Page 4 of Infinity Chronicles 1
I peek back toward the curtained off area noting it is, in fact, closed.
I ease my backpack off, dropping it quietly on the tiny dining table not wanting to wake her up.
I have homework in two classes that should only take me a few minutes before I need to head back out and hand in the few applications I managed to collect Sunday afternoon.
* * *
The noteI left on the tiny counter is still there when I return, and Mom is still nowhere in sight. Getting a little worried, I tread to the back where I usually sleep and brush the thin curtain barrier aside to peer at the small double bed.
Mom is half on her stomach, half on her side, sprawled over the flimsy mattress. Her messy hair, which should be a dark shade of blonde, looks taupe instead. Her face is buried so I can only make out one eyelid that is crisscrossed with dark purple veins, giving her a ghoulish look.
I remember when she used to shine; it makes my heart sad to see her like this.
When I was younger, she always seemed so full of life, so vibrant with all her bright flowing dresses and multicolored beads. I can't remember a specific time when things changed, when she became this shell of herself, but my memories of what she once was are fading, just like she is.
I leave her to sleep, and a small box of mac 'n' cheese later, I'm trying to get comfortable on our small couch and while fighting off sleep so I can finish this chapter. It's near eleven and I've been getting increasingly worried Mom isn't awake yet, but I leave her, figuring she must need the rest.
Sometime in the middle of the night Mom wakes me up. My book is open on my stomach and my mouth feels dry, so I know I've been asleep for a while.
“Oh honey,I’m sorry to take the bed. You go on back and get some sleep now.” I'm not sure if I give more than a grunt of acceptance before lumbering to the bed and slipping back to sleep.
My alarm is an old-fashioned thing, it runs on batteries and the sound comes from a tiny hammer twitching back and forth between two bells. It always does the job of waking me, even when the batteries are aging, making the toll and time run a little slow.
I roll over, looking toward the tiny window next to my bed. The sky is still dark but I need to shower so I don't let myself fall back into the dreamless sleep that is so welcoming.
* * *
The South Carolinasun warms my neck and back as I make my way to school. I'm actually grateful we left Michigan before it got too cold; believe it or not by mid October it's usually pretty chilly there.
I don't arrive at school as early today. I need to find that sweet spot where I don't have to rush to class, but I'm not too early either. It can take a few days to master. I want to be in class before the bell rings, but not overly early so the kids have reason and the time to talk to me.
From an old sparse oak tree I'm able to watch my peers without their notice. I see all the prerequisite cliques as they meet up for the day.
I've dubbed all the groups with my own names, whether they actually fit in those categories is another thing altogether. For example, the cheer or pep squad, as I like to call them, are the popular girls, the girls that run the school and know it. They are always the first group I scope out, and stay far away from.
I spy the pretty blonde from the stairwell yesterday and watch her. I'm not disappointed when she saunters up to a group of three girls waiting by a new model mustang. Seconds later she breaks from the group and sashays her way to a group of guys.
Now, that group has me scratching my head. I can't make out their faces from here, but their clothes and demeanor wouldn't suggest they aren't actually a group. There's a tall beefy guy with dark hair, his back is to me but he's wearing dark jeans, a leather jacket, and boots: bad boy.
The person next to him I almost mistook for a girl at first glance, but I was very wrong. Blond hair, long blond hair that reaches past his wide shoulders. He wears light fitted jeans, without being overly tight and cuffed at the bottom, and his red and black plaid shirt is rolled to the elbows: skater boy.
The third guy is a half head shorter than the others. His kind of short caramel brown hair is lifted in the front and somewhat styled. He's wearing gray sweatpants and a green t-shirt that looks either a few years old or a few sizes too small: jock.
All these things mean these boys are definitely popular the upper echelon of the school, and probably run in the same crowd, but the way they haven’t acknowledged anyone else and their close proximity to each other makes me believe they're truly friends. Not just saying hello in passing, which seems kind of strange considering I could place them with their perspective groups easily as I peer around the parking lot and front lawn.
As cheer girl gets closer to their group her features blur along with the distance.
Most of the kids are now streaming into the doors so I don't have time to watch which of the boys in the group she belongs with.
At lunch I don't linger in the stairwell as long as I did yesterday.I have my paper sack and book gathered up before the warning bell. I don't want to be caught hanging out when some couple needs a secluded spot to make out again.
I still hear a few whispers and some of the bolder kids even start to say hello to me. I always respond back with just enough to show I’m not ignoring them, but never stick around long enough for them to actually talk to me. Soon enough they won't bother speaking to me, and after that I'll be able to walk the halls invisible.
I'm hopelessly staringat the glossy magazine photo I chose for my project muse, and wondering how the hell I'll ever get my shapes to look anything like the beautiful girl in the picture, when I hear a soft warm, “Hey.”
I have to walk a fine line to become nonessential. I can't just ignore him, then people would start to think I'm stuck up. My approach is like threading a needle, I have to be shy and awkward enough that they don't befriend me, and quiet enough that they forget me.
As I've gotten older, it's pretty easy with boys. As long as I don't get friendly with them they usually are the first to wipe me from the radar.
