Dire wolf

4

August 2, 2115

After the assembly, I have physical education. All the students probably won't be done till lunch, but we were asked to go to class once we got our results. It's third period now, and the halls are emptying.

I get to the locker room right as the bell rings. Khara is there waiting for me, as usual.

"Layta!" She says loudly.

I smile uncomfortably and walk to her. Her face shows no pain, and her stature is proud; as if she just got an A on a test or impressed someone, but I can tell by the way she holds her arm that it hurts.

"Oh, hey!" I say, trying to sound upbeat. "Can I see your tattoo?"

She proudly holds up her hand, showing flushed skin trying to get blood out of a scar on her hand!

The scar is roughly carved into swirling designs. The design is beautiful, but the blood ruins it. I can tell that it will look really nice against her tan skin once it has healed, but for now... ew.

"That's horrid!" I say, trying not to vomit. I hate the sight of blood.

"That's what grannies say," She says without a hint of pain in her voice.

"I'm a modern." I say defensively, holding my tattoo in my hand.

"That's nice." She says plainly.

I was expecting a little reaction, but I guess that I did act a lot like a modern. Both of our eras were expected, sort of.

"Anyway, do you want to ditch today?" She asks.

"No!" I say sharply. I would usually make up some lame excuse about getting good grades and following the rules, but I decided against it. "No, I thought PE was your favorite class. And now that you're an ancient, it's required. For you, PE is more important than math."

She thinks for a second, re gathers her PE clothes; camo workout pants and a gray tee shirt. We all have to wear it. "Yeah, I guess so. Anyway, get changed! We're gonna be late!"

She goes off, and I change quickly. I re do my bun into something sturdier, then we head to the gym together.

Today, we focused on distance running. As usual, I sucked.

We're supposed to run as far as we can on the track in forty minutes. Each lap is about a fourth of a mile. Khara stays by me for a while at the beginning, but she gets bored and goes at a much faster pace later on. I take about ten walking breaks, much to Mrs. Kamik's disliking. "Move it, Layta!" She says about eighty times. "A tree could out run you!"

By the time we are done, I am gasping for breath. Khara looks tired, but just barely. She got a stunning total of six and a half miles. I got one and a half.

The day seems slow. My hand with the tattoo on it aches; I'm sure this ink isn't good for kids.

At the end of the day, I'm exhausted.
I can barely peddle my bike down the road.

When I go home, I do something I don't often do; I take my strawberry blond hair out of the tight bun, and un button my shirt. I have a white tank top under it, but I'm usually in dress code. I feel exposed, but in a good way. I want to take a nap again, but my mind can't relax.

I haven't seen my parents in days, and I desperately need to talk with someone close to me. They always leave for work at four, and come home at ten. I'm supposed to be in bed by nine, so I usually spend all of my free time alone. They have Sunday's off, but still. I'm lucky I have parents; a lot of other kid's parents are at war, dead, or lost. But I wish I could've with them more often. I get lonely easily.