I finished up the last class, with Mr. Nash. He reminded me when I was walking out of his class that I had tutoring.
Yes, I had totally forgotten.
Not.
I started to walk out the door, when I realized that I had enough money for a cab.
Actually, I should probably save my money. I would probably need it sooner or later.
I continued to walk, twisting and turning, and before I knew it, I was on the other side of New York. My legs ached, but my head was in different places.
Sam died.
Sam died.
Sam died.
Sam's dead.
Finally, I made it to a pretty apartment. I walked up the metal stairs and knocked on the door.
Peter was holding a book when he opened the door.
"Hi," he said, when he spotted me.
"Hey," I replied, grumpily.
His home was accented in red and it looked like he lived with his family, according to the family pictures on the wall.
"So let's get right to work. You're 30 minutes late." Peter started.
Peter gave me a test.
"I know it's Spanish that I'm tutoring you in, but he also did say anything else you need help with."
I found it odd, a guy my age giving me a test.
There were all sorts of questions in all different subjects. I knew I did horrible.
He graded my test, while I sat slumped in a chair.
"I've concluded that your schooling is in the seventh or eighth grade. So basically you don't know anything." Peter said, looking down at his notes, raising an eyebrow.
"What?" I said outraged. "I do-"
I felt my cheeks flush. I was stupid.
"Don't bother," Peter said calmly. "Let's start on math."
It was an exhausting 2 hours. We had spent all of our time on learning how to find the area of a triangle and rectangle.
I felt like a kindergartener. Heck, I needed to review how to multiply and divide.
Peter didn't seem to care though. He just taught me how to do it and that was it.
I don't want to admit it, but I enjoyed learning.
I felt smart. It felt refreshing.
I felt so normal?
I felt like a regular teen, learning new things.
He checked his watch, ending our session. "Ok, I'll see you tomorrow."
I stood up, grabbing my backpack. I had forgotten to bring any books, but luckily, Peter had some on hand.
He showed me to the door. "Where's your car?" he inquired, looking intently at the dark horizon.
"Um, I walk." I suggested.
"I'll drive you." Peter insisted.
"No thanks," I said, heading down the steps.
Before he could object, I was out the door.
It would have been nice to catch a ride from Peter. But where would he drive to?
Probably he would get freaked out by me.
Or worse, report me to Child Services or something.
Surprisingly, he wasn't as rude as I expected. He wasn't stuck up or anything. He was quite polite actually... for a popular kid.
It took me a long time to get back home. Many times, I felt sleazy gazes upon me, so constantly, I was waiting out under alleyways. I felt stares coming at me, footsteps coming at me, but when I looked back, it was all my imagination.
I had gone through the drill before. Plenty of times, I had been walking at night and was frightened. It's one thing I'm so, so, afraid of.
I'm supposed to be strong, but it's not always easy.
When is it ever easy?
I lay down on my backpack as a pillow. This time, I decided to sleep at a local park. I'd had it with the alleyway, even if it was a safer area for me. The park was much more open, plus, I'd get to see sunlight faster. I'd wake up earlier too. Plus, the park had a softer ground. The dewy grass comforted me.
I looked up at the sky.
The stars and moon were invisible, blinded by all the city lights and clouds.
The stars reminded me of Sam.
It wasn't Sam's fault my parent's died.
His motives were blinded by my anger.
Now that I had thought about it, any 13 year old would have ignored an orphaned kid like me. Even I would have.
He had saved up for me. He had given back to me.
I don't think what I did was wrong. I don't regret the way I acted towards Sam the last few days.
It took Sam to die for me to realize that Sam wasn't who I thought he was.
I never really knew him.
He had secrets. He wasn't kind, nor angry, nor mean.
But that night, I forgave Sam.