Walk Through Thorns

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

As the sun crested the forest, I hopped on my bike and swerved out of the driveway. The aluminum frame was painted red. The handlebars still firm. I had found it in the garden shed, forgotten under old folding chairs. Auntie had helped me get it fixed up over a weekend. It had been her's in the long-ago, but now it was my favorite way to explore at night.

The cursed sun was cresting over the leaf-filled canopy. Old Creighton Road was without traffic. There were a few houses, built in the peaked victorian style. Paint was peeling off the wood facades. The driveways were more likely to hold a pickup truck than a sedan. Slim signs of life proved the inhabitants were around somewhere. Things like the garbage left out for pick up, and the mail box flags being put down by someone you rarely saw. And, only a brief shadow of a person who nodded politely, but sought no conversation. I fit right in.

Fog was retreating from the road as the light spread its warmth. Mists seemed to linger in the ditches at the road edge, like it was waiting for me to get close enough to snatch me. The old-growth trees were gnarled, their roots intermingled with poison ivy.

There wasn't any pavement until I got to Sixth Avenue. Then, my bicycle hummed. Snowplows had torn up hunks of road that I had to maneuver around, or I'd eat asphalt for breakfast. Even now, coming on summer, the town still hadn't repaved it. That was nothing new to me, the big city had pockmark roads too.

Sixth brought me past the golf course, into Lively on the north end. This barely felt like a real place compared to the sprawling skyscrapers of Toronto. I'd figured out the whole layout in a few days of twilight rides, and I swear it couldn't have been bigger than a city block.

In town proper, everyone knew everyone. You could've fit the whole population into one highrise. They recognized me and waved as I passed. Most townsfolk knew me as the girl with the big hat that kept the sun off her. Or, as the girl who wore sunglasses as she rode around at dusk.

I think only the grocery store owner knew me by name. Auntie had brought me through the supermarket but I didn't really pay attention when she made small talk. People waved, I waved back, but my heart wasn't in it. This wasn't my home, I was just here for a while. Like a visitor or a vagabond. Soon enough I'd be gone, and they'd forgot about the pale girl they only saw at dusk.

Lively Secondary School was gathering teenagers like a mother hen gathering her chicks. They poured in from the streets and the busses. It was one of the biggest buildings in the town, but still modest by what I was used to. I didn't mind that though. It meant I found the principal's office without walking a marathon length.

The Principal put on a threadbare suit jacket from behind his door and marched me to my homeroom. The class stared at me like a sideshow exhibit. I hated that expression. I hated the cruelty lurking behind snide smiles.

The Principal said, " I am excited to introduce your new classmate."

A scowling girl at a front desk said, "Is she the reason why all the tests are on Fridays now?"

The Principal put his arm around my shoulder. There was nowhere for me to hide. He said, "Celeste is going to be only attending once a week, so we need to accommodate her."

A calamity of complaints erupted from the class. I stood silent, waiting for it to pass. If I had died in that moment I would have welcomed it.

The homeroom teacher, Mr. Feral, smacked his hand on his desk. "Quiet!" He was a portly man with a thick beard and a head like a smooth boulder.

The Principal said, "Some of you like to start your weekends early. Let this be an encouragement to attend all week with equal vigor." The principal smiled, impressed by his own wit. He was oblivious to the fact that he just made me public enemy number one.