Timeless

Chapter Three

Chapter Three

            Even though the majority of the night sky is dark, the stars still found a way to plop themselves right in so that there’s a sparkle here and there. That was something I’ve been doing a lot lately: studying the sky. Maybe I’ll be an astronomer when I got older. We have this really awesome trampoline in our backyard, positioned exactly so you could crop out the rest of the world and just see the sky. My sister begged and begged for it for her seventh birthday, and lo and behold, she got it.

            For her fourteenth birthday.

            And by that time, the only excitement she could muster was a terrible fake-surprised look and a rusty, “Oh gosh! Thanks!” This was pretty sad to watch compared to how much energy and glow she had back when she was seven and actually wanted it; she used to be such a happy, enthusiastic child. But somewhere along the way, she kinda got scared and had to hide away in the crevices of her mind for comfort. Anyway, I think she’s jumped on the trampoline twice in her whole lifetime. But it’s okay because I use it a lot. I sometimes sleep on it at night and look at the sky. The sky is pretty at night. Like a big, blue-black vomit mess with white chunks that looked like spitballs splattered all over it. Yeah, vomit sky. With white glittery dots.

***

            I found out that the weird girl from my computers class actually lives down and across the street from me. I saw her when I was riding my bike. She looked like she was trying to set fire to an ant colony. I didn’t wait around to see what happened. I didn’t really know where I was going, (I never do) but I’d figure it out on my way. Living in Colorado, I had a good sense of where all the best naturey places were. Naturey places are the best places to think. To muse. Musing is just the physical form of thinking; it’s when you place your thoughts on paper. Usually. I don’t have much paper, so my musing is always extremely miniscule and hard to understand. Whatever, I guess. I’ve never let anyone really interpret my musing, and I doubt I ever will.

            I parked my bike along a rushing river. There’s a lake it leads to called Crystal Lake. My family and I joke that it’s our “hidden sanctuary” because we randomly found it one Easter while out driving. My mom has no sense of direction, but she says as long as she can locate the mountains then she knows where she is since the mountains are always in the West. Whenever we go out for a drive without a declared destination, my mom always claims that she’s exploring because she’ll never admit that she’s lost. I think it’s okay to be lost—whether it’s in your mind or a place or a person or another world—being lost means you have better things to do than be where you want to be. And that’s always better than knowing where you are.

            That day had been really fun; we acted like six-year-olds on Christmas morning in the car. Singing to the crazy, upbeat songs on the radio, laughing at my mom’s driving abilities, and just looking out for someplace new to discover. That had been a nice Easter, nicer than any other in fact. My family’s a little...distant, and sometimes my parents aren’t the parents you’d really expect or want them to be at times. But...that Easter was nice. Just driving in a lost way. And bingo! We found Crystal Lake. There’s a river like a boy’s running piss that travels by the lake and away into reassuring, perpetual forest area, unguarded and auspicious. That’s where I hang out all the time.

            I took off my shoes and socks and dangled my feet in the freezing, clear water. It felt relaxing and I leaned my head back in contentment. A week into school and it had been nothing like the movies lately. Or even the books. Aside from the clichéd make-out sessions, there was no real drama or scenes always being caused, scarcely any bullying that was visible to me, and the work isn’t really that hard as long as you’re organized. Which I kind of am. But that’s all probably because as far as my popularity goes, well...I’m not popular. I’m not up there at the top of the middle school chain, so I’m never caught up in any of that drama shit...this means I have time to be more organized than most. (More organized is not the same as actually being organized. I’m not kidding, there’s probably a squirrel corpse somewhere in my locker already.)