He Came Through the Window

Part 18

The window remained unlatched and accessable for days on end. It also remained shut. My eyes, blurred with moisture, would lock on the glass for hours, watching the snow flurries accumulate at the top of the fire escape. That accumuated snow remained, clean, untouched and without Holland's massive footprints tattooed into it. Eventually, my body accepted defeat and would fall into a dull, dreamless sleep. Day after day, that godforsaken alarm woke me up, and I'd roll over and pat the unoccupied part of the bed before realizing it was empty. The smell of cheap Axe was gone, as was the low snoring that always helped to lull me to sleep. I was left to change into school clothes in my own company, occasionally spinning around and waiting to hear Holland's low chuckling or see his eyebrows rise in arousal.

"What the hell did I do?" I'd mumbled to myself the morning after he left. Holding my breath and blinking back tears, I'd stormed out the bedroom and made my way for the bathroom.

"Good morning," My father had acknowledged dryly from his armchair as I slammed the bathroom door in his face.

I spent that whole weekend with my back to him, ignoring his questions and shrugging when he raised his voice. We ate dinner in silence, or at least he ate. I found myself in a daze on several occasions, pushing my food around the plate as I had done as a kid with broccoli. We kept the TV on quietly in the background, but no one watched it. We just sat there with our food, trying as hard as we could to avoid each other's gaze. And for the first time in years, we didn't watch Sunday cartoons together on the couch with bowls of suggary goodness. I kept my door locked, curled in a ball on the bed and tried to block the images of Holland's smile.

The following Monday, November 12, I got called to the principal's office for a meeting about my truancy. The tall, lanky hall monitor was in my grade, and he walked into my first class of the day with black earbuds in and pants sagging worse than they should have been. He had some blond stubble at the end of his chin and short hair on his head to match. He tossed the pass in my direction, smirking arrogantly when he realized what it was for.

"Little Miss. Perfect Sheer's in trouble with Mr. Wilkins, eh?" He snickered.

My eyes rolled as I snatched the paper from him. "Shut up, Todd."

"Watch out for this one, Teach!" Todd joked to the teacher as he opened the door to leave. "She's a rebel!"

Reluctantly, I allowed Todd to lead me to the principal's office, which I had only been to once. It was Junior year after my SAT scores had come in, and the principal simply wanted to speak to me about scholarship opportunities for the following year. He had called Holland down directly after me with a list of colleges willing to offer him academic scholorships. None of it was enough money, and he declined every one of them. It was that or India, and in the end, he ended up losing both of them.

"Miss. Sheer," Mr. Wilkins began, leaning back in his chair and resting his hands on his large gut. He was a large man who wasn't much taller than me, and his face was covered in a bushy, black beard. He was one of those men with a giant heart and a deep desire to help people, but he was stern when it came to breaking his rules. "I never thought I'd see you in here for something like this."

I gulped a little, hoping he wouldn't hear it. My hands grabbed at my knees, making my entire body tense.

"Do you want to explain to me why you skipped school on Friday?" It wasn't a question. Wilkins leaned forward, folding his hands on the desk and keeping his gaze on me.

I sighed, shrugging my shoulders and keeping my gaze away from him. I sat there silently, kicking my feet together under the hard chair and drumming my fingers on my legs.

"Ayden," Wilkins broke the silence. "I know there was a funeral for India Ambrock last Friday; it was listed in the paper."

I groaned a little to myself. Wilkins always had a fresh copy of the New York Times or the New Yorker in his desk drawer, and constantly spent slow moments in his office reading. The one other time I had been to his office, he was in the middle of reading the latest cover story regarding the tanking economy. "And you think I was there?"