The Clockwise Spell

Chapter 4

I don’t know if you know this, but it turns out that it’s impossible to die of humiliation. Science should seriously work on some scarring-memory-erasing. I barely made it to last period alive.

By then I had managed to spill juice on myself (brand new perfume halfway through the day! Named Apple Juice. I’m sure all the celebrities are just dying to get their hands on it) and trip in the middle of the hallway. I asked one question during math class and everyone turned around to look at me as if saying, “How could you not know that?” They even did the whole raised eyebrow thing!

Then, of course, I had cross-country tryouts. The track was easy enough to find (there was only one huge circle of dirt behind the school). The changing rooms on the other hand… well let’s just say it took thee staircases, four dead ends, and seven hallways to find it. So I got to be late to track – like every other thing today (except for Chem, of course).

Coach Ray, the track coach, glared at me when I finally stumbled upon the field. I was getting used to everyone glaring at me at this point though, so it didn’t have much of an impact. Becoming numb to people glaring at you probably wasn’t as much of an accomplishment as I’d like to think, however. Dad probably wouldn’t like it if I told him that was the greatest part of my day.

I made it just as everyone was lining up, so I didn’t even get a change to warm-up properly. Not that Coach Ray was all like, “Well maybe you should warm up so you don’t pull a muscle!”. No. He probably thought I was one of those slacker people who couldn’t run to save their lives and I didn’t even need the warm up because I would be running at a warm up pace anyways.

I was not a slacker when it came to running!

Anger filled me as I started to run. I was sick of this school. I hated lying to Rosie – even if she didn’t buy it – about how much I just loved Salem when, really, I had a total of two friends and one weird-not-really-a-friend friend. Dustin barely counted. I talked to him for a total of probably six seconds, while the rest of the walk to chem was awkward silence. Only when we were about to find the classroom did we actually start to talk again, and then we had to be silent because of class. Ms. Green didn’t even put us in a pair together.

I missed knowing everyone in town. I missed watching the new people to see what they would do wrong, instead of actually being that person.  I hated my dad’s job for moving us here. I was completely, one hundred percent, homesick.  

Anger fueled my run, making me go faster and faster and faster. My breath was ragged and short by the end. Once I stopped, Coach Ray slapped me on the back. Great. He chooses now to become ever so supportive and helpful? “Good job, Bryan!” he said, showing me the stopwatch. “A mile in just over four minutes! Well done!”

I stared hard at the watch, confused. I’m fast, but not that fast. That stopwatch had to be wrong. The protest was on the tip of my tongue, ready to be said, but Coach Ray had already walked away leaving me befuddled on the track. I twisted my ring, trying to make sense of the whole thing.

My ring is my second link to my mother. I remember watching her twist her ring whenever she felt nervous or curious – any strong emotion, really – and I guess somehow the habit got passed on.

I don’t know what type of stone was in the middle, but it was a light blue so light it was almost clear. Around the sphere-shaped stone was an inscription that I had tried for years to understand but still never could. It had a silver setting, which looked like vines that wrapped around my finger, and fit perfectly on the ring finger of my right hand.

Somehow I made the team – but just barely. I was the last person to make the team, on the account of missing practically half of the tryout, due to my amazing direction skills. I suppose it was my time that pushed me onto the team, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong with that time. Maybe the watch was broken?