Ryder

Chapter 17

I didn't fall asleep that night.

I stayed awake mostly because my brain wouldn't shut up.  I do that a lot:  I think too much and too hard.  Give me any topic, and I'd find a way to twist it around and make it my new obsession.  For example, Schrodinger's cat.  I took the complex theory, and wrapped my brain around it in any way that I could.  I became obsessed with interpretations of quantum mechanisms, and wouldn't stop talking about it for weeks.  And that was just one example--there are an infinite number of others.  

The thought that my head couldn't shut up about was the anomaly that was Ryder.  I put it into chronological order--somewhere in there, I would find a logical reason for me disliking her.  I sort of knew why I was mad at her, but it was best to figure it out completely and whole-heartedly.  I took a deep breath, and let my head work its magic.

1.) I found Ryder.

3.) She explained herself.

7.) She saw me have mental breakdowns.

5.) I got made fun of because of her abnormalties.

24.) I became a jerk to her.

17.) She ran away.

The reason the numbers don't make sense is because my thoughts didn't make sense.  Nothing did.  It was a big, jumbled-up mess. 

Regardless, I pulled off my pajamas, shimmied into an old pair of jeans, and buttoned up a crisp white shirt.  I blinked a few times, and I don't really know why.  People usually blink when they need to clear their heads, I guess, and who am I to go against the status quo?

My feet felt cold against the hard wood floor in my bedroom, so I doubled back to the dresser and pulled on some socks.  I took a long time putting them on with great care, which was really unusual for me, seeing as I can barely find socks that match half the time.  I guess I just wanted to procrastinate seeing Ryder, and going to school.  This was my typical morning self, but a rather exaggerated version.

Taking a deep breath, I walked out of my bedroom and into the landing upstairs.  I leaned my body halfway over the white wooden edge, peering around to find Ryder.  I couldn't see her--she was probably at the kitchen table, which was just out of my sight.  I walked down the stairs, making odd thumps as I walked along.  Then, stalling, I realized I left my phone upstairs.  I don't know why my parents bought me a cell phone in sixth grade, because I had no friends back then.  And I didn't for three more years.  But I kept the device, and I was glad I did, because Michael texted me a lot now.  We were good friends for sure, now.  All in the past was forgotten.  Just like that.  As quick as the thumps that now accompanied me down the stairs as I went.  

When I landed on the floor, I slid my socks across it, over to the kitchen.  I liked that about our open floor plan:  I could slide around all I wanted.  It was a great use of time when I was home alone, and when I was sick.  But anyways, I slid over to the kitchen, ready to apologize to Ryder about everything that happened.  The only problem was that she wasn't there.

I checked the clock on the oven stove--7:02 a.m.  School started at 7:45--or, at least, that's when we were allowed into the school.  Actual classes started at 8:00.  In 58 minutes.  Ryder had gone to my school long enough to know that.  And besides, she also could figure out that the walk to school was only like 10 minutes. 

My parents were gone.  They leave for work at 6:00 a.m. every day, except weekends.  I even heard them get up this morning.  They were frantically whispering about something.  And....low and behold, it was me.  I didn't hear everything they said.  But I heard words like "Ryan", "upset", "vomit", and "Ryder".  Joy, oh joy.  They thought that Ryder was bringing back the old habits.

But she wasn't!  Sometimes, I just have very pubertational moments.  I have mood swings.  Yes, mine are worse than most.  But it's normal, I swear.  It wasn't Ryder.  I needed to find her and apologize.  Really, really badly. 

I was alone in the house.  In the morning, they take Sarah up to Nana's, like they used to do with me until I could be home alone.  Which I was.  And even though I was already used to it, I felt so oddly alone.  

Where was she?  God, I was beginning to freak out.  This shouldn't be happening, this shouldn't be happening, no, no, no.  This was bad.  I paced back and forth, over and over the same boring stretch of wood.  I blinked too much.  She was gone, and I was to blame, and it was all my fault.  I didn't know where she was.  She could be dead, or hurt, and she's alone, and who knows what could be happening?

My mind was throbbing, pulsating with dangerous speed and force.  I felt lumps collect in my throat, and my stomach was dropping rapidly, the weight of a rock.  She was gone, and I did it to her.  I hurt Ryder, and now, because of my own stupidity, I lost her.