Chapter 13
Ella
Monday
First day of school.
Last first day at Evermere High School.
Final exams, college applications, admission interviews, graduation ceremony and senior prom preparation, it was all happening on that last year. And I intended to be perfect in everything I would do and be part of.
Jake was telling me about his August as we walked past the school bar. I had been on my way to the stationery store when he and Ryan cornered me to ask how I was doing.
“So yeah, it was really cool,” Jake wrapped up his kayak summer story. “I missed you!” He put his left hand on my right shoulder, shaking me for a brief second.
We got to the stone bench tucked against the building near the principal’s office.
It was the spot where Jake, Ryan, and their group of friends always gathered.
An implicitly reserved space just for them, where no one else would sit except for the boys and girls “stamped” with that privilege. Still, I thought they were nice people.
After a quick hello, I resumed my walk to the stationery store.
Geraldine, the Vice President of our Student Association, was climbing the stairs just as I was heading down.
“Hey, Ella!” she smiled, not stopping her feet. “See you on Thursday!” she said, referring to our first Student Association meeting of the year.
“And see you on Friday!” I smiled back, referring to our Science Club get-together.
A couple more stops, and I finally reached my intended destination.
Mr. Tylus was there, as always, behind the counter, meticulously arranging stacks of notebooks and poster boards in perfect rainbow order.
He was always so calm. I liked observing him rearrange the supplies before calling his name and distracting him from that cautious task.
I wondered if I could have a job where it was just me and inanimate objects, in a space no larger than three feet square, behind the counter, all day.
Mr. Tylus’ job could be a flurry of activity: students lining up in droves, shelves emptying, photocopiers beeping.
Or the exact opposite: a temple of solitude and quiet.
I spent a few minutes talking to him. He complimented the weekend festivities and said he and his wife had a wonderful time. I was glad.
Nathan intercepted me just as I reached my locker. “How about a bet on how many seconds we can keep our balance on the board next Saturday?” he said, leaning against my neighbors’ lockers.
Nathan and I had known each other since elementary school.
We didn’t spend much time together outside school, he was part of Jake’s group, but in sophomore year we started surfing together.
Neither of us did it professionally, or even close to competently or skilfully; we both did it purely for the fun of it.
“What do we bet?” I asked.
“That box of chocolates I just saw inside your locker.”
I laughed, arms full of English books, trying to balance everything inside my locker. I swore I was organized throughout my own mess.
The school bell told us to hurry to the next classroom marked on our schedules. Nathan and I waved goodbye, no surf plans arranged. I was already busy on Saturday.
Students crossed paths, some still memorizing the school hallways and reading the numbers on classroom doors, others so familiar with it they walked in without checking.
My locker made no sound amidst the noise and chaos of the students, but as I shut it, my eyes found Miles. It had been a while. His smile widened, and mine did too.
We did not approach each other — he was stepping inside a classroom, and I was getting later by the second.