Time Runs Out

pt. 3

I get home from school and drop my backpack on the ground. My dad yells from his permanent spot on the couch, asking me how my day was.

I peek around the corner, forever scared that I will look at his clock and see his time lower than it should be.

I breathe a sigh of relief when I see that his clock still has 23 years left.

Though I do know that the time one has left can change in an instant.

I think back to what happened with Casey.

••••

It was fourth grade, we were playing on the playground, as all fourth graders do. She climbed up to the top of the spider web, yelled down to me- I was still determining if the structure was safe enough.

Spoiler alert- it wasn't.

She yelled at me, telling me to come up, then, as if in slow motion, yelling something about being on top of the world. I saw her release her arms and hold them to he sky, her long, blonde hair flowing in the wind. Then, plummeting to the ground.

I saw her face as she lost her footing.

I saw her scream as she hit rope after rope, down the spider web.

I saw her lay on the ground, passed out and bruising already.

Worst of all, I saw her clock pause, shudder, and start counting down 100 times faster than it had been.

As kids surrounded her, fearful and talking, and teachers, calling 911, I watched as my best friends clock, originally telling us that she would die at 93, rapidly tick down.

Then it stopped.

I blinked through my tears as I looked at Casey's clock.

5 hours, 27 minutes, and 46 seconds.

Casey never woke back up.

I never got to say goodbye.

We learned later, exactly 5 hours, 27 minutes and 46 seconds later, that she died due to a massive concussion, and a broken spine, 4 broken ribs, and a fractured leg.

That was the day we all learned that our clocks are not perfect, that if you do something truly devastating to your body, your time will change.

Sometimes, it takes an hour off. Other times, a couple of years.

And other times, it takes 83 years, and the rest of your life.

Within 3 weeks, the school committee put rubber chips under the structure that Casey died falling off of. For some reason, this idea did not strike the engineers building the structure to begin with.

Only when a 3rd grader fell from the middle and lost 7 years of her life 3 years later did they finally take it down, rubber chips and all.

Now the kids play soccer in the empty space, alongside a little stone, reading Casey's name.

••••

"It was fine."

I breathe a sigh of relief at my dad's remaining life span, and grab a banana from the counter. I yell at him that I'm going upstairs, and at his nod, I grab my backpack, and rush upstairs.

I had homework to do, but I couldn't focus. More often than not, I did my physics homework with Keaton, but his parents took him out for his birthday dinner. I'm sure he must've been confused, since his birthday is on Tuesday, but with the attention span of that kid, I am sure that he forgot about his confusion the second they pulled into the parking lot of the restaurant.

I tap my pencil on the desk. It felt odd to begin homework without Keaton, but I knew I had to start getting used to it since it would eventually become the new normal.

15 minutes later, and I had simply read the question, too tired and emotional to attempt to work it out.

I push back my desk chair in frustration, and turn my head to the left to pop my neck, catching a glimpse of myself in the ikea mirror that mom insisted on getting for me, even though it was $200.00.

She was so spontaneous before she left us.

Seeing my mousy brown hair in the mirror reminds me of her, and reminds me to go brush it out so that I look less like she used to.

I want nothing to do with her.

In the bathroom, I grab my brush, and run it through my hair. Instinctively, I look above my head, wondering if today, for whatever reason, I could see my clock.

I see nothing.

At this point, i'm not even surprised.

So I drop my brush on the counter, and head  back into my room.

I open my banana, settle back into my chair, and stare down the physics question, determined to figure this one out.