Keeping Time- Chapter 4

On the bus trip to school, Tyrone was finishing up on his latest song. "I think that this one's going be your best yet." whispered the enthusiastic Vannessa, over Tyrone's shoulder.

Jack Woodsworth was the big time bully of Tisdale High. Some said he was the Godfather of the Tisdale MAFIA even. By the way he dressed you could tell that his family weren't the richest people around, and that domestic violence was a part of everyday life. "Whashoo writin' in der, eh?" asked Jack in an unfriendly tone, snatching the notebook from Tyrone's hands. You could see the look of disappointment wash over Jack's face as it wasn't the kind of thing he could make a joke out of. "Uh...," he was glassy-eyed as he read a part of a song. "Uh... that's what I call... um, ehr... lame-o? Yeah, that's what I call lame!" He said, nudging his minions so they would laugh with him. Tyrone figured that when other people laughed at his victim, he felt better about himself. "Just give him back the notebook why doh-n'cha!" said Vannessa as she reached for the notebook. Jack opened the bus window and prepared to throw the notebook out. "Don't you dare!" screamed Vannessa, hurling herself at the now airborn notebook. It was too late, it was out the widow and on it's way. "Look don't--" began a relaxed Tyrone, but Vannessa was already out the bus door. Tyrone grabbed their book bags and ran for the closing door, just making it through and almost getting run over by the bus itself. As Tyrone looked back, it seemed the bus itself was laughing as everyone inside was pointing and laughing. The notebook had landed face down in a puddle. The sad little book lay glum on the side of the road, and Vannessa was on her knees beside it, crying. "It's alright. It's alright, don't worry. It don't matter. Nothin' matters to me right now, but you." said the reassuring Tyrone, kindly rapping his jacket around Vannessa and helping her up. "Aw, and by the way, that bus is long gone. If you ask me I reckon better we don't up at all's, then late. Let's go home."

Once they were back under the bridge, they moved the couch out onto the deck and had some orange juice. "Y'know what I think? I think we should get some more stuff for this place, like paintings." suggested Tyrone, looking out at the view, then at the empty, soul-less walls. By this time, Tyrone was outstretched on the couch, and Vannessa was resting just next to him on the couch, partially on top of him. "Yeah, I'd like that." said Vannessa, and she fell asleep.

"Tommorow's Friday 'n all." Tyrone looked at Vannessa, "Friday?" he asked, puzzled. "Well, my folks'll be home 'n all, so we'll both have to go back home, y'know?" Tyrone felt something in his stomach, like his gut had been dropped from the top of a 39 storey building. "Um, yer, 'course, Heh..." he said. "Hey, I gossum paper, do 'ya wanna re-write your song?" asked Vannessa, already fetching the paper as if Tyrone had said yes. "Oh, uh... mkay, I guess." Tyrone sounded unsure, but he knew that he wanted so badly to hear her sing again.

Together they worked on his song, writing lyrics, hearing how it sounds, editing it, and adding bits and pieces. It was almost perfect, when they realized that it was getting dark. They moved the TV over to the couch (of which was out on the deck still.) and Tyrone let Vannessa rest while he made dinner. After they ate, they watched a little more TV.

Tyrone awoke to the sound of a thud. It was still dark out, and the tiny portable TV had lost battery and switched off at some point in the night. He gently arose from the couch, putting Vannessa down gently, and gave her a kiss. They weren't alone, Tyrone could feel it, and thought he could hear it. He grabbed a large knife from the bench, next to the gas stove, and searched the house. He heard their book bags shuffling in the dark, and his ears made out the sound of something opening, or closing. He threw the knife into the darkness, and switched on an electric lantern. To Tyrone's surprise, it was Jack! He must have followed them to their home.

"Put it down. Put it all down, right now... Everything!" said Tyrone, and as he stared at Jack, he saw that he was bleeding from a deep cut. It wasn't the knife he threw, that was a clear miss, and had bounced off the concrete wall. Was it his father? Was it something that had happened inside his home? Vannessa woke up, and looked around, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. "What is it Tyrone?" she said, still not fully awake. "Lie down Vannessa, and put your shirt back on... We have a visitor." Jack looked straight at the couch, and Vannessa. She had only a bra on, and her jeans. Vannessa made a short squealling sound, and ducked down behind the couch. Jack reached for the knife that had been thrown at him, stood up, and began to take a vioent swing at Tyrone. Tyrone had been back up to the edge of the deck, any further and he would fall, and possibly kill himself. "Put the knife down, Jack, put it... down." By this time, Jack was panting with rage, and ran straight at Tyrone, with the knife ready to meet Tyrone's gut. From the corner of his eye, Tyrone could see Vannessa crying, and that made Tyrone mad. Without thinking, he jumped to the left, and watched as Jack fell off the edge of the deck, into a shallow rock pool. The water around Jack was a diluted red, and as the waves crashed up on Jack, you could see that he was dead and bleeding.

The next day on the bus, rumours were going around that Jack's father had accidentally bashed him so hard that he went to hospital and died. The more and more Tyrone heard this, the more and more he realized what it feels like to lose a loved one. When he lost his parents he was only ten, and he still didn't fully understand the concept of death. Now that he did, he couldn't help but feel sorry for the Woodsworth's. Tyrone took some sheets of paper from his book bag, and started writing another song. This time it was a sad song, his way of expressing pain, and Vannessa didn't even take the time to read it. Vannessa and Tyrone didn't speak the whole day. In math class, she actually did her work, in Science, she answered questions, and when school was over, she took a seat next to a little girl.

'I didn't actually kill him, did I? I wasn't the one, was I? It was accidental, uh... no, not suicide, it was self-defence.' thought Tyrone, staring into the nothingness.

That night, Tyrone took the bus back to his new home. He knew Vannessa wasn't there, so he wouldn't get screamed at or ignored. He sat on the couch and flicked on the TV, but the battery had been drained the other night. He lay on the bed and tried to read a book, but he just couldn't. He ripped an empty page out of the book, and scribbled a note into it.