I stepped forward, “Mr. Krueger, Slate tripped and hit his face against the edge of the…desk.”Oh my God, I lied.
Mr. Krueger’s eyes tightened into thin little slits as he looked at me. “Is that really what happened?”
Everybody nodded.
“Okay then, let’s get you into the nurse’s station, shall we?” he said to Slate, walking him to the door. Drake followed right behind him. “The rest of you, go find your parents and go home.”
Jase, Joey, and I were left in the music room alone.
“THAT was the COOLEST THING EVER!” Joey yelled, jumping up and down in front of Jase “Where did you learn to punch like THAT?”
“My mom,” Jase said, walking out the door without saying another word to us.
Later that night when I got home from school, I climbed into my tree house by myself to sketch. Leaning up against my beanbag chair, I closed my eyes and tried to picture the tiny fireflies I noticed on my way home, and how they glowed their bright little bodies as the late summer sun set.
Something made a heavy thud against the wooden floorboards of the tree house, sending vibrations along the planks. I opened my eyes and Jase Delaney was right next to me, his alien eyes watching me.
“How’d you get up here? I pulled up the rope ladder, there’s no way…”
“I climbed up to the roof of my garage and jumped over,” he said quietly.
I ran to the open window and stuck my head out, “But that’s like a million miles away!”
“Yeah, I know. For a minute I thought I might die, but I jumped anyway,” he chuckled. “I just ah…wanted to say thank you, for you know, not saying shit to Krueger. That was pretty cool.” He talked like someone who was much older than me.
“Thanks,” I answered quietly, not able to look in his eyes.
“You know, you don’t look like a Charlotte,” he said.
I snapped my eyes to meet his, “Yeah, I know. I was named after my father’s grandmother. I hate it. It reminds me ofCharlotte’s Weband I hate spiders.”
“You’re always reading…books likeCharlotte’s Weband shit.”
“Yeah, I really like to read.”
“I’m not gonna call you Charlotte, since you hate spiders. I’m gonna call you Charlie.”
That made me smile. Charlie. I liked it. “Did your mom really teach you how to punch someone?”
“No, she taught me how important it is to block someone,” he whispered.
Thememory slowly faded as the sounds of the coffee shop poured through my ears, and the sweet smell of pastries attacked my other senses. My last thought as the young images of us vanished from my mind, was wondering if we’d still be able to recognize each other, or had life left its mangledscars on us and the kids we once were could no longer be seen.
I sat up in my seat a bit straighter, kicking the cobwebbed thoughts out of my mind, and noticed that the person sitting at the table behind me was reading the screen of my iPad over my shoulder. The woman even had the nerve to clear her throat to get me to turn to the next page. She was so close to me that I could smell what her flavor of coffee was - Pumpkin Spice.
Mischievously, spurred by thoughts of Jase, I felt my lips tug up at the corners of my mouth, quickly swiped my screen to my favorite photos, and pressed on my slide show of black and white erotic pictures.
The woman gasped loudly behind me, and her coffee spilled across the table. I stood up to leave, smiled wide, and gave her a little wink before I left.
Slowly making my way back to the shop, every step I took closer to the place I’ve called home for almost ten years made my smile falter, until I felt it turn into a straight, tight line.
All because the closer I walked to my future
The further I was from my past.
And sometimes your past just doesn’t let go
Of you.
