I wake up on my bench the next morning with a person a my feet. It was the boy, I sigh.
"I'm no doctor, but you're ankle looks a little swollen, you should get that checked out," he says.
"Really? You're not a doctor? I never noticed," I sit up. He laughs. "Are you following me or something? I don't usually see the same person twice next to me and talking to me."
"I know you're mommy doesn't let you talk to strangers, but it kind of looks like you don't have one around. I just wanted to make sure you were okay."
"Well, I can assure you, I'm fine. And don't you need to get home to your mommy?"
"I'm eighteen, so no."
"You look like you're twelve," I laugh.
"Thanks," he laughs with me. I look around. I can't find the guitar!
"Where is my guitar?" I stand, but fall right back down on the bench with my ankle giving out on me.
"Oh, it's in my car. I figured it shouldn't be outside."
"Give it back! I need that!"
"Okay, calm down. You know, maybe I should take you somewhere. Like my house, or a doctor for your ankle," he stands up.
"I don't have enough money for a doctor and I certainly don't want to go to a stranger's house."
"Oh, well, I'll just get you your guitar," he walks back to his jet black car. Funny, he thinks my guitar should be in a safe place, but I shouldn't. He comes back with the guitar in his hand.
"I never got your name," he says, handing the guitar to me.
"Jessica. And yours?"
"Kaleb."
"Well, it's nice to meet you, Kaleb."
"And you as well, Jessica," he bows and laughs. I laugh with him. A flash of pain came in my ankle as I tried to turn it. I winced.
"I can take you to the doctor," he said, sitting down next to me.
"I told you, I can't afford it," I clench my fist, digging my nails into my palm to distract my self from the pain coming from my ankle.
"I'll pay for it. C'mon, let's get to my car," he starts to help me up.
"No! I barely know you and now you want me to get into you car?" I flinch away.
"Here," he hands me his phone. "If I take you anywhere other than the doctor's office, you can call the police with my phone."
I look at his phone, then at him. "Fine. But to the doctor's office and then back. No where else."
"I promise," he smiles.
He helps me up and I lean on him as I limp to the car. He puts his hand on my back and grabs my arm as he helps me into the front seat. He has a strong grip, but I flinch, remembering the last time my step-dad grabbing me like that. I sit down and he closes the door and walks around the car then gets into the driver seat. He puts the keys in the ignition. The engine starts, then stops. Starts, then stops.
