The nurse told me to lie down on the bed with an icepack on my head. I lay back on the bed and placed the cold pack on my forehead where a bump was surely forming. The nurse went over to a computer that was old enough to be the mother of a dinosaur and began clicking away. I thought she might’ve been playing Solitaire until she called over to me.

“Name, Darling?”

“Sam,” I said, wishing hopelessly that that would do.

“Last name, Darling,” She demanded. I sighed and hesitated.

“Silvia Annette Mason,”

“Thank you, Silvia,”

“Sam,” I corrected, more rudely than necessary.

“Sam,” she agreed, smiling at me.

Jonathan walked over to me and smiled, shaking his head.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he dismissed. I rolled my eyes and caught the ice pack as it was about to fall. He laughed at me and shooed my feet with his hands. I moved my legs over and Jonathan jumped up onto the plastic bed, ripping the delicate paper in the process.

“Well?” he asked, looking at me expectantly.

“What?” I said, unsure if his question

“You were telling me a story,” I looked at the beautiful British boy curiously. “About the shrinks’ theories,”

“You were actually paying attention?” I was impressed, then angered. “How did you do that? I told you almost every detail to my stupid sob story when I haven’t ever told anyone my middle name!” I was beginning to yell, and Jonathan shushed me with his finger. I sighed and caught the cold press that slipped off my head once more, replacing it on the bump again. “How did you do that?” I asked for what seemed to be the third time. It was a stupid question, really. He was so amazingly beautiful that any girl would tare out her heart and wear it on her sleeve for him. His eyes were so easy to get lost in. All the bright blue and the tinge of green with the glint that made me so very happy to be sitting so close to him…

“I was saying,” I began again, after bringing my head home from the clouds. “Ugh! I hate this thing!” I yelled as the ice pack fell off my head for a third time. Jonathan smiled at my potential anger and grabbed the cold compress from my hands. He reached over and placed the compress onto my bump, where it stayed perfectly. I sighed up at him with an angry glare in my eyes. He laughed at my fake anger. ”Thank you,” I mumbled begrudgingly.

“You’re welcome,” he smiled. “Please continue with your story,” he requested.

“I said that one of the shrink’s theories was that my heart was sore or something form losing my family so quickly at such a young age.” I went on, once more amazed by his power, “They thought that my heart was sad because I had no one to love, it got cold and empty, resulting in-- me” I finished sorely, thinking. He must’ve been thinking too, because we sat in silence for a while.

“It’s not that unreasonable,” Jonathan said a few minutes later. I looked up at him sitting at the foot of the bed. My mind had drifted elsewhere, leaving behind our recent conversation. “I understand what they’re saying, the shrinks, I see what they mean about they’re theories, it makes sense. I get it at least,” Jonathan told me. I thought about it for a moment.

“I sort of get it, too,” I agreed slowly. Stupid beautiful British boy making me agree with him. The stout nurse returned, smiling at us as if we were creatures of a foreign planet.

“You can leave when your head feels better, darling,” she allowed. I nodded and the cold compress fell off my head. I looked down to Jonathan as it hit the ground.

“We’re leaving now,” I declared. Jonathan jumped down from the plastic bed so I could stand up, too. We walked back to the dorm rooms quietly, the only sound being our feet on the tiles of the empty hallway. He followed me all the way to my door, then stopped outside of it, staring off into space.

I watched him as he was zoned out, his bright blue eyes staying solitary on one thing, never moving. I wasn’t sure how I felt about being with him, him being with me. I knew nothing about him, where he came from, why he was here. He could’ve been a mass murderer with a diabolical plan, he could’ve been a child molester or a kidnapper, though I highly doubted that God would make someone so beautiful such a horrible person. Jonathan could have had a knife and eight different kinds of guns hidden inside his jacket, yet I wanted nothing more than to be alone with him in my room. Either I was a very sick person or I put a lot of faith in people. I pondered his light blue eyes. The aqua eyes that could have been covering a criminal intention. But they weren’t; his eyes were nothing but pure blue diamonds, almost translucent, being unable hide anything evil or criminal. He was simply a kid. Seventeen, like me, an orphan, like me, a kid that would probably end up saving the rainforests or conserving the ozone layer for the nest one million years, unlike me. He probably had a chance to be something great, while I never would. I couldn’t. I was already too far from normal.