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This is the very beginning of a to-be-long story about...well we'll get to that. :) |
| Chapter 1 Walking from my car, I fret over a test I have to take second period. I am too busy worrying that I walk smack into someone. I would have gone sprawling backwards and fell, but the person sticks his hand out quickly. I grab onto it hurriedly and pull myself back up, looking at the guy for the first time. “You okay?” Tyson Rivers asks politely as his mouth involuntarily curls into a silent chuckle. I nod, embarrassed, and feel my face flush a very unattractive shade of crimson. Hoping to hide it, I stoop down to pick up my books. By this time I have righted myself again, his is already loping away, shaking his shaggy blonde hair in laughter. I blush again and see a shock of curly red hair bobbing and weaving through the crowd towards me. She quickly falls in step beside me, her vivid green eyes alive as she fills me in on the latest gossip. My mind drifts off as she babbles on about who is dating who and who is kicked out of school. I have known Tyson since kindergarten. Well, actually I know his name and that is about it. Now that I think about it, I wonder why I have never noticed him before. He has deep brown eyes and high cheekbones; a broad jaw and curly brown-blonde hair. He has a stocky build at about 6ft tall. “Helloooo? Are you even listening Jade?” Tanya demands, pulling me out of my thoughts. “Erm…sorry Tanya. I’m just nervous for my test is all.” The bell shrilly rings and she takes that as her queue to huff and stalk off to first period. Oh well, I know she will forget she if mad at me before the end of first period. Glancing at the time, I hurry of to my first period class as well. I’m dosing off in second period pre-calculus. Why we have to start new material right after a test I do not know, but clearly nobody can focus. My cell phone pulses silently and I jump noticeably. Mr. Lively looks up from his drone about…whatever it was he was talking about…and gives me a tired look. “Is something the matter Miss Young?” “N-no,” I stammer, “just a papercut.” I stick my finger in my mouth to prove my point. “Hu…well no more disruptions,” he commands sternly as he returns to his lecture. Mr. Lively is an elderly man probably in his 60’s with white hair perpetually set in a perfect comb-over. He wears stiff, pressed collared shirts and pleated khaki pants. Checking around me, I sneak a peek at my cell phone. The text says: 4:15 Quaker Square -T Why would Tanya want to meet me at Quaker Square, out old industrial mill turned mall, after school? And couldn’t she have just told me this after class? I resolve to just ask her about it after class. The rest of class goes by uneventfully, and I even manage to jot down a couple notes. The bell rings again and we all race out, squeezing through the door and shooting down the hall to meet up with friend. I’m on my way to my locker when I see Tanya. “Hey! Whose phone did you send me that text from?” “What text?’ I show her and she says she did not send it. She thinks I should still go and see who shows up. It’s a public area, so there’s not really any danger in it. The thing that bothers me is if Tanya did not send it, who did? T…who is T? Tyson? No, I hardly even know him, I do not know why I even thought that. But, what if it is? Do I want to go? I really shouldn’t. I don’t know who it is I’m meeting. It’s probably just someone sending it to the wrong phone. Okay, so that’s it, I won’t go. What if it really is him? I have too much time to think in third period study hall. He might think I just blew him off. I don’t want to do that. I’m too curious, I guess I’ll have to go. There’s no harm in it anyway. When is school going to end? I’m practically vibrating in my seat and watching the clock tick by. Mandy, the girl next to me, keeps giving me dirty looks. Maybe I actually am vibrating. The bell has rung and she has left, so I guess I don’t have to deal with it. Fourth period, I think with a sigh of pleasure. Finally something to do. Granted it is only gym, but we’re running the mile today. I can’t wait to stretch my legs and not just sit. I hurry into the gym and change into an old track t-shirt and gym shorts. I start stretching as my fellow juniors file in. Most of the girls don’t even look at me, they are already used to my overzealous view on gym. Still, a couple girls roll their eyes in an amused sort of way and keep walking. I don’t really care what they think though, this is my element. I own the track. Finishing up, I walk back to the bleachers and sit down, waiting for all the other girls to finish up. “Ugggg, the mile again!” Tanya moans as she plops down next to me. “We haven’t run the mile since last year.” “Are you sure?” I roll my eyes at her sloth-like behavior as Coach Mason blunders in. He’s a big man, at about 6 ft tall and probably 3 feet across. He isn’t really fat, just beefy like a football player gone slightly to seed. Which makes sense because he played college ball with Ohio State Buckeyes. I have a feeling he wasn’t the cute quarterback; he was the giant line-backer with tree-trunk legs and a neck as wide as his head. His face is the color of a tomato, which would probably be due to an extremely high cholesterol. I know this because he is constantly whining about whatever “cholesterol lowering” diet his wife has put him on recently. “It’s just I…ohhhh!” She moans as Coach Mason lumbers by. “I…I don’t feel s-so well,” She stammers as I sit back to enjoy the marvel that is Tanya. Surprised, Coach Mason turns around to see who was sick, then his eyes narrow as he spots Tanya. “You again!” He exclaims. “You have “been sick” almost half of this year. Unless I have a note from your doctor, you are running that mile!” Of course she hadn’t thought ahead to make a doctor’s note, so I wonder what her next move will be. “C-can I talk to you privately?” She asks, keeping up her sick act. She gets up and walks across the gym. Coach Mason rolls his eyes but follows her. Now what? I can’t hear what their saying! It’s not like Tanya to perform without an audience. Tanya is fidgeting with something that Coach Mason can’t see, and then slips it into her pocket. Just then I feel my cell phone vibrate, I pull it out and answer it, ducking behind a group of girls in case Coach Mason came back. For a second I can’t hear anything, then I turn the volume way up and I can hear them talking. “So why did you have to talk to me in private?” “Well, it-it’s just sort of embarrassing…” her voice fades away. “Out with it!” Coach Mason commands, the picture of sensitivity. I can make out a sniffle and then… “P-please d-don’t yell!” Tanya sobs, “I’ve b-been having a r-really crummy day and I h-had a t-test last class and I have s-stomach cramps a-and I’m on m-my period!” I look up to see the rest. This was just too much emotion for Coach Mason. He starts stuttering and Tanya asks tentatively though sobs… “C-Can I g-go to the nurse?” “Go!” He says desperately, so embarrassed by her little outburst. With that, Tanya scurries over to the bleachers and picks up her bags, winking at me on her way out. I shake my head in awe. Coach Mason comes over to talk to the class, his face slightly redder than usual, and bellows for us all to get outside. I bounce out into the crisp fall air and breathe deeply, happy to be out of the stuffy, burnt pizza and floor cleaner smell of the school. I don’t even care that I can smell the stale cigarette smoke and god knows what else radiating from the parking lot, this was my element. I positioned my front foot just before the start line. One spitty blow into a whistle and I am off, setting my pace hard and fast. There are a couple people in front of me but that is okay, they will die out by lap two. Everything is perfectly in balance. My breathing is heavy but even. My legs are loosening up and straining lightly with my strides. Nothing else matters. There is just me and the track racing by below me. Everything else is gone from my mind. I am not worrying about the text from the mysterious “T”. I pick up the pace, now on lap three. My muscles are weary but I urge them on, almost done. Breathe. In, out. In, out. Lap four. I push harder than ever, sprinting with everything I have. Below me streaks the finish line and Coach Mason bellows out my time. Hands on my head, I breathe heavily, practically panting. I lay on my back and catch my breath. I am so close! One second. I will get that record next time. Groaning in frustration, I roll onto my stomach and push myself back to my feet, cheering on the rest of my class as they stumble over the finish line. We trudge back up to the gym and with stiff legs, change back into our clothes. I walk over to a stack of wrestling mats and flop down on them, dozing in and out of consciousness until I hear the dismissal bell blaring at 3:00. I drift to my locker, getting jostled on all sides by the anxious and stressed kids, always late for something. Walking through the parking lot toward my car, I am struck by how much my car stands out. I walk through a line of safe Toyotas, Volvos, and hybrid cars until I reach my 1972 Ford. There’s no radio, the paint is peeling in more than one place, and the back bumper hands off slightly, but it usually runs and it is 100% mine. I open the door and climb in, emitting a small shower of rust as I slam the door behind me. Rushing in the house 20 minutes later, I push the flashing message sign on the phone and drop m bag on the floor near the shoe pile as my mom’s tired voice echoes through the room. “Hey Jade! It’s mom. I took the little kids to the doctor so we won’t be home for a while. Can you take the chicken out of the freezer for me? Love you!” I did as instructed as Jared walks into the kitchen, waving to carpool Mom of the Day and kicking off his shoes and dropping his backpack with a thunk by mine. “Hey, what’s up?” he calls to me. “Mom said she took D, Whitney, and Maddy to the doctor so we got some time free.” “Oh, cool.” “I’m heading out for a little but tell mom I’ll be home by dinner. Try not to burn the house down!” I call after him as he plods upstairs to his room. “Whatever.” I wonder if he ever gets sick of being the only boy and being one of the middle kids. Dakota, the oldest, is gone to Ohio State, so she doesn’t have to deal with the whole family much. I’m old enough to drive so I can get away from the chaos. It can get a little hectic at times. Sometimes I feel a little bad for Jared, having to put up with the little kids and all this girl stuff. I pound my way upstairs to my room, taking in the straining shelves of trophies and awards, Harvard posters, and colossal map of the world. There are little red flags on it for all the places I have been. So far they are still clustered in the United States. I plan to travel all around the world, marking off the places as I go. I walk into the bathroom and brush my teeth, glancing at my reflection as I go. I see dark brown hair straightened out falling to my shoulders, blue-grey eyes spaced to far apart, a little nose and generous mouth. Plain. That’s basically what I see when I look in the mirror. Not pretty, but not really ugly either. I sigh and go downstairs and out the door, heading out of my little community of Monroe falls back to Akron to meet this “T’. |
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