Old Reunions

"Yo Carlo,"

I whipped my head around, frustration seething from my every pore. Why couldn't he just leave me alone, couldn't he see I didn't want to talk.

The counsellor bounded on the heels of his feet as he heaved his heavy body over to me. He glistened like a pale jelly in the hot Arazionian sun. I sighed adjusting the straps of my backpack, there was no getting out of this. I wasn't even going to try, not with the whole playground as potential witness.

"Carlo, you little angel," I snarled at that. Just because I was blond and small did not mean I was an angel. "I have someone I'd like you to meet, they lost their parents a few months ago too. I think it would be beneficial for both of you to exchange thoughts." The roles of fat under his chin lifted slightly as he flashed his set of perfectly white teeth. I scoffed, this guy was ridiculous, how he even qualified to be a children's counsellor I have no idea.

"So?" I looked up at his expecting face. Other kids were beginning to stop and watch now. All eagerly awaiting the sudden outburst of rage that often followed these chats. But not today, if I ever wanted to stop being labelled as the kid with issues then this was the only path. Even if my guide was an old fat guy who seriously needed some deodorant.

"Sure sir," I mumbled shying away from the shocked eyes of my peers. Yeah, metal issues kid can still have some manners.

The councillor clapped his sausage hands together and placed them in the familiar groves of my shoulders. This wasn't the first time this had happened, he visiting me on the playground. Always he came with that phoney smile and firm hands clamped over my boney shoulders in a vice-like grip. Steering me through the school grounds like a policeman escorting a prisoner. But this time it was different, he seemed genuinely excited.

Finally, after a thousand curious glances, the councillor ushered me into his office.

The room was an explosion of posters, all brightly coloured with cheesy slogans like "Turn that frown upside down" And "the ocean may be blue but you don't have to be too". I grumbled a small thanks as he pulled up a cushy chair worn with age.

"Wait here," he smiled "I'll just bring him in." He slammed the small office door behind him leaving me to roast in the stale dry air.

The cool air of the portable fan in the corner of the room was just beginning to lick at my face when he barged back in.

"Carlo I would like you to meet Marco," he smiled and stepped back revelling. No. It couldn't be. But it was. Those pale green eyes and black slicked-back hair. The bird-like figure down to the shallow dips under his caramel cheekbones. They all fit.

The boy gave a shy smile at me,

"Hello Carlo," he said tentatively My heart raced as I remembered back to that night, it had been the last time I saw my parents, and this guy was to blame.

It had been the day I was waiting for my whole life. And finally, Dad had agreed, I was going to be a jockey. Riding horses around an adrenaline lined track in the same uniform my mother and father had worn in their day. I had it all planned, My Mom, Dad, and I would spend the week up at my uncle Max's farm. Riding out into the sunset every night until we collapsed from exhaustion. Then when Dad saw how determined I was he would let me finally become his apprentice. Mucking out stables and tending to horses until it was my turn in the saddle.

But then he came, him and his stupid drunk Dad racing up and down the highway like a madman. My parents had fought so hard to avoid him but the metal beast came crashing in. Tires screeched, mixed with the sounds of boyish screams as both our parents were ripped from us. The ambulance had dragged us from the wreckage kicking and crying like it was the world's end. We had shared a room in the hospital as they mended our scars and breaks. But nothing could fix our hearts. It was just us in that room. The boy who was an angel and the boy who was a bird lying in stunned silence. It was that moment I had decided. If I ever saw that punk again I was going to kill him.

Marco sat down on the wooden stool in front of me. His hands jumped like flees when the councillor clamped his hands of each of our heads.

"You guys are gonna be great friends ain't that right Marco,"

Marco nodded as he gulped. My face was fixed in a blank mask

"Sure," I gritted through my teeth. The counsellor laughed and walked over to the door.

"I'll just leave you two to chat then,"

As soon as the door clicked shut and scrambled up from my chair. My hands were around Marco's throat in an instant and I pressed him against the wall.

"Give me one good reason why I shouldn't beat the living daylights out of you,"

Spittle flew from his purple lips as he blurted out an answer.

"You should, I never meant for this to happen. But it was my Dad driving remember. I hate myself just as much as you hate me for not talking to you. We both lost our parents that day, the least I could have done was try to say sorry."

Tears streamed down his face and suddenly regret tugged at my heartstrings. What was I doing? He was just a kid, lost like me. But my rage still needed to be let out. I dropped him from the wall and grasped the nearest pillow. Screaming my lungs out into the soft fabric as Marco patted my back with an assuring hand.

"I.."

"It's okay," He muttered

"I wanted to hurt you too at first."

We plunked back down in the chairs. Unspeaking, then a smile, then a few words of comfort, and finally an embrace. Painful sobbing echoed around the room, but it was the good kind. Like when you pull out a loose tooth, you know it will feel better afterwards.

And that's how it began, the unbreakable bond formed through tragedy. All beginning with nothing more than two lost boys and a jelly outside the door.