Ch. 4 We Meet Again
My friends push me into the crowd gathered around the notice board. I am the tallest amongst them, so I don't mind—although that changes quickly when I get elbowed twice.
Our results for the semester are up. I can't believe it's been four months since the day I arrived here.
Time to see how I—we—did.
"Court—you did fine. Overall score, B. Chris—A-! Janice—B+! Rachel—you did great! An A. Same as you, Nolan!"
"How did I do?" Madison calls behind me.
"Maddy! A+! Congratulations!"
She whoops behind me. I scan the list for my name and find it. A+.
Yes!
I join my friends in celebrating our results. The winter break will start soon enough.
"Can you believe it? Three people with A+? WPA never hands out anything more than an A, ever, and now three? Madison was the only one to ever get an A+! It's insane!"
I catch other students commenting on this as well.
"Who else got an A+? I was expecting it from you Marcus... but—"
Someone shouts from near the board— "It's that new girl, Celeste! Whoa! Madison has serious competition now!"
Madison's lips tighten in displeasure. I pat her back in consolation.
Honestly, I'm not surprised—but I am. All I've ever seen her do is study. She sits alone in the cafeteria at lunch, does group projects alone, and never speaks until spoken to.
I caught her looking at me in Advanced Math a few times, but she always looks away first.
She's the wildcard of this batch. Whatever.
It's time to call dad.
I'm going home for Christmas!
—-----------------
My shoes squeak on the floor as I head towards the exit. Christopher and his friends are huddled together, laughing and ribbing each other.
Marcus and Madison stand especially close. My chest grows heavy, but there's nothing I can do.
Should I have tried to get closer to him during the semester?
There were opportunities. We're together in Advanced Math. I could have talked to him, sat next to him...
Marcus always nods my way when we pass by each other.
I shake my head—these thoughts serve no one.
I'm not here to make friends. I'm here to study. To build my future.
Excelling at WPA is the end goal.
Christopher detaches from his friends and runs over.
"I heard you aced this sem. Congrats." He holds out his hand for me to shake.
I hesitate for a second before taking it. "You too. Congrats."
He smiles and thanks me. "See you at home?"
I nod. "Yeah, see you at...home."
While I don't belong with Chris and his friends, he makes sure they don't bully me. Not even Madison.
No one insults my mother. I haven't really fought anyone in almost half a year. It's a record mom would be proud of.
For the first time in a very long time, I'm starting to wonder if maybe... maybe I can try to make a friend or two?
We'll see.
—---------------
My shoes scuff the pavement as I head to the ticket counter. The bus to Radcliffe is scheduled to leave at 7:00 am. I should arrive by 1:30 pm.
It's not my hometown, but that's where mom spent her last six months—getting treated at the hospital, where I eventually joined her after finishing junior year—crashing at shelters because we lost our home long back.
It's just a half hour commute from the hospital to the shelter neighboring our old house in the next county.
I just... It's my first Christmas after mom died.
I wanted to visit her grave... I don't want to forget her too quickly.
I buy a ticket and wait for the scheduled time when a warm body drops into the seat next to mine.
"Fancy seeing you here..." I turn towards the voice.
"Marcus?"
He grins at me, "The very same! So? Where are you going?"
His words ring in my ears while I try to bring my rampant pulse under control.
Marcus smells like soap—clean and fresh. His hair falls into his eyes. The sun is rising behind his head beyond the window, casting him in a full body halo that makes my heart sing.
His blue eyes crinkle at the corners while he patiently waits for an answer.
I clear my throat. "Um—I'm going to Radcliffe. It's close to my hometown. You?"
He grins, delighted. "Radcliffe. It is my hometown. My dad lives there."
"Oh..." I smile and turn away. It's best if we ignore each other.
"Which high school did you attend before WPA?" My mouth betrays me before the thought is even complete.
He seems surprised at my question but answers anyway, "Alpen High. You?"
"River Valley High."
"Hah! You guys were always losing to us."
I bristle, only to find he's teasing me. My lips lift slowly, of their own accord.
I shake my head but concede the point. "Yeah, maybe. But not at everything, surely!"
He chuckles, "Well, sure. You won at swimming."
I nod smugly. He continues, "But that's only because our school didn't have a swim team."
I snort a laugh. "Whatever."
We grin at each other. Our conversation lapses into silence—a little awkward, but mostly comfortable.
The call to board the bus arrives and we both line up.
He moves behind me and when I raise an eyebrow in question, he simply says, "After you."
I shrug in response.
I board the bus, dump my bag in the overhead storage and grab a window seat.
He takes the seat next to mine.
I look up in surprise but can't find the fight to protest.
It's nice—talking with him.
We chat for a bit, before he nods off.
I watch the world pass us by outside the window. The city traffic slowly gives way to green fields and quaint storefronts.
Suddenly, his head lands on my shoulder and I freeze.
I don't know what to do.
His hair tickles my neck, but I don't want to push him away.
His chest is warm against my arm. I settle back in my seat, Marcus's head on my shoulder.
Somewhere along the way, my eyes drift close and I fall asleep too.
The bus jerks to a stop but an arm closes around me, preventing me from hitting my head against the seat in the front.
I blink my eyes open, only to look up into dreamy blue eyes flanked by lashes so long I'm almost envious.
"Good afternoon. We're here."
He smiles as he helps me straighten.
When did I...?
My cheeks heat up and I jerk back. "Um—sorry... I... I didn't..."
"Hey, don't sweat it. I borrowed your shoulder for quite a bit, didn't I? Made sense to let you borrow mine for a bit."
He gets up and pulls down both our bags.
"Come on. Let's go."
I rub my face and exit after him, bag in hand.
I can still feel the vestiges of his warmth along my face. The strength of his arms as he caught me.
I don't want to part just yet.
I haven't felt this human in a very long time.
"So where are you staying? I'll walk you down."
"I don't exactly have a place. I was going to do my thing, and then wait the night here, at the bus-stop. Take the early morning bus back, tomorrow."
I'm going to look for part-time work this break. Sure Jonathan is generous with my allowance, but I have a mountain of debt I have to pay off, and I'd like to get a headstart.
As for staying at the bus–stop, it can't be more dangerous than the shelters, surely?
He gapes at me like I'm insane. "Come on. You'll stay at my place tonight. I'll drop you off at the bus stop come morning. Don't you know it's unsafe to stay out like this?"
He shakes his head and mumbles something—I catch the words crazy, and stubborn.
I can't remember the last time someone looked out for me.
"Listen, I really don't want to impose."
"You won't be imposing. Dad will probably be passed out. To be honest, my place isn't all that great—but I promise it'll be safe. You'll see."
He grabs my bag and starts walking, his long legs speeding up, making me run to keep up.
By the time we stop outside his house, I'm huffing.
His house is worn, but the outside is fairly maintained. It's old, and a little love would go a long way towards restoring the small signs of damage I can see, but it's got good bones.
He leads us to the door and is fishing for his keys when it suddenly opens and a drunk man stumbles out.
"Marcus!" He cries and launches himself into his arms. "My son! You're here! I missed you!"
Marcus looks at me awkwardly while trying to juggle our bags and his father.
I step forward and take our bags, but make sure my expression is carefully neutral.
I know how it feels to be judged for our parents.
"Shall we?" I don't wait for an answer—just push his door open again and step into the home.
He looks grateful but doesn't comment. A quick "thanks" before he pulls his sobbing father inside and takes him to his room.
I sit in the living room and wait for him to return.
Some might say the room is cluttered, but I think it's just overwhelmingly brimming with memories.
Photographs of a happy family, a young Marcus standing between his parents, his father beaming proudly at his son.
A happy couple, pregnant.
Toys still lingering in broken cabinets, signs of neglect.
A pair of leather shoes, unworn but lovingly tended.
No shoes of a woman.
There is no scent of cooking. Liquor bottles hidden in random spaces.
It tells a story of broken hearts and a broken home.
"Sorry about that. I had hoped he would be sober—" He takes a deep breath and continues "—I'll understand, if you don't want to stay."
I smile and shake my head. "If it's all the same to you, I would like to stay the night. It reminds me of home, before mom passed."
His eyes widen. "I'm so sorry."
My lips twist to one side in a broken smile. "Don't be. She's surely in a better place."
I inhale deeply, the smell musty, yet familiar. "I came to visit mom's grave. She's buried here, in the cemetery close to the hospital. It's my first Christmas without her."
It's time to shut up.
I don't know why I indulged in the word vomit, but I've already said too much.
Marcus looks conflicted. At least he's forgotten to be upset about his father.
"Are you—"
"I'm going to—"
We both start speaking at the same time before laughing.
I gesture at him to go first. "Want to grab some lunch?"
I stare at him, debating if I want to spend even more time with him but his earnest eyes win me over. Plus, I owe him for letting me stay.
"Only if it's my treat."
He smiles and agrees.
He takes me to a few of his favorite spots, and we spend an hour walking around town sampling some of the best street food Radcliffe has to offer.
At the last stall, I ask them to pack an extra portion. "For your dad."
"You don't have to—"
"I want to. You're letting me crash at your place. It's the least I can do."
He nods reluctantly. I hand him the bag and smile.
We walk in silence, sipping on root beer as we return to his house.
"Dad wasn't always like this. He was a good dad once... Until..."
"Until life happened?"
He looks at me in surprise and nods.
"You don't have to explain—or talk about it if you don't want to. Just know, you did well Marcus. You're still doing well."
He swallows hard and looks away.
I skip ahead.
It's awkward. I've never comforted anyone before.
We arrive at his house and I stop at the gate. He joins me and frowns.
"Not coming in?"
"I'm going to go visit my mother now, before it gets dark."
"Oh. Oh, sure. Would you like company?"
"Not this time. Thanks for lunch, though, Marcus. I had a really good time."
This is literally the second time I ate with someone who wasn't my mom.
"See you in a bit?" His voice is tentative, like he isn't quite sure what he's asking.
I nod. "See you in a bit."
I wave goodbye and head towards the cemetery.
—----------------
I kneel next to mom's grave, unsure what to say.
I pick off the leaves that have flown onto the marker and sweep the dust off with my hands.
I place the flowers I picked on the way here and place them on the grave.
Wildflowers—her favorite.
"Why do you like wild flowers so much? They aren't that pretty, nor do they smell great. In fact, they're a nuisance."
She was arranging wildflowers she picked in a bottle filled with water because we didn't have a vase.
"Because, they flourish in conditions that kill the other flowers. It doesn't matter that they aren't the best at anything, that they're unwanted. They find a way to survive. I admire that."
Then she looks me dead in the eye and says, "Also helps that they're free."
I remember blinking at her in surprise before breaking out into laughter right alongside her.
It was one of the good days.
"I miss you, mom. You wouldn't believe half the things I've experienced since you passed."
I rub a leaf between my fingers. "I raised my GPA—to A+. Haven't hit a single person all semester... I think..."
I drop the leaf. "I think I like a boy. You'll like him. I'll bring him to meet you some day."
I speak with mom for some time, then sit with her in silence, trying to soak what presence I can.
The ground is cold. Snow is expected any day now.
The sky is grey, almost overcast.
Eventually, I get up to leave. No tears come. It's hard to accept that mom won't come sneaking up on me like when I was little.
By the time I walk back to Marcus's, it's almost time for dinner.
He's sitting by the porch, like he's waiting—for me.
"There you are. I was wondering if I should go look for you. It gets dark quickly in these parts."
I smile at him.
Just for a moment, I let myself imagine what it would be like to lean on someone like him.
Kind.
Open.
Guileless.
To truly have someone in my corner.
I follow him inside, one thought circling my heart like a vulture—
Would that even be possible?