Dallas had seen me that summer, hanging around Laura and the weight room for volleyball, and he had hoped to meet me. He was a foster child because when he was young his parents died. For the past 5 years or so, Dallas had been living with a foster family.
As a freshman, I was only 15 years old. And according to my parents, I was not old enough to date. So of course, soon Dallas asked me out. I had to tell him the “rules of my house” and explain to him why I couldn’t date him. But we still hung out and liked each other more every day.
We had our ups and we had our downs through freshman year. Things started getting better until the beginning of the 3rd trimester of that year. Dallas’ foster family decided to kick him out. Dallas called me the day it happened and tried to explain to me what was going to happen.
The next day at school, he came up to me, telling me it was his last day at Kennedy. I couldn’t stand the thought of not seeing him again. I cried all day, and was late to almost all my classes because he was talking to me.
I remember that day too well. I didn’t eat anything all day, and I especially didn’t rush to class. After every class, Dallas was waiting for me outside the door, just waiting to walk me to my next class.
The end of the day arrived and my friend, who was my ride, wanted to leave. She walked slowly in front of us, leaving me and Dallas behind. We stood in-between the doors to the school and outside, getting ready to say goodbye. Of course I cried while he hugged me one last time. It was one of the worse days of my life. And if I could go back and change that day I would. I would have done anything to stop him from leaving.
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