Just Drive [old version]

[ chapter nineteen ]

Eep! I'm sorry for the wait D: This chapter was really awkward for me to write, but I hope you guys enjoy c:

Chapter Nineteen

            The last time I ran this much, this fast, this early was during my two-day stint at running camp the summer before my sophomore year. It was awful. That, of course, did not deter me from running at a breakneck speed to the local library at eight in the morning. A few of the early birds took the time to crane their neck away from their coffee cups to stare at me, but I guess I’m not as interesting as coffee.

            My lungs burned from the insane pace, but at this point, I could care less. For once, I’m not focusing on the freakish pain of distance running. Confusion, as it is, is far more powerful than physical pain, especially when you’re a tunnel-visioned freak like me.

            I shake my head out, loosening my frazzled curls. Austin would never put himself in this situation. Even this morning as I was tiptoeing out, he had a small, peaceful smile on his face. If he was as disoriented as I am, he certainly didn’t show it, not that he’s used to showing his emotions. Even when we were friends, it was hard to understand who he was.

            “Not helpful,” I mumble to myself. I’m not sure where I picked that tip up, but lately, I’ve been telling myself that more and more often. It works fairly well when I start to over-think.

            The library doors were still closed by the time I got there. I almost immediately drop at the knees and plop myself down on a concrete step. Leaning against the back step, I close my eyes and let my lungs fill with the air they desperately craved. “I hate running,” I mumble to myself. And all that effort wasn’t even necessary. To some degree, this pisses me off.

            After about ten minutes, a librarian pulls up in a rusty blue Chevy. I figured since she was only going about two miles per hour, it wouldn’t be unreasonable to follow her in. As she gets out of the car, she gives me a long, pointed glare. “What do you want?” she asks in a nasally voice. The corners of her wrinkly mouth are turned down in a very obvious frown.

            “I need a computer,” I reply breathlessly.

            She looks at me dubiously from behind her thick, horn-rimmed glasses. “Do you hold a library card here?” she sneers.

            I shake my head.

            Grumbling, she turns around, locks her car, and hobbles towards the door. She hunches over and drags her purse along the ground as she walks. Part of me wants to push her along, but I don’t think she’d appreciate it.

            After what seems like forever, we get to the desk and she hands me a scrap piece of yellow legal pad paper. “Take that one over there,” she instructs, pointing to the nearest computer. “Here’s the password for a thirty minute session.”

            I nod my head. “Thank you.”

            She doesn’t respond, but as I start walking away, I hear her mumble something about “those damned rascals.” I bite the inside of cheek hard to prevent myself from lashing out.

            A few quick keystrokes later, I log into my email and nearly squeal with glee when I saw an email from Jason already waiting for me.

            Test. Test. 

            To say I’m disappointed would be a gross understatement. I was expecting a nice, warm email. Instead, I got a test email. Nonetheless, I’m glad I don’t have to start the conversation. Cracking my neck, I flick my fingers and start typing up a reply.