Anonymous

One

They sat on the bench waiting. Just waiting. They were both in middle school, both in eighth grade, and both could not believe that they were here, at school, on a weekend. It wasn't like their parents worked at the school and had to come in. If it was that they could have just stayed home. The kids, that is, not the parents. No, they voluntarily came to school, on a weekend, with no idea the other one was going to be there.

One of them was a girl with hair seaming to...you know what, who cares? She had long brown hair. The other was a boy and he has short blondish/brown hair. Yeah that works. He was tall and she came up to his shoulder. And no one cares about how their eyes seemed to shimmer in the moonlight, I know I don't.

Oh, yeah, you need to know how they ended up there. So basically, he was spray painting the concrete base of the wall to look like some painter's night starry picture whatever and she saw him, thought he was just tagging it, and tried to run him off. It worked and he tried to jump the fence leading up to the train track, but he fell, less than glamorously I might add, and ended hanging upside down on a waist-high fence. She recognised him and helped him up. Anyway, now they sit awkwardly.
   
"So," she said, trying to make small talk, "What brings you to the school this fine Saturday evening?"
   
Seriously, that's how you are going to start this off? I don't know why I bothered to sign up for this.

"I didn't want to be anywhere, so I just started walking and ended up here."
   
"And you always have a couple cans of spray paint with you?"
   
"No. I had them in the shed around back. No one ever goes in there."
   
"What about Mr. Bir?"
   
"He lets me keep them. He says it's a form of art which should be appreciated more."
   
"He's a cool dude."
   
"Yeah."
   
They stop talking. Please tell me this isn't turning into a romance.
   
"What are you doing here?" he asked her.
   
She doesn't say anything and tugs at her sleeves.
   
"Just going for a walk," she says.
   
"Wait, you live in the neighborhood?"
   
"Which one? There are, like, five you can get to without crossing any major roads."
   
"The one to the right of the retirement home."
   
Who has a retirement home that close to a school? You can't even see the tiny children playing on the playground from that place. What's the point?
   
"No, I live closer to the bank."
   
Seriously, what is this neighborhood?
   
"Pricey bank community girl."

"Yeah, the apartments cost ten dollars more per month than the ones by the retirement home. Real pricey."
   
"And how would you know how much it costs?"
   
"Because there is this magical thing called the internet."
   
"Fair enough," he said laughing. Wow, she finally got him to laugh. I thought he was just carved out of stone though he did seem like a rather excited piece of stone. Aannnnd now they have stopped talking again.
   
"I should probably be heading home," he said.
   
"Yeah, me too."
   
They begin walking away from the school. Wait up guys, I don't know what to say if I can't see you. Too far. I don't need to be yeeted into the retirement home wall. There we go. They go their separate ways...and I don't know who to follow...You know what, we'll just wait 'till Monday. Nothing big is going to happen before Monday. Yeah. Totally.