Things We Never Speak Of

Encounters

"Important encounters are planned by the souls long before the bodies see each other" - Paulo Coelho

Had you been awake and randomly strolling along the streets of Abata at roughly half past two in the morning, you would've seen the slim silhouette of Asante Sivu crouched down, frantically scribbling streams of words into her ageing notebook. This leather-bound book contained pages upon pages of words that appeared meaningless to anyone other than the girl who put them there herself. What was little known to the world was that a strange phenomenon was taking place in between the pressed sheets of paper tattooed with ink.

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I saw her again in the school hallway.

I was late to school that day. Setting the alarm the previous night was the furthest thing from my mind. My body was screaming at me that night. Every muscle pleading, begging me to forget. They wanted to rest just as much as my mind did. So I gave in. I slipped up and yet I regret nothing. At least I thought I did, until the sun awoke and the heavy lead brick lay upon my chest once again.

Nothing happens by chance. Everything in the universe had conspired to make everything fall into place as it did that day. April 13th, last week's brutally long team practice and the previous night's fatigue. All of these. Individual threads weaved into the tapestry of time, tangled together to create this singular encounter. A ten minute shift in destiny charged with enough potential to transform the path I was on interminably.

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The hallway was crowded with teenage bodies.

Snatches of meaningless conversations floated around the humid air making it much heavier than it was supposed to be. People walking up and down fulfilling their own personal missions created disjointed waves that flowed languidly across the linoleum floor.

In a sea of movement, it is easy to spot a stationary object amongst the constant motion . In a sea of people, Asante's poised body stood conspicuously still, a few metres away from the blue standard locker 103, His locker. The weight of the words that clung onto the air held no burden upon Asante's shoulders. None of what was being said mattered to her. There were more pressing matters at hand.

The owner of locker 103 had information that had enough power to alter Asante's image of herself completely. A few short sentences from him could put to rest the never ending internal argument hosted within the confines of Asante's head once and for all. She was willing to go to great lengths to silence the doubts she had over her sanity which is why she was stood at that exact spot, at 8:30 am on a Monday morning, waiting for a boy who was increasingly becoming the single most important person in Asante's life, who possesses the knowledge of a strange occurrence which plagued Asante frequently since her childhood years. 

She had never spoken a word to the boy. He was a popular guy and nearly everyone adored him, those who didn't secretly wanted to be him. She was popular too but somehow, their paths had never crossed before. Despite being in the same Cultural history class, the same high school, the same neighbourhood where no one was a stranger but that is exactly what he had been to her. A complete stranger. But that had all changed now.

Everyone knew who Caio Medina was. Captain of the Cabo Saudades swimming team, Captain of the Cabo Saudades Rugby team, a Model United Nation's Under-Secretary General and all round golden boy. His high school rise to fame came instantly and effortlessly. This is how he was perceived, as a dazzling shooting star streaking right across the darkened backdrop of everyone's lives. But everyone forgets that stars do lose their brightness once the sun lights up the sky and just like a star, Caio did not excel as everyone thought he did. He was merely a short shimmer of light that came before the dawn.