The Life I'm Running From

17\ Snow Clouded Photographs

"The wheels on the bus go 'round and 'round, 'round and 'round, round and—"

                A sophomore with braces and a wonky haircut glared at us from above his bus seat. "Shut. Up."

                Harley raised his eyebrows. "Wow, rude. I thought my solo was American Idol worthy. What did you think McKinnley?"

                "Eh. It was a bit pitchy."

                He made a face at me. I grinned, leaning my head back against the seat. Three weeks since the whole Spider-Man band-breaking incident, I was feeling great. Though I checked occasionally, there was no recent news on the villain self-named 'Ravenyx'. For the first week I took to looking up Spider-Man to see if he had done anything new, but now I was over that. Did I really care that Spider-Man had stopped another thief, lifted another car, or returned a lost kitten? It was all superhero stuff that didn't concern me.

                The bus went over a bump and my elbow crashed into Harley's. We both groaned, rubbing where the bruises would appear.

                "I wish Mr. Bluffe would cut back on the History homework," I commented. Even though my backpack was closed, I could envision all the papers shoved inside.

                Harley stretched his arms out before flexing. "Ditto. My mom's even concerned about the amount of homework we're getting now. And she's always saying how school's too easy nowadays." He yawned. "What does your mom think?"

                "Wouldn't know. She lives a few states over."

                The bus screeched to a stop as someone darted into the middle of the road, and the bus driver started to loudly curse at them. Harley frowned. "Your parents are divorced?"

                I tapped my feet on the ground in a mini pattern. "Not exactly. I live with my cousin."

                "Oh. Cool." Harley leaned back, staring out the window. "Is it... hard?"

                Was it? "I... yeah. Sometimes, I just, I just feel like..." It was hard to find the words for what I was feeling. It was like sadness, but hollowness. I glanced at Harley. He was staring at his phone.

                Harley looked up after a moment, his brow furrowing. "Weren't you saying something?"

                I smiled, but it was half-hearted. What was the point in talking to yourself? "It doesn't matter."

★彡 ★彡 ★彡 ★彡

The last bell of the day rang and I left the classroom. The halls were busy with kids eager to get home, and I pushed my way through to my locker. After retrieving what I needed, I headed down the stairs. Harley joined me somewhere between the fourth and fifth floor.

                "Hey, I was wondering," Harley started, "do you want to hang out after school?"

                "Today?" I tilted my chin to look above the crowds, looking for someone. I wasn't short, but it seemed like this particular crowd involved everyone taller than me. Was this a school for tall people? Should I have taken a height exam to get in?

                Harley ran a hand through his hair. "Yeah, today. We could—"

                "I have plans." I smiled apologetically. "Maybe tomorrow?"

                Harley sighed. "Can't. I have basketball."

                "I thought you weren't trying out?"