I'm Jules, I'm nearly twelve and I'm in the seventh grade. Most of the other boys are twelve because their birthdays are earlier in the year. You had to be five in the first month of school in order to start kindergarten and my birthday is in November. This put me a year back of where I should have been. There's nothing I can do about it.
I was having trouble with another boy. He wasn't being mean or anything, but he thought I was. He's a nice guy and he's very good looking. He has very pretty blue eyes. Many boys have blue eyes but his are dark crystal blue and they go right through me. I don't want to be mean to him but it upsets me to talk to him. He tried again to be friendly and I told him I had to go do something in the classroom. He looked like he was going to cry and I felt bad. I don't like to hurt people but he reminds me of something I want to forget. His name is Peter and I'm going to tell him after school why we can't be friends.
*******
"Hi Peter, I'm sorry if it seems I don't like you but it's not that. Do you have to go home right away or can we go through the park and talk?"
"Sure I guess, my mom doesn't get home for a couple hours and today's Friday so she'll be later than usual." His reluctance to be hurt again was obvious and even palpable.
We walked through the arbor at the gate of Woodcrest Park. It's a nice place to walk, but there are no game fields or basketball courts, so kids usually go to Durant Park, a couple blocks east.
Woodcrest is mostly for people who like to walk and sit on the benches. Peter and I sat under a large oak on an old iron bench nearly hidden by shade.
"So what's this about Jules, I'm only trying to be friendly and you act like you're scared to talk to me?" Peter was practically antagonistic; I suppose I had it coming.
"If you'll let me tell you a story about something that happened when I was little, you'll understand."
"Um... okay, I'm not going anywhere."
"This happened when I was five just after my birthday. I was walking to the market with my mom and we crossed Fifth Street and there was another boy and his mom coming the other way. I didn't know him, but he looked nice and we waved at each other. You know the little kid-wave where you hold your hand up and close and open your fingers?"
Peter nodded and almost smiled at the recollection.
"As he walked past I noticed his eyes, they were dark sparkling blue just like yours and he was nice looking like you and he had blonde hair just like you."
"So what's the problem, you don't like me because I'm too good looking?"
"No, it's not about not liking you, I can't like you because it hurts too much; look, let me finish and maybe you'll understand." I was becoming a little upset by then and wanted to get through it without melting down.
"Well okay I guess."
"Okay, so we passed each other and I sort of turned around to see him and he turned, too. A big white car suddenly appeared out of nowhere. It was going really fast. It hit the boy and I was covered with his blood, it was all over me because he practically exploded. The car kept going and hit the mother and then carried them both into the florist shop and hurt a bunch of people inside. I stood there screaming as loud as I could until my mom grabbed me and carried me to the curb. By then the blood was all over her and I had passed out. It took a month before I could speak again and I was terrified of walking anywhere. I never left our yard to play with other kids and I had horrible nightmares. It would replay in my head over and over and I would wake up screaming."
Both of us were crying and we didn't try to hide it. Peter put his arm around me and asked how long it took to get over it.
"I haven't really, I go to a doctor to talk but it doesn't really help. I tell him how I feel and he acts like I didn't say anything interesting, and then he says some crap that doesn't make sense. But the problem is, every time I meet someone with those blue eyes, the kind you have, the nightmares start up again. I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings, you seem nice and stuff, but I hate the nightmares, they're so horrible I can't even talk when I wake up."
"I'm sorry that happened to you, but you'll never get over it like this. Are you going to avoid people with blue eyes all your life? I mean, that's complete crap."
"My doctor says I'll grow out of it eventually."
"That's bullshit Jules; look, I wanted to be friends with you because you're smart and funny and nice to people, just not to me, but I understand that now. But maybe I can help. When my Grampa Ed died, I was really torn up, so Mom and Dad took me to see Uncle Ray, but let me ask you, does your doctor just see kids or does he treat adults too?"
"Both, the adults stare at me when I'm in the waiting room with Mom, it's creepy."
"I'll bet, well my uncle only works with kids up to like sixteen. He really helped me with a couple of things and maybe he can help you. If you give me your number, I'll call you with his number."
I gave him my number and he gave me his, but we both had the same problem: our parents had our phones set up so we could only talk to certain people that they approved of. We weren't allowed to send text messages either, and I had to look at Facebook on the computer in the family room. Dad had said they would ease up a bit when I entered junior high school.
"I'll get Dad to let me put your number in my phone but it will be after six, so please call before seven or after seven-thirty. And thanks, I hope they'll let me see your uncle and that he can help me."
Peter hugged me really tight.
"I hope he can too, I'd really like to hang out with you. I think we might be into the same stuff but we can talk about that later."
I hugged him back and it was really satisfying which I thought was strange. We left the park and walked together until he had to turn off for his street. We said goodbye again and went our separate ways.