Chapter 10 #2
The train stops and I look up. We’re at my station, and I stand, murmuring an excuse me to the person next to me.
The doors almost close on me, but I dart through and head to the elevator, composing a text back to Forrest. I don’t want to ask him more about his parents, in case it’s a touchy subject, so I ask him about Simba instead, and then suddenly we’re talking about how long they’ve had him, what his personality is like, and he asks me if I have any siblings, and I learn that he has an older brother in college and a little sister in elementary school, and then he sends me a song he’s really into, and I listen to it, and then I’m home, walking in the back door, English Breakfast running toward me.
I slide my headphones off and kneel to pet him.
“Hi Brekky,” I whisper with a smile. The bad thoughts are a distant echo in my mind, muted by the conversation with Forrest. I never would have thought someone who annoyed me as much as he has could be this fun to talk to.
It’s a little weird, how much I’m enjoying it.
Maybe I was wrong about him. Or maybe he’s grown since freshman year.
Either way, I don’t really care anymore.
I’m tired of spending all my energy on hating him.
Forrest and I text back and forth throughout the evening, and the next morning, I have a video waiting for me when I wake up, a silly one of a cat. I laugh as I watch it, shaking my head, and send one back.
When I get to school, I look for him as I pass his locker, but I don’t see him. I round the corner and someone fills my vision, a split second before we collide.
“Ah, fuck!” a familiar voice says as I stumble back, something warm and wet soaking the front of my sweatshirt. It’s Jayden, mug clasped in his hand, the contents splashed down his clothes too.
“Sid, I’m so sorry,” he says, holding his arms out as they drip. “It’s just tea, don’t worry, it won’t stain.”
“I don’t care about that,” I say, looking him over. He’s got dark circles under his eyes, but he always does in the morning. He’s making a sheepish face at me, no hint of guardedness in his eyes. “Are you OK?”
He frowns. “Yeah, I’m fine, it’s just liquid. Are you OK?”
“Yes! Yeah.” I look down at myself. “I needed to wash this hoodie anyway.” It’s my black one from the last time Billie Eilish played here.
“OK. Hey, you stay here. I’m just gonna grab some paper towels and I’ll be right back.”
I nod, and he beelines into the boys’ bathroom next to us, a small puddle on the floor where he was standing. I set my backpack on the ground and take off my hoodie. It’s not that wet, just damp on the front, and I’m wearing a long-sleeve shirt, so I won’t be cold while it dries.
Jayden reappears and kneels down to soak up the spilled tea with a handful of paper towels.
He does it with his usual energy; no hint of lethargy, or a hangover of some kind.
It doesn’t seem like he’s on drugs. And now that I see him, I realize how silly that idea is.
It’s Jayden. Like the rest of us, he’s never even smoked weed, let alone done anything else.
“I heard we both ditched lunch yesterday,” he says as he stands up.
“Forrest and I had another meeting,” I say. “We were talking about the exhibit.”
“That makes sense.” He wads the paper towels together and chucks them into the nearest trash bin. “Whoosh! Nothing but net.”
I snort. “You’re such a jock.”
“Someone’s gotta balance the rest of you nerds out,” he says cheerfully. “You going to first period?” I nod. “Sweet, I’ll walk with you.”
We fall into step, the halls thinning out; the first bell must have rung. I was so caught up in our collision, I didn’t even notice. It feels good to be walking beside Jayden, beside one of my best friends.
“So what about you, what’s your excuse for missing lunch yesterday?” I ask as we arrive outside Ms. Lundahl’s room.
“Oh! Um. I was . . . breakdancing.”
“Breakdancing?” I can’t help it; the word comes out incredulous.
He flushes. “Yeah. The club meets at lunch on Mondays.”
“Cool!” I say quickly. I don’t want to make him feel bad with my surprise. But he’s never once shown an interest in any kind of dancing, let alone breakdancing.
“Thanks!” He scratches the back of his head. “So . . . see you at lunch? Like usual?”
“Yeah!”
He shoots me finger guns and darts away, leaving me watching his retreating back. I’m no stranger to Jayden’s sudden hyperfixations; I guess this is the latest one. I take a deep breath and let it out slowly. He’s not leaving us. He’s fine. We’re fine. The Halloween thing was just a weird blip.
That night, I lie on my bed after dinner, scrolling on my phone and feeling accomplished.
I did my math homework and worked on my portion of the history group project.
It’s due next week, and I’m not going to let myself fall behind again like I did with the English assignment.
Now that my outline is in, the rough draft is next.
My phone buzzes, a text dropping in from the top of the screen. It’s Dad. I thumb open the message, my heart rate only speeding up a little bit at its appearance.
So, about that visit to Mount Rainier, he says. You game? Sunday, maybe?
It’s been a long time since I visited the national park, even though the mountain is a constant presence watching over the city.
The last time I was there was with Mom and Dad, and it’s a barely there memory, a few snapshot images in my mind: bright green grass, wildflowers, a deer peering at me from within the trees. It would be nice to go back.
Yeah, I say. I’m game.