The following Monday, I waded through school in a fog. My friends noticed, but I really didn’t care. Robin met me at the parking lot, as usual. I was silent as we walked down towards the bluff; Robin talked about the latest Youth Group drama at her church. There was always plenty of it to talk about. After a while, she broke the stream of gossip. “You’re really quiet today.”

                “Mmmhmmm.” She looked at me for a few moments before continuing.

                I drifted through the halls dazedly, and couldn’t pay attention in my classes. I felt like I was suffocating, trapped.

                “Lyre, what’s wrong?” Lilah asked at the beginning of Math Theory. I kept my head down and didn’t answer, hoping she would think I was asleep.

                “She’s been like this all through PreCal,” Jennifer answered from the desk in front of me. I sat in the back row, and Mrs. Ansell didn’t bother me until the bell rang. I must’ve fallen asleep, because her voice, kindly telling me to go to lunch, was the next thing I heard. I obeyed gratefully.

                Unlike the others, Elena tried to pry a conversation out of me. I managed to avoid her relentless efforts, but she caught up to me on the way to Biology. “Lyre, really. I know something’s wrong, and you need to tell me.” Her eyes were wide with concern, and she shook her long hair around as she spoke.

                “No, El. Really. Everything’s fine,” I assured her, feebly attempting a smile.

                “No, it’s not. I know there’s something, and if you don’t tell me, I’m going to kidnap you, and take you to Coffee Loft, and you’re going to tell me.” She pursed her lips. I shrugged helplessly.

                “Ok,” I said, as we entered the classroom. I sat down heavily and turned around to face her. “I’ve had a friend, a best friend for 11 years, Major Lord. We were close. I broke contact with him two years ago, for reasons I’d rather not talk about. Saturday night, at midnight, I got a call. It was one of Major’s idiot friends. He needed me over there immediately.” I got up, walked to the trash can, and threw away my apple core. “Major had tried to kill himself, and damn near succeeded.” I sat down and turned back around, just in time to see Mrs. Dyson walk in.

                “Okay, everyone. Sit down and get out your notes. We’re going over the Krebs Cycle today, how exciting!” My last thought before I drifted off was of relief; I already understood every bit of the lesson.

-              -              -

                 “Major? Major!” He was so completely fixated at something in the distance that I could not refocus his attention on our game. “Major! Help me up! I can’t reach the first step.” I continued to scramble up to the tree-house, without much success.

                “You’ve got the prettiest house in the whole world,” he said dreamily, gazing from the spacious backyard towards the mansion. It rose majestically by the road, a stately gentleman even from the back. The carriage-house stood in waiting, a groomsman slightly behind and to the side of the more imposing figure of his master. The two towering old buildings formed an oblong courtyard where my parents parked their battered cars. The neighbors’ fenced-in lawns provided the third side, and our own backyard jungle completed the gravel plot. “It’s the color of the sea. Have you ever seen the sea?”

                I had managed to wedge myself into a crook where a thick limb came off of the tree, scowling at my best friend in impatience. “Well, I think so. I’ve seen the bay. It’s where we live.”

                “The sea is different. At least I think it is.” He thought for a while, and his forehead creased in concentration. “I saw the sea once when we went to California. My mom said it was the real thing. There were waves as tall as my dad! Have you seen the sea?”

                “Noo,” I drawled out slowly as I thought.

                “Well your house is just as green as the sea!” I said nothing. He did not need an answer; he never did. I nodded to be polite, but he would not have seen; he was too deep in his own vibrant world.

Author guidance for This story

For situations involving IM-ing, I tried to reproduce the grammatically incorrect way in which it is actually preformed. I hope it does not detract.

updated Oct 14 '09 by Lyre