Walking With The Outcast

Chapter 17 - Lucilia

Ace is nervous. That much is clear as he avoids looking at me and skids his feet across the sidewalk.

It's almost adorable.

I am so accustomed to his never-ceasing confidence that the fidgety, avoiding-eye-contact Ace is throwing me for a loop. It's sweet, and I'd tell him that if I knew his manly ego wouldn't take a blow. Instead, I silently appreciate this new awkward side of him, wondering if I'll get to see more of it in the future.

However, curiosity eats away at me, too. Ace has never introduced me to anyone before, and I have never seen him with anyone but me. What if he has a girlfriend, though? Could that be who he wants me to meet?

Anguish ties my into a knot then. I never seriously considered the possibility that Ace is in a relationship. He could be, though. It's not like he gives a detailed account of his personal life to me.

Let's face it.

I may have known Ace for a year, but he is still just as much a mystery to me now as he was then.

Of course, I'm not much better. He only recently learned that my parents are out of the country and have no contact with me.

Wow.

Thinking about all we don't know about each other gives me an epiphany: Ace and I are practically strangers. I don't even know his favorite color.

How can I trust him so much then? How can I put all of my trust in someone when I do not have the faintest idea what his middle name is?

We are the most pathetic friends I have ever seen. I know my reasons for not telling Ace my personal secrets; They're too painful and too shameful, and I can't bring myself to tell him and have him stare at me with harsh, judging eyes. He is the only one I have left.

Why doesn't he tell me his secrets then? What caused him to build a barrier and lock away any trust he has?

Part of me wants to know. The other part, however, understands the power of a secret. When you give away a secret, you give away not only that power, but also your trust. When you give away your trust, you put all of you in the palm of someone's hand. And they can either cherish it.

Or they can crush it, and in turn, crush you.

So, I'll keep my trust, my secrets, safely tucked away in my pocket along with the appointment reminder from Mr. Riddenton. And Ace can keep his secrets buried deep inside whatever vault he locks away his pains and past in. Then we will continue to be what we normally are: friends with a wall of secrets.

As I think about these things, red, yellow, and dappled leaves flutter past us in a scurry to go somewhere and nowhere. They move in a chaotic manner, hitting our ankles in their bid to fly away.

I wish I was like them.

I wish that I could leave the chaos of my life behind and go somewhere, anywhere. I wish that I could go, just so I can see more than this painful, empty town.

I glance at Ace.

I wish that he shared the same dreams as me. I wish that he wanted to go with me.

How pointless it is to hope for that. Ace and I will never be anything more than friends. We will never tell each other what malicious events tortured us. We will never give away that vulnerability and let the other in.

Troubled by my thoughts and the feeling of bitterness thrumming through my blood, I close my eyes and sigh, not noticing that Ace had stopped until his hand gripped mine. Then a crisp, smooth piece of paper slips into my palm. Ace, with his frosty green eyes, watches me intently as I open it, his face as emotionless as I have ever seen it.