Touch the Sky

Maybe I Will

'Hey TT, what're you doing?' Cheryl asked me as she walked into our room and up to my desk where I was sat.

'I'm just writing,' I told her.

'What about?' She asked.

'I'm trying to come up with ideas, I want to do some thing to do with a haunted school, but I'm not sure exactly what yet,' I said, pushing my typewriter away from me as I turned to face her.

A closed-lip smile grew across her face, and I wondered what she could be thinking about. After a few seconds, she grabbed my hand and pulled me up.

'Come on!' She shouted, giggling like a little kid waiting for her mom to go downstairs on Christmas Day.

We ran (well, mostly jogged due to how unfit I am) to the opposite side of the school, until we were outside of what looked to be a janitor's closet.

She tried the door, but it was locked. Thinking fast, I noticed that Cheryl had a bobby pin holding her high pony tail up, so I quickly pulled it out of her hair and crouched onto the floor.

I had learnt to pick locks about a year ago when I was writing a story and a character was doing it, so I had to know how to do it in order to write about it. The only problem was that I'd never actually done it, I'd only read about it.

After inserting the top piece of the bobby pin into the lock, I wiggled it into shape until I hit the internal locking mechanism. I then turned the key clockwise for one rotation until, sure enough, the lock clicked open.

Cheryl tried the handle again and this time it worked; we were inside.

'Impressive,' Cheryl told me.

Inside was quite small, it just had a mop, a hoover and some sponges in.

'Why are we in here?' I asked, trying to figure out what we were doing. She just put her finger to her lip as if to quieten me, then she closed the door.

She climbed up on a blue chair that was in the corner of the room and reached towards the tiled ceiling, pushing one of the tiles out of place and pulling herself up. That girl has some arm strength.

My jaw dropped.

'Come on!' She exclaimed, laughing at my shocked expression as she stuck her head through the ceiling and back into where I was stood.

I climbed onto the small chair and she held her hand out to me, so I grabbed onto it with my left hand and the side of the hole in the ceiling with my right one.

After counting to three, I pulled myself up, with Cheryl's help.

Looking around, I noticed that we were in a small, wooden area with an old fashioned style roof that created a triangle above our heads. There was an old, broken bookshelf made from wood that had many cobwebs hanging down and there was also a metal filing cabinet.

Cheryl reached into the top drawer in the cabinet and pulled out a tall, white candle and a red lighter. She lit it then covered the hatch that we came through up with the tile, we were in almost complete darkness.

'Why'd you bring me up here?' I asked her as we sat down on the old, hard floor.

'To inspire your story, you could think of so many things to write about from coming up here,' she said from opposite me.

'Ahhhh,' she screamed, quickly standing up and stomping her foot.

'What?!' I exclaimed, jumping up and walking over to her to see a dead spider on the floor. 'Cheryl!' I cried, 'you can't kill them!'

'I just did,' she told me, her voice uninterested.

We sat back down, but she was next to me this time because the dead spider was now where she had been sat previously.

'We're like thunder and lightning,' Cheryl stated, her voice low but not quite a whisper.

'We are? How?' I questioned, not following.

'You come across as quite rugged, like you could handle anything, but in reality you wouldn't hurt a soul, just like thunder,' she turned to look at me.

'And you,' I took over from her, 'are beautiful and seem as though you'd never hurt anyone but, in reality, you can hurt others instantly.'

Cheryl was quiet for a few minutes.

'Is it a bad thing?' She asked.

'No. I would say it's a good thing to know how to handle yourself,' I told her honestly.

I wasn't about to admit this to her, but I'd always wished that I could be more mean and stand up for myself.

I thought back to when I was in the second grade, there was a boy named Harry and he sat on my table during English. He wouldn't stop calling me a 'fat pig', so I told the teacher that I couldn't see the board from where I was so that she'd move me. I didn't want to have to admit that he'd called me that incase she agreed with him and thought it was true. Looking back, there wasn't an inch of fat on me, but that still sticks with me to this day.

It's times like that that I wish I had more fight in me to be able to stick up for myself.

'You should try horse riding,' she announced out of the blue.

'I should? Why?' I asked her.

'I just think you'd be good at it. Also it'd be fun to have another friend who rides,' she told me.

'Okay then, maybe I will,' I replied, genuinely considering the possibility.

~~~

Author's Notes:

Sorry for the shorter chapter, I'm writing this at one in the morning and can't think of anything else to write in the chapter 😂😂.
Like Ive said, my writing is a bit all over the place atm, hopefully it'll pick up soon.
Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed!! 💚💚

Extra note for anyone who cares:
The thing about the guy named Harry actually happened to me when I was younger, the teacher ended up finding out and was so nice about it, she's actually now my English tutor and we're pretty close :).
I honestly wouldn't be half the writer I am now if it wasn't for her... she's a great woman.