Transversals

IV. Uninvited

The rest of the day had gone by so normally after that, almost violently normally if the word could be used as a superlative to "extreme". The world turned. The wind blew. I drove a car to school. Will read a book all during German first period, like I hadn't just seen a winged version of him in some tripped-up alternate world. And an ice monster. Ha, almost forgot that variable.

See, it felt like one of those intangible memories you can't quite distinguish as real or not, as a dream or reality. You remember it too vividly for it to be a dream, but with not enough dogmatism to be a memory. Somewhere in the limbo of that realm is where the whole occurrence seemed to linger, floating like an amoeba in the viscous liquid of life.

Oh, I tried to ask myself what I would rather believe. I thought I'd choose dream and convince myself easily, but then there was that part of me that kept yelling, "It was real, you idiot!" from a corner of the room, undeniably telling the truth. And prospects of this new information arose from the ashes I had made in attempting to burn the recollection to the ground. I fell through a mirror and met an alternate me, and her three/four friends. Who all had wings. And the one threatened to kill me. Wouldn't that make national news.

"Harley Lee!" Will forcefully stated, punching my shoulder.

I snapped out of the trance I was in and looked to him, scowling. "What?"

"You've been staring off into nothing for five minutes now and haven't touched your food," he coaxed with a nod to my lunch tray. I picked up the milk and sipped as he took a bite of pizza, examining me with cozy brown eyes. "It's like you've just arisen from an underground fallout shelter."

"Enough, enough with the analogies," I complained, waving him off and breaking the trance those suckers of eyes put me in.

"Metaphors, Harley. Arguably similes."

"Nerd English stuff. I got it." Putting the milk down, I took a bite of the sour apple to wake myself up, but my gaze still glazed over on a point just past Will's shoulder. I was staring at something in the courtyard, I just wasn't sure what.

Will stopped eating and subtly flagged my attention once more, silently. Head cocked to the side while staring questionably at me, sweater sleeves pushed up to the elbow and trademark light blond hair swept aside with a touch of gel, his distraction-free and good natured personality showed through without a word. The gaze held nothing but intrigue, but guilt was spiked into my system nonetheless.

Sighing and dropping my head, I said, "Sorry."

Will chuckled and went back to his lunch. "Something's definitely up now. The Harley I know wouldn't apologize."

"And the Will I know wouldn't be so persistent," I responded naturally, finishing the apple off down to the core and picking up my sandwich, although I still didn't have too much of an appetite.

"I just watched Kill Bill last night," he replied. "It's Post-Film Personality Syndrome. I've adopted O-Ren Ishii for a day."

I smiled a little and took a bite. The typical banter was comforting from the existentialist train of thought I was starting to develop.

His hand pulled my lunch tray away from me and loudly clanked it against his, grabbing my attention yet again and the attention of the few others that sat around us in the lunchroom. I looked up at him. He stared back dumbstruck for a brief moment, then pushed my tray back toward me with a huff. He leaned back and crossed his arms, looking away. "No comment. Unbelievable."

I couldn't help laughing a little, because Will was never mad and was never very good at faking mad. "What, did I miss another nerd reference in there? Metaphors? Dialogue? Foreshadowing?"