I can still see those nine numbers in my head. I should be able to; lord knows that I stared at them enough. It had been three days since his trip to the hospital and there I was staring at his arm thanking a god that I don’t believe in that he was ok. While our government teacher started a lecture about bureaucracy, I watched as he moved his arm to start taking notes on his MacBook. The bracelet slid down his tan forearm, and onto his wrist. The first number was a nine, which is a coincidence; because it was at nine three nights ago that I had found out about his trip.

I was just finishing my math homework at the boarding school that we attend. It had been a long evening because I had two papers do the next day. I was dreary and thinking that I wanted to head to sleep, so I got up off the grey couch I was sitting on and starting walking through the main building of the school’s campus. I was planning on heading back to the boy’s dormitory, but before I did so, I thought I would see where other people were in case I wanted to participate.

I walked over to our checkout counter where students sign out if they are going off campus.  The three ringed binder that kept the checkout pages had become worn over the three years that I had been at the school. One of the corners was ripping at the seams and the cover that said “Student Sign Out Book” had many ink stains on its milky white surface. I opened the  book to the last dog eared page and scanned the lines for people I actually liked, and that is when I saw it.

His name was written in a messy sprawl under the section that said “student’s name.” The location was marked hospital. The checkout time said “7:35 to ?.” I checked the clock and it was nine on the dot. My mind automatically assumed the worst. “Was he hurt badly?” “Should I get a ride to the hospital?” “Will I see him again?”

I decided the best course of action was to go to the dorm and await his return. I walked back across the grassy path leading to the dorm, the dewy grass leaving my feet damp. There were so many scenarios running in my head. “Did he break a leg during basketball?” “Did he fall down some stairs?” These were still just speculations, but the idea of him in pain was killing me. It didn’t matter to me that he didn’t care about me. I cared about him, I loved him, and even if he didn’t like it, I was going to be there for him when he got back.

I sat down on the bottom stair of the red cinderblock staircase that leads to the upper floor of the dorm. The paint was chipping, and I started to peel it off in an attempt to feel like I was doing something. I felt so helpless, not being able to do anything, not even knowing what was wrong. I kept chipping away at the stair and as I did so I remembered the day that I had first met him.

It was a hot and humid day and our freshmen orientation group of nine was supposed to go and explore the nearby area. We had been pre-grouped by the staff members and were supposed to stay with our group in case we got lost in the big college town. I was placed in a group with a small Asian boy named Jim, who seemed to know very little English, and an older looking African American boy named Andrew. We were an interesting group to say the least.

The three of us walked along in silence for a couple blocks before Andrew suggested we go into a coffee shop. We ducked into a dimly lit Java House and I was so happy to feel the air-conditioning on my sweaty face. We stood in line for a few minutes before we individually ordered. I sipped on my peanut butter mocha and joined Jim and Andrew in the booth.

“Where do you guys want to go next?” I asked them.

“Asian Market,” Jim said.

“I would be up for going to the Asian Market,” Andrew said as he sipped on a hot chocolate.

“You guys know that is like a 20 minute walk from here?” I said knowing we only had 45 minutes left in the town.

“Yeah, we can make it,” Andrew said.

Jim nodded his head in agreement.

“I don’t really want to do that,” I said, realizing that I didn’t really have a choice as we had to stay together.

“You don’t have to go,” Andrew said, as if this were the obvious solution.

“But we have to stay together,” I said

“No, as long as we are all together when we see the staff then we will be fine,”
 Andrew said, giving me the crooked smile of a troublemaker.

Jim nodded again.

“Ok, then I guess I will see you guys back at the park in 45 minutes,” I said, getting up to go.

I entered the blazing heat again and started walking up the street. It was lined on both sides with colorful stores advertizing things such as 40% off shoes and buy one get one free bras. There were also two different bars on the small street, which for a college town, did not surprise me. I was too busy checking to see if any of the signs mentioned selling men’s clothing to watch where I was walking and I walked straight into someone with a small figure.

“I’m so sorry!” I said as I recovered from my blow.

I looked up to see another one of the students from the school.

“That’s fine,” He said, smiling shyly at me.

I looked around for a second before asking him, “where’s your group?”

“Oh, it’s just me. They wanted to go shopping, but they were both girls and so they only wanted to go in women’s shops,” He said.

“Oh, my group wanted to the Asian market which was farther then I wanted to walk,” I said, explaining my lack of group.

We both stood there awkwardly in silence. I took in his image for the first time. He was so small, well the same size as me, which was tiny. I think we were both fourteen at the time. He had shoulder length brown hair that partially covered his blue eyes. He was wearing an obviously self made tie dye tee shirt and some beige cargo shorts. He looked pretty nerdy and timid to be perfectly honest, but kind of in an adorable way.

After about thirty second of silence, I looked up the street a little ways to see a Coldstone and decided I would go out on a limb.

“Want to go get some ice cream?” I asked, pointing up the street to the store.

“Sure,” He said immediately. I could tell he was just excited that he didn’t have to ask.

We walked up the street and entered the ice cream shop. As we got in line I asked him what he was going to order.

“I really like their mango ice cream,” He said.

“Really, I didn’t know they offered that,” I responded trying to be as open and friendly as possible.

“It’s organic and they keep it in the back. You have to ask for it special,” He said, a flicker of a real smile coming across his face.

“How do you know that?” I asked him, impressed.

“My oldest brother works at a Coldstone back home,” He replied.

“Well then it looks like I picked the right person to come here with.” I said smiling at him.

We ordered to mango ice cream cones, and I started to sit down at one of the provided booths.

“Want to eat outside? It’s such a nice day,” He said.

“Sure.” I said.

I was not under the impression that it was a nice day and was wondering how he could, but I decided I would go along with him on that one. We made our way out of the store and started walking up the next street. We finally found an open bench and took a seat on it. As we talked, we ate our mango ice cream, which tasted so exotic. The more he spoke the more exotic he seemed, and the more I wanted a taste. I could tell he was nervous because he kept tripping over his words. I masked my nervousness by chipping away at the benches already peeling red paint.  We laughed on that bench until we finished our ice-cream, and then returned to the park to meet up with the other groups.

I exited my flashback rather abruptly when the door to the dorm opened.  It was the boy’s dorm sponsor coming in to tell me that I had to be in bed in ten minutes. I didn’t try and argue with him as that would have gotten me nowhere, but instead went back to my room. When he came in to turn off the lights I was in bed, just as I should have been. When he left, I waited exactly thirty seconds before throwing off my covers, and sneaking out of my room, pillow in hand.

I made it back to the staircase and returned to my seat and my nervous scratching. My nails were growing ragged and there was a coat of red underneath each one. The metallic undercoat of the stairs was starting to show through, but that did not stop me from continuing my activity. Since that day I first ran into him, I had been doing everything I could to make him fall in love with me. Nothing had worked, and he had abandoned our friendship entirely, but when it comes to medical stuff, I assumed all of that was behind us.

I was starting to nod off when I heard the metal door creep open. I felt a rush of cold night air surge into the room followed by his ghostly figure.

“Hey.” I said, trying not to scare him.

“Jesus.” He said, jumping back and banging his shoulder on the door frame.

He reached up to hold his now throbbing shoulder and the hospital bracelet fell down his wrist and onto his forearm. I caught a glimpse of the last three numbers. 713.

“What are you doing up?” He asked me, in a grouchy tone.

“Well, I knew you weren’t back yet, and when I saw you were at the hospital I got worried,” I said waiting nervously to see his response.

“It’s one in the morning,” He said

“I know, your point being?” I replied.

“You’ve been waiting for me since lights out?” He asked, seeming slightly chagrinned.

“Actually, since nine, but I was really worried. I don’t want to talk about that though. What happened, are you ok?” I asked, getting up and trying to hug him.

He stood there like a board hands at his waist. It was the coldest hug I’ve ever received.

“I’m fine. I have a small concussion from basketball.” He said bluntly.

“Well that could be serious. What did the doctor say to do?” He said I couldn’t go to bed for eight hours.” He replied.

“Well then what are you going to do now if you can’t sleep?” I asked.

“Probably listen to music in the lounge,” He said, trying to scoot past me.

“Well, I’ll stay up with you,” I said, moving in front of him.

“No, I’ll be fine,” He said trying to move past me again.

“Yeah, but whose going to make sure you don’t fall asleep?” I asked, continuing the dance we were doing up the stairs.

“I’ll make sure of it,” He said, trying to push by me.

I grabbed his arm. “You can try to fight me on this, but I bet you have a b**** of a headache, and you know I can be pretty consistent,” I said.

“Fine, if you want,” He said, shaking off my hand.

I followed him up the stairs and left him in the common area to listen to music. I then went to fill up a cup of water and grab a couple aspirin from my room. I came back to him and he took the pills. We sat down on a couch while he played mellow independent music off his iPod.

“When did you first get the concussion?” I asked him.

“About five,” He replied, stretching out his black jean clothed legs.

“So you can go to bed around three,” I stated.

“I guess so,” He said. The last word was almost incoherent as he yawned during it.

We sat there as the music played. I talked to him about his hospital visit and the incident in basketball to try and keep him awake. I had to nudge him several times after he nodded off. Each of these was returned with a one blue eyed glare before he would sit back up again.

The clock finally ran down and I said “I think you should sleep here tonight.”

Being too drowsy to argue, he just nodded his head. I went to my room to get a blanket and when I returned, he was already out like a light. I turned off the music and sat down on my seat on the couch, his head nestled against my shoulder. I placed the blanket over us and the way it fell, all you could see were our faces, and his arm, the blue hospital bracelet lying, in contrast, to the brown stitched cloth.    

It had been three days, and he still hadn’t taken the bracelet off. It was probably just due to laziness, but I would like to think it was because he thought of it as a reminder that someone cared about him, weather he felt the same or not.