Will & Indie

17.

William Whitlock is unable to come to the phone at this time due to unforeseen circumstances.

Don't bother leaving a message.

It took everything in Will's power to get out of bed and go to school.

He didn't bother looking in the mirror. He knew his eyes were puffy and red from crying the night before. He knew that his mouth was stuck in a crescent moon frown that refused to be altered. He also knew that he had misplaced his glasses and was forced to declare war against the contacts he only used in desperate situations such as this.

Alice knew what had happened right when Will walked in the door the previous evening. Rivers had formed where his tears had fallen on his drive home. He was desperately clinging onto the marigolds that had suffocated in his palm. Alice took it upon herself to give him a silent yet understanding embrace—something that was somewhat out of the norm in their sibling dynamic, unless it was orchestrated by their mother or born out of silliness.

The drive to school was silent and gray. The sky seemed to be grieving alongside the separated young lovers as it released its floodgates.

After arriving at school, Alice set a gentle hand on Will's shoulder. He glanced at her.

"Hey," Alice began, "you don't have to do this, you know." She urged, giving him a sympathetic look. "You can go home, right now. Mom can pick me up after school lets out."
   
Will simply shook his head, turning off the car. He glanced down at his umbrella, briefly thinking about grabbing it, but he decided against it. "'When God closes a door, another one opens.'"

Will grabbed his things and shut the door behind him.

Alice watched him walk away, her heart sinking down like the sun behind a mountain.

Unfortunately for Will, he'd forgotten all about the looming presentation he'd have to partake in until it was too late.

As Will entered Creative Writing, his spirits sank lower than a casket buried six feet under. Mrs. Boho had her popsicle sticks at the ready, each of them displaying a student's name in bold, black Sharpie.

Will had to escape; he imagined himself jumping out the window next to his seat or hiding out in the boys' bathroom until the end of class, among other things. Despite already knowing that he didn't have a backup poem prepared, Will desperately rifled through his pocket notebook, trying to find any poem that wasn't soul-crushingly embarrassing that also magically happened to be the correct length.

Shockingly, he found none that fit those very specific requirements.

He only hoped Mrs. Boho may not even pull his name today; that they'd have to extend the presentations to Monday, and Will could piece together a new poem over the weekend that wouldn't be as heartbreaking to read. The only thing he imagined was more embarrassing than sharing his work was breaking down in front of his peers.

Luckily, Will was able to relax for a moment as he watched some of his other classmates get chosen before him. He was unable to focus on the poems being presented as he continued trying to find a replacement poem. He couldn't admit defeat.

But he'd be forced to shortly.

Will's classmates began snapping after another student finished presenting their poem. Will snapped out of his trance, joining them just before it died down to nothing.

"Thank you, Ophelia. I could perfectly envision the autumn day you described." Mrs. Boho smiled.

"Thanks, Mrs. Boho." Ophelia replied as she made her way back to her seat.