Guardian: Chapter 2

Going over his house was virtually painless. I spent almost all my time with Mrs. Roberts, talking about school and miscellaneous things. When I insisted that I needed to get going, she thought it would be nice of Shawn to walk me home. It was all I do to refrain from throwing myself at her feet and begging for her to take her suggestion back. Shawn didn’t look so pleased either, and had rolled his eyes before walking outside without a word of goodbye.
         
         We walked the entire way in silence, only to find out that my parents weren't home yet from work. I hadn’t been smart enough to remember my key, so I was left standing awkwardly on the porch, an inquisitive boy behind me.

"Is it locked?"

         I had stayed over his house for about an hour before I insisted that I had to leave. Even though I'd talked to his mother most of the time, we did include Shawn in our conversations. He talked in what seemed like riddles, and his voice was always hard. This was the first time that I had heard such an innocent statement fill up the immeasurable smoothness of his voice. I turned around, debating whether I should lie to him or not.
         Two pools of brown shot right through me, and I caved.

"Yeah, my parents aren’t home yet."

         He stared at me for a moment or two before gesturing to the swing that was still and barren at the edge of my porch. When I was little I thought I could touch the sun if I jumped off it high enough. I learned quickly that the sun wasn’t exactly close enough, and that the stone walkway didn’t feel good when landed upon. I grimaced at the memory and then looked up, surprised to see Shawn gone.
         I whirled in confusion and found him stretched easily back on the ratty cushions, his eyes curious.

"You sit here often?"

         He had voiced it as a question, but for some reason it seemed like he already knew what my answer would be. I wondered vaguely if he thought it was childish to sit out on the porch swing, the kind of thing you did with your parents back in those younger years; counting stars and what not. Reluctantly I made my way over to sit next to him, trying to stretch the time it took me to get there as long as it could go. Sitting next to the freak would just be a mortally embarrassing way to end the day.

"I sleep out here sometimes," I admitted with a casual shrug, although I was immediately uncomfortable.

         He didn’t seem bothered or even concerned with me. He had turned his head towards the side, the drowning sun straining his flaxen hair a bold tawny color. He was so small, I realized, he certainly didn’t look healthy. I could see his ribs through his loose shirt when he scooted backwards a bit, giving me more room to sit down. I felt like a giant next to him, our thighs together looked as if a middle aged woman and a seven-year-old had just sat down next to each other.
         I made a face at my own analogy, before his voice distracted me.

"What’s that?"

         Yet another naïve question, it caught me off guard. I looked over at him to see that he was leaned forward, peering at my lawn. I followed his gaze curiously and found the culprit of his inquiry, a small smile finding its way onto my mouth. Shrill barking caught the air immediately and a small brown and black form came bounding towards the porch.

"Oh, that's just Button," I said breezily, watching Shawn out of the corner of my eye to see him looking slightly amused.

         Yipping, the small dog made its way quickly up the steps and across the deck to where we sat before sitting down swiftly on her haunches. A minute pink tongue lagged out the side of a caramel colored maw, round eyes glittering. I looked over again at the boy next to me, his expression for once genuinely pleased.

"Can I pet her?" he asked politely, and when he received a nod from me he reached down with his fragile fingers and gingerly placed them across the top of her head.

"Here, wait," I instructed and he obediently took his hand away.

"C'mere Button, up."

         Willingly, the young terrier jumped up onto my lap. I handed her over to Shawn who took her in careful arms, cradling the small body close to his stomach. His eyes were full of something that could only be described as pure compassion, the warmth in the dark color stupefying me. Shawn's boney fingers were moving languidly across the top of the dog's head, and she looked quite content in his grip.
         That was the moment that I saw Shawn differently, I saw him as a normal person rather than a creepy anorexic kid who needed to go see a shrink. The dog was not stiff and uncomfortable in Shawn's lap, and I'd read countless times that dogs were good at sensing personalities. Button was limp and had her eyes sleepily closed as the long fingers stroked across her head. I managed a smile at him, trying to figure out how he had gone from cocky to sweet just from my dog.

         The silence wasn’t awkward for once, and we sat in comfortable ease until my Mother's car slowly crawled up the driveway. Button, being the excitable thing she was, jumped punctually from Shawn's lap and started barking her head off again. I surprised myself by not feeling the urge to jump up and rush Shawn off back home, and still had my shoulder blades pressed up against the swing as the professional figure of my Mom made her way up the stairs.

"Hey, Mom," I said casually.

         Dark green eyes, one attribute I'd been handed down from the family, looked over Shawn for a moment before my Mother looked towards me. She raised her eyebrow, but I couldn’t tell if the look was disapproving, or just confused.

"Who's you're friend?" she asked warmly, her smile signaling that I was not in trouble for being alone with a boy.

         Looking so weak and sickly, I was surprised at the speed in which Shawn got to his feet. I think he even surprised my Mother a bit, who stared at his outstretched hand slight bewilderment before placing her palm against his.

"I'm Shawn, nice to meet you, Mrs. Carver," he said, the cordiality still present in his usually icy tone.

         They dropped hands and my Mom gave a small smile before shifting her briefcase along her shoulder. She was clearly worn out, that much was apparent. Even with the strikingly beautiful makeup, the alive and olive skin that came with our families heritage, there was a sign of age and weariness. Her professional stance included long pin-stripe pants and a matching blazer, high heels clicking as she stepped forward.

"Nice to meet you as well, Shawn," she chirped, the energy in her voice faux, "I think I'm going to go inside and change into something more comfortable, then I'll see what's for dinner, alright Lauren?"

         I only then realized that she was addressing me, and snapped my head up with a bright smile. I nodded and rose to my feet as my Mom gave a nod to Shawn and then bustled inside the house. She closed the door behind her, and I managed to suppress a smirk. My Mom knew the perfect thing to do in all scenarios.

"Guess I'll be going then."
         
         I looked over at him, the emotion gone from his face again. I was disappointed that the time that he had seemed almost human was cut off so short and nodded half heartedly with a small wave. He stepped closer to me, and for some reason my heart didn’t kick up.

"Tomorrow's Saturday," he stated calmly.

         I nodded, waiting for him to continue. He didn’t for a while, staring out over my shoulder with a hard expression etched into his eyes. Finally, his white lips opened and a breath filled his lungs.

"Would you wanna come over again? My Mom is pretty much in love with you."

         He cracked a lopsided grin at me and the sliver of normality struck back at my happiness, I was so lost in the moment that my 'yes' came out too quickly than I had planned. He took a few more steps forward, his limp less pronounced, and leaned forward.

"One more thing," he murmured.

         His fist yet again placed itself delicately over my heart, and I didn’t pull away. I was more curious to what he was doing than scared, and raised an eyebrow at him when he leaned away. His face was satisfied, but the curve of his lips was slightly sadistic.

"Much better."

         And with that, he was leaving. I called a feeble 'good-bye' out towards him but he didn’t answer it and was hobbling half way out of my view before I retreated back inside my house. My head was throbbing with questions, the most prominent concerning his last comment. What did he mean by 'much better'? Had I done something right, or had he?

         The smell of the pre-heating oven gave me a headache immediately, and I peered into the kitchen to find my Mom in a T-shirt and sweatpants reading the instructions on a box of pizza. I knew I would be hounded with questions if I dared make an entrance, so I soundlessly backed away from the threshold of the room and made my way into the hallway.
         Our house wasn't much of anything, the wall paper was clearly from the sixties when it had been built, and everything seemed to be falling apart. It was satisfactory enough, although I was always bugging my parents to get some renovations done. We really didn’t have enough money to do everything that I thought should be done, but my Dad had agreed to fix the screeching window in my room the summer before.
         My room was my only pride of the house, it was perfectly in order and organized, and color coordinated to perfection. I swung open the door and the dark painted walls greeted me. Smiling, I realized the burnt brown hue reminded me of Shawn's eyes.