I don't know why I like him so much. There's nothing particularly special about him. He's just another kid messing around as most kids my age do, being noisy and obnoxious. So why I am so drawn to him, I have no clue.
Alexander is your typical fourteen year old boy. Blond hair, blue eyes, about five foot seven. He wheres baggy clothes and never really bothers to brush his hair properly. Everything you might see in any teenage boy. Yet I find myself liking him. A lot.
Alexander and I have gone to the same school since I joined in the second grade. We have been in the same class on and off since the, but I never knew him. We are both on the quiet side, him hanging out mainly just with his two best friends, and me pretty much on my own. We may have spent years in the same room, but we may as well have been on different planets. That is, until December.
I was walking home from school, bundled in my heaviest winter attire, thanking God that I lived in the south. My backpack was heavy on my shoulders, crammed with every sort of textbook one could imagine. In my hands, I carried three more books and various electronics. You could definitely say I had my hands full. I was thinking over the day, pointing out the good parts as well as the bad in my head. I was just beginning to think about and incident with my math teacher when I found myself sliding across a patch of ice and then landing hard on the ground, my books flying everywhere. I was stunned. It took me a few seconds to realize what had happened, and then I tried to get up. Tried, but didn't succeed. A sharp stab of pain shot up my leg. I gasped aloud, and turned my attention to the aching limb. What was wrong with it? It only took a few seconds of initial surprise and discussed to realize that my leg was facing the entirely wrong way, a way that it should never be able to bend. Once I came to the realization that my leg was broken, I began to really feel the pain. Tears burst out of my eyes almost immediately and I started screaming. What was I going to do? Sit out in the cold with a broken leg and wait for someone to pass by? Well, thank goodness for me someone did pass by. Alexander.
He showed up almost immediately, running to my aid in a very dangerous way considering how icy I now knew it was. He knelt down beside me and set a protective arm on my shoulder, pulling out his cell phone to call an ambulance. Then he picked up my books and set them into a neat pile beside me, along with the backpack he gently removed from my shoulders. This is really all I remember, and the memory is blurred through pain and tears and the sound of a siren. The next thing I remembered, I was in a hospital bed, surrounded by my family. When I asked about Alexander, no one knew what I meant. They told me that I must have dreamt it, and that I called 911 myself. But I know the truth. And so does Alexander.