The Last Lap

Chapter Nine

The dirty, vintage clock struck eight and the doors that lead to the main office of the school opened. I had about fifteen and a quarter minutes before my homeroom class. I had to find Coach Reynolds. He was the only one that I trusted enough to help me with writing. Also, it was Isaac's first period class. It was a win-win situation.

    As I passed through the crowd, people greeted me and asked me about my weekend. I kept my replies short and sweet. I didn't want to lose my time. I quickly shoved my stuff in my locker and carried my laptop, folders, and books with me.

    Eventually I was able to squeeze past the rowdy, hyper freshmen that filled every corner. It was like the town was gaining more kids and shoving them into one gigantic, racist hell hole. I saw Ricky walking with a girl around his age, his arm around her shoulder. If she wasn't there, he would notice me and annoy me but he was busy.

    "Hey Ricky, it's her," One of his friends pointed at me.

    "Oh hi, Ema." He waved at me. His friend seemed shy. It was cute.

    "That's cute Ricky. Is that your girlfriend?" I gestured over to her with my things. She hid behind him and looked at her other friends around her. He quickly came to her defense.

    "Do you want to fight now? Or at track practice?"

    "Maybe later kid, I gotta find Reynolds," I brushed my hand through his hair.

    "Oh, he's in his room. You know, with all the lights on at minimum power."

    "You know it's because he needs to use his neurons later for maximum effort. Perfect, thanks. See you later Ricky. Nice to meet you, girlfriend. I better see you on time at practice boys," I pointed to the crowd. I didn't turn my head fast enough to keep up with my legs and ended up bumping into someone. My things fell on the ground.

    "I'm so sorry," I sighed as I started to pick them up. I looked at the familiar torn up shoes and the feeling of excitement filled me. It was him.

    "Hey, don't worry about it Em. Why are you reading a court case? You don't take AP Government," He adjusted his pink beanie and grinned at me sweetly.

    "I'm working on this project. I really need to get to Mr. Reynolds before class starts," I started to speak fast. I checked my phone. There was only ten minutes left. Isaac nodded and lead me to his classroom.

    "So I started the research aspect of our art project. I found this one image-"

    "Isaac, why are you always talking about school with me?"

    He slowed down his steps and creased his brows, "What else should we talk about?"

    "I don't know. I just don't want to only talk about our project. Let's talk like we used to. Those weird, unusual philosophical ideas."

    He shrugged and I just shook my head in response. I couldn't force him to do anything he didn't want to do. We turned the corner and I entered Mr. Reynolds' classroom. It was beautifully decorated.

    On the door was a quote from Dostoyevsky, "To go wrong in one's own way is better than to go right in someone else's." Three of his walls were plastered with different quotes and different assignments from past students. The entire back wall had four bookshelves holding all the books for students to read for pleasure, even though the students barely put in the effort to read in their free time. Small fairy lights hung from the ceiling and slowly flickered on and off. It was darker than most classrooms but still, a sense of familiarity and comfort cleansed all of my worries from my mind.