All Night Long (Olympus Drive Chronicles)

Time: 16:29

Trevor

The sun has already set by the time my last class is done. It's the start of the winter break and the students are more than ready to turn in their tests and go. The stack of grading? It can wait until I'm home avoiding talking to my parents. That sounds cruel, however they generally deserve it. I think most people think their parents are weird. I am right, however.

I check my phone. Five texts from my dad telling me to come home soon as it's the solstice. I don't know what he thinks that means, but it's probably not what it actually means. My mother texted as well, pictures of flowers in the yard, followed by a picture of herself in the yard, where my dad is sneaking up behind her, followed by a picture of him hugging her. I've tried to get them on social media so they can feel validated by other people who aren't me and share these things so I can look at them later at my leisure. But no. They refuse and just text me pictures of themselves despite the fact that I know what they look like.

I am in an overly dull mood tonight. Probably the holidays. That's all I'm sure. Feeling---I don't know what. I'm thrilled my dad is home and my mom is happy. I am. Sometimes I just feel like I'm wandering around. Waiting for my own life to start. I should feel grateful my life is boring, and I am. But everyone needs a bit of magic in their lives, don't they?

I gather up my papers. I text my parents that I'll be home soon. I'll stop for tea and delay going home. I feel like being with myself tonight and that isn't their fault. I'm just in an ill humor.

My phone buzzes. Axel? We don't call each other. We're adults we text each other if we need anything. I like this person that my dad found/kidnapped from some cursed island. I do. He's cool, we're cool. We just don't have a lot in common, for example I'm a literature professor and I don't think he can read. He's gay, I'm probably gay based off the way I walk and talk, there's that. We're fine; we just don't usually call each other just to chat.

"What's up?" I ask, answering and putting it on speaker while I finish packing my bags.

"Did Phoenix talk to you at all today?"

"No," that's his husband. I like him; we get on talking about music or film and it's a valid enough question in that we text each other fairly often if we read or watch something we know the other would like. That said, I don't see why he needs that question answered right now. "Why? What's going on?"

"Thanks," he hangs up.

"Happy Christmas," I mutter. Are they having a fight? I've seen them argue before. Them 'arguing' involves two people crying, hugging each other, or at worst holding hands and crying and not looking at each other. Whatever. Knowing them they're playing some weird scavenger hunt game with thier kid and he doesn't want me invited because he thinks he'd get less chocolates. That's a real world scenario that has happened more than once, by the way.

I turn off the classroom lights. It's a nice night, not too cold out. I'll take the long way through the grounds to my car. I'm not going home for any real reason and I'm still melancholy. I could use the quiet.

"Excuse me."

I stop, surprised because I didn't notice anyone. A girl is working at a bench. She has several books and notebooks laid out. She looks my age I suppose, with grey-ish skin and small brown eyes. Her hair is braided nicely and she's wearing a surprisingly thin dress for the winter weather. There's no make up on her pot-marked face, and her brow is furrowed with concern.

"Do you know where the library is?" she asks.

"Yes, it's back that way, I'm afraid it'll be closed by now, it's the Christmas Holiday," I say, gesturing in the appropriate direction.