Eb's First Writing Challenge

“You’re not fooling anyone, you know?” The voice, higher-pitched and almost nonchalant in tone, had drifted over from the bed that was situated against the wall in the middle of a white room, almost sterile in how bleached it looked. Lying under the covers was a girl no older than twelve, her skin nearly as pale as the walls, though her emerald green eyes still shone with livelihood. Those eyes were fixated on a boy of sixteen sitting down in a chair astride of the bed, though he wasn’t looking back, instead choosing to examine his hands. “Jacob, I’m talking to you.”

The boy finally looked up to meet her gaze, though it was one of great reluctance. “I wasn’t trying to fool anyone,” he replied lamely to her, though he didn’t expect her to believe that. Looking just as quickly away, towards the window, he let out a deep breath and ran a hand absently through his hair. There was no point in looking this way: the blinds were drawn, just as white and empty as the rest of the room, but it felt better than seeing the look of disapproval she surely was giving him. Silence permeated the area for a few moments more, than he said, almost more to himself than to her, “I’m fine, you know.” When he finally did look back towards her, the disapproving gaze he had predicated was predictably etched upon her face. She actually looked pretty cute when she thought he was hiding something from her.

“I thought I told you not to worry that much, and then you go off and do something without thinking through it. What about all your friends? Won’t you miss them?” He couldn’t exactly pretend he didn’t know what she was talking about. His friends had been rather shocked when he told them he was leaving the school – and the state – to enroll in some unknown educational establishment all the way in North Dakota. When they tried to pry out some information on just why he was doing this, he remained vague towards his reasoning, reasoning that didn’t really satiate anyone’s curiosity, though most at least didn’t seem too angry with him over it. Still, she knew why, and she was not amused that he was still going despite her attempts to dissuade him from doing so. In all honesty, he was going to miss them, and he would miss the knowledge and routine of where he was, where he had been for his whole life. Most of all he would miss his family, who were the only others who knew why he was doing this, though they were supportive of his reasoning. Without their support, of course, there was no way he could have gone regardless, so maybe that was most important.

“Of course, but I’ve thought about this for quite awhile. I know this is the right thing to do.” Man, it felt warm in here. He considered removing his jacket, but the muse to do such wasn’t there, so on it stayed, encasing him in its too-warm grasp. Sometimes he wondered why she was so stubborn about this: he was doing all of this for her, after all, but it was like she didn’t want his help or something. There was that look of defiance in her eyes he had grown to know well ever since she found out that he was leaving the state. She sat up and leaned her back against the headboard, the covers falling quietly to her waist, fixing him with a calculating gaze.

“You’re just as stubborn as Uncle Trent,” she muttered, crossing her arms for a moment before abandoning the task and instead running a hand through her rather short hair in a similar motion to Jacob. They had a similar color of hair as well, though hers was a lighter shade.  “I’m growing this out when I leave, you know?” He knew: she had mentioned it last time too. They fell into silence again, wherein he tried to busy himself by zipping and unzipping his jacket, which only served to highlight just how uncomfortable he felt here. It wasn’t right: they should be somewhere else, anywhere but here, yet here they were, same place they had been last time. Would she ever grow her hair out?

Despite the fact that he felt uncomfortable, despite the time that was passing, he didn’t make any motion to get up and leave. Eventually he would have to, of course, but when he was here he liked to spend as much time as allowed near her. Looking at the clock, he figured that the sun would be setting sometime soon. When had his hands begun to shake? Suddenly, the sound of the door opening broke him from his thoughts and made him turn towards the noise, where the head of a kindly blonde woman looked over the two of them and said simply, “Five more minutes, sir,” before leaving as quickly as she had arrived, shutting the door behind her. They were back in the silence, back in the loneliness. Only five more minutes. His throat felt dry, as if anything he wanted to say wouldn’t be allowed to be spoken anyway, but he felt himself getting to his feet and making his way to her bedside. She gave him a reassuring smile. “I’m fine, you know.” She gave a good impersonation of him from earlier, which did succeed in bringing a smile to his own face, though it was a small and wan one. This wasn’t right; this wasn’t right at all. She shouldn’t be in this white bed, in that white gown, with these white walls and this white door and these white blinds keeping her from seeing the sunshine. A fleeting thought came to his mind of just running and ripping the blinds open, but he hadn’t even asked her if she did want to see the dying rays of the sun. Reaching down, he grasped her hand in his own and gave it a gentle squeeze, desperate now not to let her go.

“I’m going there because I can learn more than I could ever learn here. I’m going there to make me better. Then I can make you better.” He squeezed her hand tighter, as if willing wellness to flow through him and into her, but nothing happened. Nothing was going to happen. “I’m going to save you.”

The nurse’s voice drifted into the room. “It’s time to leave, sir. She needs her rest.” Her voice was breaking his concentration, though the stony resolve in the girl lying upon the bed was already making it difficult to begin with. She just looked up at him and gave him another smile, a gentle one, one with, he tried hard to believe wasn’t true, a touch of finality.

“Not everyone can be saved.”