Hidden (Short Story Series #2)

Chapter Eleven

The weekend was over slowly, but Monday came along. My mom didn’t care that I didn’t go to school. I stayed home watching television the whole time. She didn’t mind when I skipped Tuesday either. But I didn’t feel like staying cooped up again. So after my mom left for work, I decided to take a walk.

Winter was coming to an end, but the cold weather still lingered. The chilly breeze blew my hair back, the curls whipping behind me. I let the fresh air cleanse me. I tried to forget about the recent events, letting the wind snatch them away. It might have worked for a little while, but I couldn’t get rid of the past. And I knew it. Just admitting that to myself confirmed it.

I stopped walking at the old park. No one was there but me. I found my way to the swings. I remembered when I was little and used to right over getting a turn. That was the worst of the worst back then. I wished things were so simple and innocent as they used to be. But no matter what you do, change always happens. You have only to brace yourself for it.

I moved forward, backward, forward, backward. The swing made me feel like I was hovering weightlessly in the air, a few feet above the ground. Old snow still covered the ground, and dragged my feet through it.

What was I doing? Running away? Of course not! I guess I had come here to thing about everything that had happened. I didn’t know what I was hoping for. Some sort of revelation? An inspirational moment? Instead, I felt numb, and not from the cold. I felt nothing. I didn’t really have any inspirational or deep thoughts. I guess movies and novels aren’t always so true.

I sighed. This whole “thinking things out” concept was harder than I thought, so much harder than they make it seem in stories. Maybe that was my issue. I was acting like it was all one big story. But realist had hit me in the face when I least expected.

I got up from the swing. The young spring sun had started melting the snow, making it stick to my boots. I climbed onto the playground equipment, stopping at the top of the slide. I looked down. It was just one slippery slope between me and the ground. Grabbing the sides for support, I slowly slid myself, down, stopping where the slide was the least steep. I lay back and rested there for a while. The sun was shining from straight overhead, and I knew it was around noon time. The warmth lulled me to sleep.

I woke up to gaze upon the setting sun. The orange and pink colors faded away with the warmth. I pulled my coat tighter around me. Pretty soon, the sun was completely gone, and stars began to dot the sky. I looked for patterns and shapes among them to pass more time. I was never able to find actual constellations, so I made my own.

I wished I could be like the stars, radiant and free, only known for good things.

But no. I was nothing like them. I was along and dull. Known as a tramp. Fun, right?

I got up and decided to stop this thinking process. It got me nowhere except back to where I began. I would just go to school tomorrow. There was no point in staying away any longer just so I could drive myself crazy.

I checked my phone and saw a text from my mom. It said: “Whenever you get home, I made dinner: my special macaroni and cheese, fried mushrooms, and cheesy broccoli.” It sounds weird, but it was my favorite dinner. She knew it, too. I silently thanked God for her. And for comfort food.

I started the journey back home.

o .  O  . o

I got up the next morning ready to face the school day. I traveled via school bus back to the place I had run from.

When I got there, I got some looks, but that was only to be expected. There were no crude comments or unnecessary reactions.

I went through the day, not really talking to anyone—until lunch. I ate my food at my locker again. But this time, there was another girl sitting against the lockers across from me. She had a skater-looking hat on, light brown hair underneath, and wore skater-like clothes. She had black Chucks on her feet.