“So, what is your name?” I knew as soon as I asked my shaky, silent lab partner this question, I couldn’t go back. His mysterious, bad-boy image somehow attracted me to him. Glancing at his features was like staring at stars on a dark night; you know that they’re there, but you don’t know what story lies behind each star.
He finally answers. “James, you?” His child-like voice made me even more interested in him.
“Cary,” I mentioned as I extended my hand to meet his.
His gentle, strong hands meet mine and that’s when it hit me: my palms felt as if I had a firm grip on an electric fence. From then, our conversations eventually became longer and our distance from each other became shorter.
I noticed his struggling grade in science, so I followed my instincts, “James, do you need help studying for our unit test on Tuesday?”
“M’fine,” that’s all he ever said when I tried to take our friendship a step forward.
“I can tell from that D,” I proved to him.
“So I’m below you, is that what you’re saying?” he asked, as his childish voice escalated to an adult-like scold. Before I had a chance to defend myself, he continued his rant, “Jus’ cause I get one bad grade, means I won’t be successful? Are you trying to make me feel bad, ‘cause it worked.”
Those were the last words James ever said. Why he did it, no one will ever know.
