The Winged [HIATUS]

Chapter Five

"Again, you can't connect the dots looking forward; you can only connect them looking backwards. So you have to trust that the dots will somehow connect in your future. You have to trust in something - your gut, destiny, life, karma, whatever. This approach has never let me down, and it has made all the difference in my life." –Steve Jobs

[ C H A P T E R  F I V E ]

_________________

The rest of the school day flies by. Tempest teaches me how to hack the school’s firewall system in computer tech. In English she’s the only person who can define a gerund off the top of her head. In algebra she’s gifted with polynomials, and in world studies she can recite every country and capital in Europe.

By academic assist, I am starting to tire of her endless spouting of fun facts.

“Let me guess,” I grumble to her in the hall, “you’re in my AA too.”

Tempest glances at her schedule. “Yep,” she replies, popping the P.

Kill me now.

“You’re stuck with me, though,” she says.

“That’s not a free pass to cling to me like glue,” I clarify.

A hurt expression crosses Tempest’s face. She reaches for an invisible pocket again, seeking comfort that isn't there, before veiling her anxiety. The space between us widens, but she keeps my pace and pretends that nothing happened.

I am confused. What did I do to provoke that…?

“Tempest,” I prompt gently, “what’s wrong?” I’m not good at dealing with emotions, but maybe she will open up to me.

Tempest appears nonchalant. “My parents….”

“Your parents, what?”

She shrugs and looks straight ahead. “It’s nothing.”

“Well, it must be something,” I reason, though I’m beginning to doubt I saw anything.

Tempest looks like she’s arguing with herself for a moment before she decides to speak. “They just… They wanted me to stay out of their way. They thought I was a nutcase.”

“I wouldn’t say you’re a nutcase,” I console her; even though I do think she’s a tad bit weird. “No one else here thinks you’re crazy either. The guys practically drool over you!”

“Pfft!” Tempest sighs, waving me off. “No they don’t.”

“Are you blind?”

“Apparently.”

“Well,” I say, “don’t listen to your parents. You’re no freak, believe me.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” Tempest whispers to herself.

I blink. “Excuse me, what?”

She looks like a deer caught in headlights. I can see her brain working to come up with an excuse, but she knows that I heard her. “Later. When we’re not in school,” she mumbles. She won’t say anything else, officially cutting our conversation short. We walk the rest of the way to AA in silence.

For those of you who don’t have Academic Assist at your school, allow me to explain. AA is a forty-five minute study hall at the end of the day. It’s essentially a chance for the students to finish their homework and, well… study. Some teachers are stricter about rules than others, but the basics are essentially the same: little to no talking, work on things that are academically rewarding, and no “sharing” answers. Our AA instructor is Mr. Collins. He’s usually pretty loose about regulations.