Ode to Bree

Apologies

Unedited Chapter 2 [2]

       Bree Pasko.

       Nathan stared at the name written in neat, bold letters. She probably took her precious time, carefully drawing the lines one-eighty straight, and made sure all the curves were curved perfectly—not a single mistake.

       He didn't want to invade her privacy, so he didn't look at the contents inside, just the name written on the front. He should have gone to the office already, but he went down to the basement instead. His hands were itching for the guitar, and his ears to hear the tune.

       He placed the folder on top of his bag and reached for the guitar he had left three and a half hours ago; a few specs of dust decorated it once more, and again, he took pleasure in wiping it away.

       "Shallow waters settle beneath me, I can see my reflection. Is there nothing else I can do, or nothing else I can say to make it better? To make me a better," he softened his voice to just a mere whisper, "man?"

       He switched up the chords, going into the verse, his voice dropping a bit lower.

       "Maybe I can tell you a story, and show you a part of my soul. Maybe you'll understand it, or baby maybe you'll want to go," he then stopped abruptly, the last chord ringing out. He didn't know the rest of the verse. He was making it up as he went, but now his mind was stuck in a ditch.

       He bit his lip and rubbed his left hand, his fret hand, on his jeans before strumming another chord, starting the verse a bit different.

       Again, he stopped where he did the first time.

       He looked over at the lime green folder lying on top of his backpack; maybe he should just go find her and return it.

       No. He should find a teacher and let them deal with it.

       He was getting nowhere with his music right now. Maybe he should just go find her. He didn't really want her to run away in the first place.

       But what would he have said?

       Hey. Um. I saw you. At this. Um. Nightclub. Um. What's up?

       He chuckled to himself. What a stupid thought.

       He felt hungry, anyway, so he put away the guitar for the second time, time grabbed the folder and his bag and made his way back upstairs into the jungle. Hardly anyone ate in the cafeteria, but it was still crowded. Sometimes, Nathan swore there were a million people attending his school. They were like ants—giant ones.
       Since he left so early this morning, he had to time to make himself lunch. He never liked the school lunches, ever since he found a hair in his macaroni and cheese in middle school, so he just got a juice box instead. They were out of apple juice, so he got grape.

       Like a child, he struggled to free the straw from his clear, plastic confines; he resorted to using his teeth, which he was sure made him look very weird to the people around him.
       Once he punctured his way into the box, he began his search for the shy girl with the long, black hair.

       He had no clue where she would be: The cafeteria? Not somewhere a girl as meek as her would be hanging around. Probably the library? Maybe. There could be a chance that she's a nerdy girl that loves to hide out in the restricted sections.

       But he also knew her name. He could just ask around for her.

       Bad idea.