Timeless

Chapter Eight

Chapter Eight

            I don’t say a word to London. I really want to. I need to talk to somebody. But I don’t. Instead, London invited me to ditch school with her to go to Turner Middle School to meet her friend, Emily. I never really expected that of her. Ditching. It doesn’t seem like a Londony thing to do, but I didn’t question it. Any chance to get out of school, I’ll take. I’m becoming more and more uncertain about Ms. Maddison. When we dissected cow eyeballs, she holds the knife really oddly.

            “You’d like Emily. She’s...um...not all there.” London sighed happily. I wondered what she meant by that. Maybe being ‘not all there’ is a required characteristic you needed to be London’s friend.

            Seems legit. Look at my family: Sanitation freaks. Abused sister. Loner son.

            Turner Middle School was a nice school, not too big or small and well-kept. When we walked in, the lady at the main office took one look at London, and her evil, decimating features softened, demurred, and she gestured lightly towards the cafeteria. Apparently London was well-known here.  

            London led me to the cafeteria where an abundant of middle school students talked, screamed and threw food at each other in preparation for World War IV. (Following my algebra’s class initiation of World War III, thank you.)  “This should be her lunch. She has last lunch.” London scanned the room before pointing to the far corner of the cafeteria where the doors were. All solitary and alone sat this nice-looking girl with straight ebony hair eating a popsicle. Standing in front of her table were some girls talking—no, making fun of her. There were four of them, and what appeared to be the leader had something in her hand, an iPod?

            “This your iPod, girl?” She taunted.

            What a stupid and pitiable attempt to enrage someone, I thought. The girl seemed unfazed.

            “What’s your favorite song on this thing, huh girl? God, look at her music. It’s horrible!” Some other names were muttered, names Ethan calls my sister. Mostly body parts, and I wanted to shoot these girls, too. The girl, I assumed, scrolled through the small music device, looking like she was gonna break it. The girl sitting snatched the iPod back and did something with it for a few minutes.

            “There!” She shouted with infinite glee, pointing at the screen. A song erupted from the iPod and, though not very loud because of the speakers the iPod was equipped with, everyone heard it and turned their heads. London stood beside me, not doing anything, just watching how this would turn out. I was concerned for the girl, but at the same time, she seemed perfectly happy and well-aware of what was going on.

            “When life leaves you high and dry, I’ll be at your door tonight if you need help, if you need help. I’ll shut down the city lights, I’ll lie, cheat, I’ll beg and bribe to make you well, to make you well...When enemies are at your door, I’ll carry you away for more if you need help, if you need help...” The group of girls stood dumb-struck, and the girl at the table had a complete daydreamy look on her. Her eyes glazed over like a foggy night and she swayed her shoulders to some invisible beat. Different emotions danced around on her face. I saw pretty cluelessness swim in her eyes and ignorance dwell in her innocent features.

            As the song reached its chorus, the girl started dancing to her own tune; a childish smile plastered on her face like someone just took a paintbrush and painted it on. Her fair hair laid low on the tops of her shoulders, and her eyes showered the black snow of a victorious clash. Like falling fire. I felt an immediate affinity to this girl.