Psyche

Chapter Nine

I fell asleep to music, praying it would quiet and calm my head before this temporary death. But, of course, my mind was plagued with his face. I recalled the day's events...

I missed the bus and both of my parents had left for work. I figured I'd run. I started off sprinting down my suburban neighborhood where every family feuds with each other. I had never seen such a warzone-like street. I soon slowed down to a jog. I came up to the restaurant street: a street where every single business is, well, a restaurant (usually fast-food). The first building sold soft-serve. I preferred the hard stuff. Then those establishments that I have honestly never seen under construction, the kind that just shows up out of thin air.

Then I glanced over to see what I thought was another one of those damned nightmares. But nope, it was real. It was him. He stood outside of some Mexican eatery, roughing up some older guy. I was pulled across the street by my own curiosity. He yanked the guy onto the sidewalk where I ran into him. 

Well, what can I say? He looked at me. His piercing stare burned through the sunglasses he always seemed to wear. Yet the dreaminess prevailed over the anger. Still, I walked away.

I eventually found myself at my locker just at the warning bell. Thank God I wasn't late-yet. I nearly ran down the hall, up the stairs, past my friends, past the track coach, and through the obstacle course of students who did not value being on time as much as I did. I may act like a rebel, but I've only ever toed the line between rule-obeying and rule-breaker. I didn't like attracting attention to myself, so I usually keep my head down and follow the rules. No one's ever gotten killed for doing the correct thing . . . well, except Antigone.

Suddenly, the late bell brought glory to the nerds and death to the rebels of this forsaken school. I hustled my not-so punctual ass into fucking algebra. The teacher turned around and gave me a face like one gives their dog when they come into their trashed house.

Not that I'd know anything about that.

Just think about it: ripped up paper towels litter the tiled floor. The pantry is opened and crackers, bread, chips are everywhere. Drinks spilled everywhere as the animal surfs and slips and slides on the counters, searching for abandoned food. Hell, it even manages to turn on the faucet and plug the drain.

Who said animals weren't intelligent? They know how to piss me off . . .

Imagine you find your pet eating shit from the knocked over trash can.  And you are in so much shock that you can only stare in anger, your mouth unable to form words. Only a piercing look can be managed to cope with the situation. That was the kind of look my teacher shot me. If only I had those innocent eyes, could make those cries for forgiveness will lead you to forget anything happened . . . But I was not a dog... So I took a seat and made I sure participated enough to calm the teacher's madness. After class, as I was about to leave, she handed me a detention slip with a smirk on her face. I grinned back, like I didn't give a damn fuck about what she thought and about her stupid fucking rules and the fact that I had to walk home after this, and left.

How many times was this going to happen? Two detentions this month. Was I losing my edge or something? Well, spending the day mourning my freedom and grieving the dead body that will be left after my parents are through with me (Not that they plan on killing me, their monotonous lecture will most likely cause me to take my own life) kept my mind off of him... oh wait... not again.

And then, strange enough, the door swung opened and soft-serve, leather jacket, jeans, sunglasses, lies, and a . . . demon-like . . . mind entered. Just what I needed, I cursed to myself. I didn't bother paying attention to the conversation between him and the teacher (Nicholas Grace this is unacceptable . . . you think this is a joke Nick? . . . Get in your seat right now young man . . .). He did take his seat in the back, satisfied with his hassling, leaving three delinquents between us. 

We made awkward eye contact a couple of times. Each time we did, I flushed even darker than the time before, and looked bad to the white board immediately. I knew he was rolling his eyes. I felt his cold stare and I rolled my gray eyes, my eye sockets shivering in the imaginary cold.

The bell finally rang and I watched him as he shot out of the classroom like I would at the starting line of a track in a meet. I stood under the overhang of the school's roof where my eyes were immediately drawn to the back of his head a couple hundred yards away. Rubbing my cold palms against my jeans, I followed him onto the turf, mowed religiously by the groundskeeper. He crossed over a strip of woodchips, spilling some onto the clean, off-white pavement as he hurried casually to the parking lot. What an ass . . .

He kept looking from side to side to make sure no one was staring. I had to dive to the ground behind the nearest cover, no matter how stinky or gross . . . doesn't anyone empty the trash cans?

Finally, he began an impossible job-a job he could never finish. I almost laughed, he thought he could outrun me. Smirking, I crept closer, letting him get a bit ahead so he wouldn't catch sight of me. I had the feeling he was more alert than normal people.

I should have listened to my gut.

If I had known he wanted me to follow him . . . I would still have gone into that forest. I never understood Nick's obsession with destiny until I looked back on that day. I was destined to step into that forest. Maybe he even knew it. He could have. He'd seen me run-he knew I could keep up and that I was curious enough to want to follow. But right then, I didn't have a clue what was waiting for me.

I broke into a full-on sprint in less than three seconds, and entered the forest with him.