But it was over the weekend where we saw the backlash of the no-bullying policy firsthand. Their code had been thrown off balance. They wanted order. The quiet suburbia that I hated and liked changed in hours.

Returning books to the library suddenly became one of the scariest things I’ve ever done in my time at high school. Stealth was involved, but I wasn’t good at being stealthy; I’m still not good at it. And I still got an amazing series of bruises on my arms and a big one on my chest before fleeing to the sheltered area of the park.

I didn’t feel safe leaving the park. They – the strong Jocks, the pompous “daddy’s boys”, the bossy upperclassmen – still roamed the streets. I didn’t leave.

The night came slowly. I was scared to answer my phone, even just to reply to the text messages or calls, for the fear of being found outweighed everything else. Streetlights turned on. The sound of cars passing by slowly quieted. The train still stopped every hour.

Yet they still roamed, like predators looking for their next kill.

I kept myself under control. I didn’t move, and when I did, it was slow enough to not make any noise. The sheltered area suddenly felt smaller, or maybe it was because the shadows got longer and longer until they merged together into a single dark space.

In the distance, peering through the branches towards the street, a figure approached, silhouetted from a floodlight on a storefront façade.

Ryan – the blank-faced, green-eyed kid who I had known for a fraction of my life – was the most relieving single sight I had ever seen. His fingers were rolled into his hands. His brows were furrowed. He looked positively angry.

His actions said otherwise. He approached, kneeled down next to me, and produced a Post-It. I quietly took it, and he placed his hands on my shoulders, like he wanted to hug me.

Your sister asked me to see if you were okay. Are you?

I sighed loudly, leaning into Ryan’s chest and allowing his arms to go around my back. “Oh my God,” I whispered into his coat. “I…I was…” Suddenly, I felt breathless. I pushed back and covered my mouth with my hand, trying to steady my breathing and keep quiet.

Ryan wrote another Post-It once my panting had returned to normal.

Want me to walk you home?

Without even a second thought, I grabbed his hand and nodded. “Yes. Please, I, I don’t feel safe alone.”

Something in Ryan’s eyes changed in that moment, in that second, when I asked for his help. The light in his eyes brightened, like he was pleased to hear that. His eyebrows pulled up and he nodded quickly and furiously, like he was suddenly so scared of letting me down.

He departed from the sheltered area first. He gestured for me to follow in his footsteps. I took Ryan’s hand and he led forward into the darkness of the night.

The Mission Impossible music began playing in my head. I wanted it to stop. It didn’t.

Ryan wanted to cut by the library and then past the train station, but loud voices were heard in the darkness. I suggested cutting through the town green before crossing the train tracks via the nearby parking lot, but the sound of the police calling out and running feet stopped us very quickly.

People were actually arrested. I’m not entirely sure of the extent of the bullying, but if they’re getting arrested, then some serious shit was going down.

It was in all the papers a day later. There was the usual verbal and physical abuse, but it suddenly applied to everyone, despite who they were. An eyewitness in town said they saw some students threatening to, from the looks of it, curb stomp someone. They were the ones who were arrested.

After listening to that, I told Ryan that I didn’t want to cross through town. Ryan decided to have us take the long way back, basically crossing the train tracks on the edge of town before looping and following the beach back to my house.

I didn’t let go of his hand that entire time. It was an hour and a half “mission”. I must’ve been squeezing his hand hard because once I let go of it, Ryan massaged it with his thumb. “Sorry,” I whispered, now walking the block before my house appeared. Ryan silently assured me that he was okay. The corners of his mouth were turned up slightly. “Thank you for coming to find me.” He stuck out his hand. I smiled and we shook.

Wow, you have soft hands.

Suddenly, I winced in pain from my arm. Ryan recoiled quickly. Maybe he thought that he had inflicted the pain somehow. “No, no,” I told him, “I…I have bruises.” I gestured up and down my arms. “And…” I gestured to my chest. Ryan looked horrified, staring off into my chest while his eyebrows pulled up. “I-it’s okay. Ryan…” I stepped forward and put my hand on his arm. “I’m okay. I swear.”

His mouth opened, and in that moment, I thought that Ryan was going to speak. Rather, he mouthed, “Okay.”

I smiled weakly. “Thanks, again. For everything.”

“Adrian?” came Alyssa’s voice. She was stomping down the front steps. “Are you hurt? What happened to you?” she asked, reaching forward and grabbing my arms.

I withdrew from the pain. “Ah!” She pulled back quickly as well. “I have, uh, b-bruises on my arms.”

“Sorry!” she unintentionally shouted. Alyssa’s eyes glanced to Ryan before she spoke again, “Thank you.”

Ryan nodded slowly, his face having become a blank slate again.

Gunshots rang through the air suddenly; we all froze. Three seconds passed, and we all audibly sighed around the same time. “You don’t hear that everyday,” I mused.

It had turned out that someone, I don’t remember if it was someone from high school, tried to take a police officer’s gun while intoxicated. The safety wasn’t on. Only cosmetic damage to the nearby dry cleaners was sustained.

“Come on, let’s go inside.” Alyssa took my thumb and began pulling.

“Where’s Dad?” I asked, being pulled gently towards the front door.

“He’s upstairs reading. Mom’s out with friends. It’s a ‘fend-for-yourself’ night,” she told me.

I nodded and followed her as she walked in. I turned back to Ryan and asked, “Would you, like something to eat before you go? As a ‘thank you’ thing?” He shook his head quickly. “Okay. I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

Ryan smiled broadly, which quickly dissipated into his normal stone-face. He waved and walked away.

Alyssa and I watched him leave. “I told you you like him.”

I turned to her. I shrugged nonchalantly and asked, “Where’s your reasoning?”

She shrugged. “Well, I’m pretty sure he likes you.”

“Don’t be stupid,” I told her, suddenly unable to follow the thought with anything else. I shook my head furiously and brushed of the thought. No, Ryan was just a friend. Nothing more. “Can you, just, drop the whole ‘finding a crush’ thing with him?” Before she asked why, I finished with, “Just…for the time being?”

She nodded. “Yeah, sorry. I didn’t mean for it to bother you.”

“No, no. I mean, it’s a little annoying. Just, cool off with that for a little?” Alyssa nodded. I turned and followed her into the house.

These weird “suburban attacks” continued for a couple more days. I just stopped going into town, or I just hid in the sheltered area of the park to be alone.

I still walked with Ryan at night, though. After the first night, no one was out. Police patrolled all the time. It was almost weird. It was almost like it was some sort of weird daydream.

Ryan now occasionally wrote a Post-It while we walked. He’s surprisingly philosophical and insightful, constantly giving me written riddles and sayings pertaining to what was happening to me at that moment.

He never said anything, though, usually just a scribbled saying. Admittedly, it was nice to walk with him.

But a new curiosity began building in me as we walked – could he speak, or did he just choose not to? Or, was he actually mute? I had talked to him about anything and everything on my mind, unashamedly for that matter, because I believed that he would disappear from my mind (because before this, I was still thoroughly convinced that he was a figment of my imagination).

But now the conversation, in my opinion, had stalled. It felt odd talking to him because I knew he was real, or at least I knew he wasn’t a product of my imagination, and if he could talk, I wanted him to speak.

So, one night, I decided that I would get a rise out of him. It wasn’t a clever plan, but I thought that, after a specific amount of time, he would crack.

I started off that night by saying that I was dating someone. If he did go to my school, then I preferred the gender-neutral pronouns to protect myself. But anyways, I told him that I was dating someone, which elicited no response. So I continued on with explaining the “everyday problems” with whom I was dating, which were mostly problems with this imaginary figure, from their appearance, personality, hygiene, etc. Then, to make it worse, I became wishy-washy, saying that the good came with the bad when the bad was clearly toppling my relationship scale.

“I just – ” I sighed. “ – I don’t know. They’re nice, kind of, but they smell like feet. Their hair is gross and they don’t communicate really well. Or at all.” By that point, I had seen his jaw tense, but that was about it. But as I got to their hobbies, which included how their taxidermy pigeons repulsed me, he turned on his heels and stared long and hard at me. He pulled out his Post-Its and the Sharpie and handed me a note, which I refused to see because I knew that if I accepted it, he wouldn’t speak. It got to the point where it was literally under my nose and I was still ignoring it.

“Holy God!” he shouted. “Take the fucking note!” He shoved the note into my face, which didn’t stick. It fell to the ground. “Oh my God!” Ryan shouted, fists balled at his side as he stomped the ground. “Adrian! If you don’t like them then fucking don’t date them! Jesus, someone who’s deaf, dumb, and stupid could figure that out faster than you!”

I pulled back, both surprised that my plan had worked, but also hurt that he had said those things. Ryan suddenly recoiled as well, turning away from me and proceeding on his walk. “I should go,” I whispered, and turned back to walk to my house.

I ultimately didn’t walk with him for the next few days. I mean, I also didn’t know how to approach him. I guess I knew that I did wrong, but I suppose I was just waiting for him to cool down. When the week ended, I wanted to walk over to the park and wait there, but he ended up behind me. “I’m sorry,” I whispered, hoping he had heard me. “I just…I didn’t mean for you to get angry. I just wanted to hear you talk.”

Once I said that, he sighed slowly and removed the note he attempted to stick on my face from his pocket. It said simply:

You shouldn’t be with someone you can’t stand. What’s the point of that?

I frowned, feeling even shittier than I had previously. I began to speak but Ryan’s mouth curled into a smile, and he shushed me. A thought occurred. “What are you running away from?” He looked confused, and then I explained. “Well, you said we all run away from something. What are you running away from?”

He chuckled slightly. Another note passed into my hands, which said:

A friend is at my house. I just wanted a breather from them.

“You should go home soon. I’m sure they’ve begun to wonder what’s happened to you.” He shrugged and shook his head. “What about your parents?” Ryan shrugged again. “Well, if I was in your friend’s situation, I would worry about you.” He stared blankly at me before I added, “You’re my friend. Why wouldn’t I care about you?”

He wearily smiled, but his eyes were still sad. He quietly walked over, placed his head on my shoulder, and wrapped his arms around my torso. “Really?” he asked, his voice so hoarse that it didn’t sound like him.

I cautiously wrapped my arms around him, slightly uncomfortable with the affection that was being presented. “Yeah.” I dropped my arms and pushed him away slowly. “You should go home now,” I told him. He nodded and walked back with me to my house, where we said our goodbyes and parted ways for the time being.