Ditched (Part 1)

It’s snowing outside… again. It has snowed for several days straight now, and there is nothing I can do about it. Steam licks at my neck and chin as I lift the apple cider I was drinking to my lips. It’s so hot, I guess I’ll just have to drink it slower than usual. Would mom be able to get home through the snow? She works so late these days, there might be several feet of snow on the roads by the time she pulls out of her office building’s parking lot. Is that a good thing? Do I want her to come home so soon? She might ask me if my day went well and I can never lie to her… especially with her “Lawyer Lie Detector” training, I won’t stand a chance tonight. It’s like she has a telepathic connection to my brain, but it’s only one way. It goes from Alexandra the daughter to Theodora the mother, but sadly it doesn’t work vice versa.

I frown and consider my options, A) I could pretend to be asleep when she gets home. I glance at my watch and cross option A off my list immediately. 4:57 PM was much to early for me to go to bed, and I am a night-owl kind of girl so mom would probably think I was sick if I was asleep that early. Creating more concern and extra attention. No way, A is indefinitely off the list. B) I could drive over to Sam’s house and bunk there for a few hours until curfew, when I’d have to come back home. That’s sort-of believable. Sam and I have been pretty good friends for about a year, and mom knows Sam’s mother through PTA so she would probably be fine with me hanging out with him (and he’s a great guy, but I think he only wants us to be friends and our friendship isn’t worth the risk of curiosity). But then mom would ask why I wasn’t going over to Emma’s house instead. I’m better friends with Emma and she’s so nice… well, she used to be. At least to me she was, I know that she hasn’t always been the kindest person to everyone else, but she was like an honorary sister to me. We used to meet by… my locker. We used to meet by my locker after school to hang out. The same locker that she put all those awful notes in.

Over the past few months, she has left notes, messages, and photoshopped images in that metal cabinet of mine but none of them have been harmful… until today (and I’m still cursing myself for giving her the code to my locker at the beginning of the year).

After missing the bus, due to a 20 minute after-school discussion with my last period teacher, I decided to drop off some of my heavier textbooks at my locker so that I wouldn’t have to carry them on the walk home. I had arrived at my destination but when I reached to open the metal lock, it burned me and I recoiled, yelping in pain. It was hot, really hot, and while my brain was contemplating how it was possible, the rest of my body was acutely aware of my recently burned fingertips. The burns weren’t severe, they probably wouldn’t even blister very much, but they still hurt like heck and I clamped my mouth shut to keep from mewling. Through all of this, I knew I had to get my locker open. I had to see what was inside this time (and I wanted to stash away my books). Using my thick jacket as an improvised oven mitt, I twisted the hot lock to the proper code, and my locker swung open. Movement caught my eye and I looked upwards to see a large water balloon roll off the shelf inside and fall straight towards me. I gasped, and stood frozen as it collided with my paralyzed form. It missed my head but instead, landed on my collarbone, sending water over my whole body, textbooks, and backpack. My body would not obey my thoughts and I was stuck dumbfounded in the middle of the hallway. As tears threatened to spill over my wet lashes, I managed to sweep my eyes from the water on the tile back up to the locker, only to discover what had burned my hand. A battery powered burner lay against the hot metal interior, heating the wall and whatever was near it. Including the lock and the door when it was shut. She set up the whole thing. Emma had placed the burner in just the right position to burn my hand, she had positioned the water balloon on the top shelf (probably because it had a greater chance of wetting my whole body), and now I had to clean up the mess. Swiping my damp cheeks, I wrung out my dripping clothes to the best of my ability with a shaking hand, as my other hand rested useless and smarting against my chest. I shut off the burner, wiped up the water using my gym shirt, and placed my books on the now vacant top shelf. The only thing I had to do was to walk home in the snow… in wet clothes. Luckily it was only a fifteen minute walk, because if it was any longer I’d freeze.

I’d gotten home after a long and cold fifteen minutes to take a warm shower and bandage my fingers with burn creme. Then I had sat down to curse the snow with a warm cup of apple cider, and I still have to figure out how to avoid mom when she gets home. Back to planning, what about an option C? I take a sip of cider, but the doorbell interrupts my thoughts, forcing me to set down my mug and trudge to the front door. I sigh (preparing myself for the cold and snowy air) and pull the door open to reveal… nothing. No one was there. I have been doorbell-ditched. I groan, and tears prick my eyes. Out of everything that has happened today, this is the straw that broke this camel’s back. Turning to shut the door, a splash of black stands out against the stark white snow through the snowflakes. Is it... a person? They are in my front yard lying face down in snow, and in a rather uncomfortable looking position.

“HEY! Are you OK?” I yell, while simultaneously trying to put a name and face to the black blob. They have brown hair, and- WAIT. Is that… is that Sam? Sam doorbell-ditched me? Well, he is lying in the snow so I guess karma worked quickly in his case. Very amusing, but he’s still face down in the snow. Should I go get him? The snow is so deep outside, and I’m only wearing tennis shoes. No, he’ll get up. “SAM?”, I don’t know if he can even hear me, “SAM ARE YOU OK?”. It doesn’t look like he’s getting up… dang it. Groaning, I shut the door behind me as I step out into the cold wintery air. I jog to Sam and nudge his lifeless leg. He doesn’t look conscious, which means I have to wake him up too. I drop to my knees, my jeans are immediately soaked from the snow but I focus on Sam (who is probably more soaked then I am) and try to turn him onto his back. He’s so heavy! Shaking his shoulder, his eyes open slowly and confusion is clearly portrayed in his expression.

“Sam, get up you’ve got to help me out here. It’s freezing out here, and you’re wet. Come on.” He murmured something unintelligible in response, which I took as an okay-I-will-help-you-help-me-stand-and-not-freeze-to-death answer. I shivered, it was so cold, and pulled him into a sitting position, slinging his arm over my shoulder; I positioned my arm across his back, gripping his side with my hand. “On the count of three, you are going to stand. One… Two… Three!” I lift his shaking form from the ground and together we stumble through the thickening snow to the warmth of my home. I slam the door shut behind us and support Sam as we make our way to the kitchen. “What the heck Sam? Doorbell-ditching me? Then getting us into this freezing mess…” I shake my head, “what were you thinking?”. He mutters a shaky apology and my frustration fades. Reaching the kitchen/living area I deposit him on the couch and ask him to take off his damp coat while I grab blankets. He shrugs his jacket off and I trade him the blankets as I take it to the coat rack.

“Thanks.” He stammers gratefully, and I look over my shoulder to find him staring back at me. I quickly turn back to my task, blush, and curse my light skin tone for revealing all of my emotions. “No problem.” I stammer, feel the heat dissipate from my face, and walk back to the couch. He smiles as I sit then frowns when he notices my hand. I make a feeble attempt to hide my bandaged fingers in the blanket but he doesn’t let it pass.

“Woah, woah, woah. What happened Alex?” He lifts my wrist to uncover my hand, and with concern in his eyes he inspects my amateur wrapping job.
“It’s nothing, really. It’s just an minor burn. I didn’t know how to properly care for it so I did my best and improvised.” A smile tugged at his lips and I knew that inwardly he was laughing at me. “Don’t laugh at me! It hurts still, and I did try my best to tend to it.” I say jokingly, but the playfulness in his eyes turns to concern.
“Sorry… do you want. I mean… can I, uh, can I dress it the right way for you?” A little surprised (not by the question, but by the way he asked it), I look up to meet his gaze and nod, positive that he can see my thoughts and now knows how shocked (and honestly a little giddy) I am by his compassion. “Ok,” he grins, “where do you keep the medical stuff?”. Now it’s my turn to smile.

“Stuff? Are you sure you know you’re talking about?”

“Ha ha, you know what I mean, and I’m an Eagle-Scout. You have no idea how many times I have had to dress a burn wound for my fellow Eagles. They like to mess around with hot things, and it seems like you have the same issue. What happened anyway? While we’re on the subject.” I walk to the kitchen and grab the first aid kit out of the medicine cabinet, deciding whether or not I should tell him.

“It’s a steam burn.” Oh no, my face is getting warm. Why am I such a bad liar?

“Uh huh, I don’t think you’re telling the truth. You always have some pink on your face but when you lie you look redder. What really happened?” Did my mom give Sam her lie detector for a day?

“I don’t always look pink. It’s only when I’m around-”, I cut myself off and my face flushes, “nevermind. The burn isn’t serious, it really was just hot steam.” I open the kit and start taking out the supplies but grimace when I go to pick up something with my injured hand.

“Stop, I can do that. Come sit so I can unwrap your handy-work.” He pats the seat next to him, lays out the supplies, and holds out his hand for mine. Reluctantly I place my hand palm up in his so that he can use the kit’s scissors to cut through the medical tape and gauze. His eyes widen and quickly narrow as he inspects the blistered skin, then he is all business as his gaze boars into me; asking a question I didn’t want to answer. “Alex? The truth please?” But I turn away, how was I getting myself out of this now?

“Sam, I don’t really want to answer that question. Can we forget about it?” Why is he so concerned? It’s not a really bad burn, but then again I don’t burn myself often so I have nothing to compare it too.

“No, we can’t. I’ve seen steam burns before and that is not what this is, and it looks like it is pretty painful, which brings up the question of why you don’t want to tell me. So just be honest, what happened to your fingers Alexandra? I know that it wasn’t some stupid steam that did this, it looks like it was some sort of thermal burn.” His words were blunt and straightforward, but there was a hint of worry somewhere below it all. And I have never heard him use my full name before, it split my facade, and tears started to form in my eyes. I can’t cry right now, especially in front of him. Pull yourself together Alex! Turning back towards him, despite my teary eyes, I nod towards the burns and Sam grabs the burn creme to start dressing the wound. Taking a deep breath, and encouraged by his caring glance, I tell him what happened (including the water balloon and the previous pranks). Sam’s facial expressions bounce from angry, to sympathetic, to pained, and he pauses his job occasionally to make comments… most of which were very unexpected. Some were about how he would have helped if he had been there or if I had told him sooner he would have confronted Emma, but all the while he listened to what I was saying. He finishes wrapping my fingers as I'm telling him about walking home in the snow and wet clothes, and he snaps.

“Alex why didn’t you call me? I would have come picked you up! Or I would have at least contacted someone to come get you. You could have frozen out there! Your fingers were- are burned, you were wet, and carrying a soaking wet backpack in the snow! What were you thinking? You can’t do everything by yourself! You are so stubborn sometimes, and you...you…”, his frustration by my actions was so sudden and uncalled for, I sat frozen as he ran his hands through his hair, his angry expression turning pained. “You aren’t alone Alex, so please stop acting like it.” His gaze finally met mine but I suddenly found my newly wrapped fingers very interesting.

“I didn’t think you cared so much Sam. Why are you so upset by this?” Today has been pretty rough, but even I wasn’t as uprooted by the events as he was, and they actually happened to me.

“‘Cause I do care Alex. You’re my friend, and a fantastic person. For heaven’s sake, you pretty much carried me- a guy almost twice your size- out of the snow after he face planted in your front yard. Face planted after doorbell ditching you, no less. The least I can do is tell you when you’re incorrect.” A small smile returns to my face at his sarcasm, and my smile is mirrored in his. “See? Even after the day you’ve had, you are still smiling. That’s strength Alex… you are a very strong person, and you have to know that because you are worth so much more than your circumstances.” I wiped my eyes with my sleeve and nodded, giving him an appreciative smile.

“Thanks Sam, and I care about you too, you’d be surprised of how great of a friend you actually are. To be clear though, don’t think I’ll be forgetting your epic doorbell-ditching effort any time soon.” The last comment was added humorously, but Sam’s face still reddened and he murmurs another apology.

“I am so sorry! But on the bright side, it led us to this moment. Bonding experiences I tell you, bonding experiences. You know Alex… you truly are-”, his words were cut short by the tell-tale ringing of a smartphone. He frowned, clearly unamused by being interrupted, but answered his buzzing device. “Hello? Oh hey mom… yeah I’m fine… I’m at Alex’s house… I left it there because it was out of gas… yes, I walked here.” He looked at me, and I shook my finger at him, scolding him jokingly. He rolled his eyes and continued. “Okay I’ll be home soon, promise… yeah I’ll tell her you said hi. Love you, bye.” He ended the call and shoved the phone back into his pocket. “My mom says hello.”

“I know, I heard it.” I remind him.

“Oh, yeah, of course.” Was he blushing? “Well… I’ve got to go. My mom wants me home for dinner, and you know how she gets when people aren’t on time.” I nod knowingly, my mom is the same way.

“Thanks for listening, and for this.” I hold up my properly tended to hand and start to walk towards the coat rack to grab his jacket. Following me, he nods and thanks me for not letting him freeze out in the snow. I laugh, handing him his coat. “You’re pretty funny Sam.”

“Why thank you madam. I try my best, and you have a great laugh… I don’t have the pleasure of hearing it very often. We’ll have to fix that.” I smile and open the door for him, letting the cold air rush into the entryway.

“I guess we do. But for now, try not to freeze on your way home. I’d drive you but I don’t have a car, and I can’t drive well.” He chuckles and nods.

“Well Alex, I must bid you adieu. Maybe we can hang out again sometime if that’s okay with you.”

“That’d be great. Bye Sam.”, and with that he's gone, walking out into the falling snow. He really is an amazing friend, and maybe now I will be able to handle my mom’s questions tonight. It is still snowing pretty heavily outside, but maybe it isn’t such a bad thing after all. I might be warming up to the cold, and to the bonding experiences it creates.