Follow the Signs

Chapter Three - Matt Morin

All eyes were still on his best friend, her unconscious body, lying there, unmoving. Matt wanted to run towards her, hold her in his arms, to scream at her to wake up, he wanted to shake her and tell her to stop joking. But what he wanted most was to see her open her eyes, he wanted her to talk to him. But his legs didn't want to move, they felt like stone, they wouldn't cooperate, it's like they were solidified to the ground, but at the same time they felt jelly, it felt like his legs were about to give way. He watched as the paramedics showed up and lifted up Dylan and the already sleeping female into the ambulance with stretchers. The sirens of the police car, the ambulance, and the firetruck, belching out its ear wrenching screeches, while red, white, and blue lights were flashing everywhere. Fire fighters focused on forcing the fire down with gallons of water from the fire hydrant that was nearby, the ambulance focused on the few injured people, while the police were occupied questioning the teachers and the staff several questions. The other students were just standing back, watching every detailed action from the safe haven of the football field, every moment flashed right before their eyes, none of them did anything to help whatsoever.

And there went down Matt, his knees finally buckled, flattening his palms onto the grass as he fell onto his knees, his eyes, still tainted with shock and despair. "This has to be a damn dream," he told himself, over and over multiple times, sweating profusely, blinking rapidly, his glasses started to fog from the sweat dripping down his cheekbones down to his chiseled jawline and the tears welling up in his eyes, about to spew out and mix with his perspiration. Matt went from slapping his face to pinching his arm to scratching his wrist, anything to inflict pain, as long as it would wake him up from this nightmare. He took off his glasses and started wiping it with his thin grey shirt, both sides of each lens and put them back on, he wanted to make sure none of this was an illusion, that all of this wasn't some sort of sick prank, some stupid hallucination, some sort of fucked up drug trip. But all of this was too real, too out there to be fake.

Matt was no longer on cloud nine, he was now on cloud 666, and he wanted to escape this hell asap.

The main question bouncing through the walls of his mind was "How did this happen?" The last thing he remembered was texting Dylan in math class about tiny cacti with cowboy hats riding camels with cowboy boots. "How did it go from that to Dylan possibly dying?", his mind went on and on, soon that one question evolved into two, and those produced more thoughts themselves, and not long after that, his head was filled with more questions that were left unanswered.

"Matt," someone's muffled voice had called, the voice sounded faint, it was as if he was underwater. Bit by bit he started finding it harder to inhale fresh air, as if he was actually underwater, as if all the oxygen had disappeared, the vicious sharp inhales and exhales. Matt tried to breathe, violent gasps for air, and that same exact voice called his name again, but this time only louder. "Matt!", the voice screamed, louder than ever, as he felt a sharp tinge on the back of his neck. "Ow!", he blurted in reaction to the painful stinging in the area he has just been hit. "Matt, what the hell are you doing?", someone asked, their voice, finally loud and as clear as day,"I'm farting you idiot, and unless you want to eat it, leave me alone!", he fumed, staring deep into the eyes of his close male friend, James. Matt squinted his eyes at James and his white blond hair that reflected the sun's beams without heating up. James was glaring back with a look in his eyes that others would think is hatred, but what they don't know is the story of these two boys. They both squinted harder. James was making it almost impossible to notice the blue hue on those glittering orbs of his, at this point, all you could notice was the ebony tints of his pupils.

Silence, so thick you could cut with a pair of scissors.

Then loud laughter had erupted like magma and ash out of a volcano, slowly, yet surely filling the air, humor everywhere. The air around them had started to lighten, along with the mood. As this continued, Matt had momentarily forgotten about everything around him, every bad aura, every negative comment, every hellish thought. Every molecule, every word, all of it, had slowed down, even if time seemed to fly by, nothing seemed to change. James had slowly pressed the palm of his somewhat sweaty hand down onto Matt's shoulders. His hand was shaking violently, but he was trying so hard to pretended that he wasn't so much as vexed by the situation. He wanted to be strong, to act like he was okay so that he could comfort Matt, just because he knows that it'd be the same vice versa, even if Dylan was in one of their positions. "Listen, I know it's difficult on you, but your girlfriend will be alright, for the 14 out of the 16 ish years we've all known each other, Dylan was always independent and strong," James gave a nervous smile, flashing his pearly whites as he tugged on Matt's muscular arm, hoisting him onto his feet.

"First, I will gladly assure you she's not my girlfriend, she's gorgeous, yeah, but she's like my little sister, and secondly, I just can't shake the feeling that another bad thing might happen to us, I don't know why I feel this, it's just this feeling is very unsettling," Matt sighed, sucking on his bottom lip while ruffling his dirty blond hair. James stood to the side, putting all his weight on his left foot as he crossed his arms,"A younger sister that steals your clothing, eats your food, sleeps in the same bed with you, and you casually kiss her forehead?" James said suspiciously, moments past and both began laughing hysterically once again. James started patting Matt's back over and over again in amusement. "Yeah, there are younger sisters who do that" he chuckled, punching James's arm. And there it was, the same time stopping atmosphere that always filled the air when him, James and Dylan hung out.