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at the sound of his voice. What the hell?!

"Um. Um," I stutter again. I can't stop blinking. I see a small smile tugging at his pierced lips. Oh, God, does he think I'm batting my eyes at him?!

Then he can't help himself. He smiles. It's a beautiful smile, even though it's crooked. "The name's Shiloah."

"Really?" I asked. I remembered the movie about the dog.

"No. It's actually Darth as in Darth Vader from Star Wars for some reason. Shiloah is my middle name. Shiloah is better than Darth, so that's what I go by," he laughed. Shiloah. It fit him.

"I like it," I said. My knees had stopped shaking and I stopped sweating. For some reason, talking to him is making me feel better. "My name's Athanasios."

"Latin?" he asked, cocking his head to the left. "No, no, don't tell me," he said. "No, it's Greek, and it means...uh, everlasting? No, immortal, right?"

I stared at him.

"Am I wrong?" he asked. "I'm wong, aren't I?" He punched himself in the head. "Get it right, stupid brain."

"N--No, you're right, actually," I said.

"Oh," he said. He looked up. "Sorry, brain."

I gripped the side of sink as I felt dizzy for a moment; my stitches throbbed painfully. I heard him ask me something distantly, but I didn't feel well enough to reply. I needed to sit, my face hurt too much.

I blacked out for a moment. Or two. Or five. When I came to again, I found that Shiloah's arms were looped underneath mine, lifting me up. Then he wrapped one arm around my stomach and half dragged, half carried me out of the bathroom.

The halls were empty. I guess the bell rang. Then it hit me what was going on.

I pulled myself away from him and stumbled to the wall on my own feet. "I'm sorry," I gasped.

His arm was still outstretched towards me, thinking I would fall over. "You okay, man?" he frowned. "Why are you sorry?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine," I panted. I slid down the wall and sat down. "Just a little dizzy right now...I just got out of the hospital."

"Why didn't you stay home for a couple of more days?" Shiloah asked.

I shrugged.

"Do you need to go home?"

I shrugged. I was sweating again. I closed my eyes.

I felt a cool hand brush aside my bangs and feel my forehead. I opened my eyes. It was Shiloah. His hands were soft.

"You have a fever," he commented. "Like, really bad. I think you should go home."

He smelled good.

"Athan? You hear me?" he asked. He used my nickname. I nodded. "Do you have a way to get home?"

It took a moment to decipher the question. It was so hot in here. "I walk."

"Nope," he said.

What? I thought. I needed fresh air. I managed to get onto my knees but then I realized that I had no idea how I was going to get up. While I thought about crawling out of the door, I felt Shiloah's hands under my arms, lifting me up. "Wha--"

"I'm going to give you a ride home," Shiloah said. "I can't just let you go out on your own into the cold air."

Despite my (weak) protests, he half carried me out of the school. He would be in so much trouble for skipping class. So much trouble. And isn't it his first day? No, that's not right. He would have started Monday. Oh, well. No stopping him now.

He took me out to a blue car with a dent in the hood and dug out a set of keys, along with a handful of candy wrappers, from his jeans pocket. "Here we are," he muttered.

"Isn't this the car that ran me over?" I murmured, frowning at the dent in the hood. Yes, yes, I remember distinctly. That was the exact spot my head slammed into.

"Oh, shit," said Shiloah suddenly. "My mom did that to your face? I mean, she said she hit a guy, but that he was fine. She didn't mention any blood at the scene..."
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Publication Date: 11-21-2011

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