Finding Ford

chapter three

"What a treacherous thing to believe that a person is more than a person." -John Green, Paper Towns

FORD HAS NEVER EXACTLY BEEN THE TYPE TO SULK AROUND, BUT HE'S in a strangely good mood the next couple of days. The day after I had stayed with him for wood shop, he greeted me at lunch with a giant hug, repeatedly thanking me for staying and helping him, claiming that the look on his teacher's face had practically secured him an A. It's not just that, though; even in our classes together, he just seems a lot more brighter, and not as quiet as he usually is.

Lucas admits it, too; though he claims he likes it because it's bringing out 'Ford's rebellious side' which I think everybody can agree Ford doesn't have. If calling out in class is what Lucas means, though, then I guess that can be classified as rebellious for Ford. We're in English, and Mrs. Hines is pretty upset that her favourite student isn't really participating. So, to make up for the silence of the students, she drones on about Charles Dickens' final unfinished novel.

"Many different adaptations of the book have been written," she explains. "Many people have tried to finish it themselves, but it just never matched up to Charles Dickens' writing. Some people believed the book was better unfinished because it left that element of mindboggling mystery that he was so good at. Some people even believed that he did it on purpose."

Jas rolls her eyes beside me, whispering, "Yeah, he totally died on purpose."

"Does anyone know how Charles Dickens passed away?" Mrs. Hines asks, finally addressing the class. Her eyes flicker to Ford for a moment, but he doesn't have his hand up for once, so she moves on. When no one answers, Mrs. Hines sighs. "He died of stroke."

The class stays unresponsive. Mrs. Hines snaps. "I hope you're all taking notes! There's going to be a test on this Friday, after all."

"Since when?" Lucas demands.

"Since now," she declares. People groan and the sound of paper being taken out and notebooks opening up fill the room. I roll my eyes, irritated, and open my binder, clicking my pen on and off from habit.

Mrs. Hines moves on from Charles Dickens' death, back to his final novel, The Mystery of Edwin Drood. She starts making us write down points on the basic plot- Edwin Drood is to marry some girl, although their love is flat and bland. He is then accused of treating her poorly, and after getting his watch repaired, is declared missing the following day by his uncle Jasper.

By the end, my hand is cramping up, but I manage to take down the last of the notes before the bell rings. I pack up quickly, eager for lunch, but my eyes flicker to Ford. I can't help but notice that he hasn't taken down a single note.

"You're pretty confident," I tell him, gesturing to his empty notebook. Ford's grey eyes sparkle with amusement.

"I know this book like the back of my hand," he explains, a ghost of a smirk on his lips. "I know it from the beginning to end, trust me."

I narrow my eyes. "There is no end, though. It wasn't finished."

Ford smiles. "There's always an end, Ava."

He pushes past me to make his way to the doors, leaving me alone in the class. I blink a couple of times, getting over my shock, before running after him, ready to demand what he meant. But, when I enter the hallway, he's no where to be seen.

I sigh, pushing through the crowd of students to make my way to my locker. Jas isn't there- she's really quick when it comes to lunch. I open the door, winching at the screech it makes, and toss in my first period textbooks. The money in my pocket feels heavy, begging for me to buy food already, and I'm happy to comply.