The Way The World Ends ✓

Chapter 6. Nate

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Eyes I dare not meet in dreams

In death's dream Kingdom 

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         His heart still beat quickly in his chest. He couldn't believe he actually worked up the nerve to text her. Indigo Clarke. Texting her was so distracting that he couldn't focus on anything else, especially not his homework. He always had a problem focusing on his work, and while he conversed with Indigo, he was far too jittery to do much but wriggle in his desk chair and wait for her to respond. He had to force himself to wait in between replies to text her back for fear of coming on too strong. He didn't want to scare her away with his hyperactivity and inability to be subtle.

He focused on everything at the same time. The peculiar pink shade of the sunset, the way his desk lamp was tilted just a few degrees to the left instead of being centered, the background noise of his father watching the TV, the precise moment his chair squeaked when he turned back and forth on his swivel chair, left, squeak, right left, squeak, right, left, squeak, squeak, squeak. He jumped out of his chair and collapsed on his back on the floor, looking up at the bottom of his chair to locate the loose screw that was causing the squeaking. He walked quickly to the closet and rummaged through the tool box for the right sized screwdriver and once he found it, he slipped under the chair again and expertly tightened the screw. He slid down the wood floored hallway in his sock to return the screwdriver but overshot the hall closet by a few feet. He whipped his head up to peek into the living room adjacent to his bedroom to see what his dad was doing. His father was watching TV with his feet up on the ottoman, deeply engaged in the baseball game. Nate checked his watch and he was surprised to see that it was already seven. He hadn't eaten yet, so after returning the tool he slid into the kitchen to fix himself dinner, both distracted and ultimately trying to distract himself from his phone to give Indigo some space.

He bounced on the balls of his feet as he fixed himself a sandwich.

"Da-ad! Do you want a sandwich?" He called to the back of his dad's head, which he could see through the open kitchen.

"Sure!" His dad called back, turning his head slightly but keeping his eyes on the game.

Nate made the two sandwiches, deposited one next to his dad, and slid on his socks back to his bedroom. He slipped the plate onto his desk, holding his textbook and phone in his lap to make room before shifting everything back onto the desktop. He tried to make himself wait a few more minutes to check his phone, but he couldn't help himself. He had already said goodnight to her, but he just kept hoping that she would text him again. But she hadn't yet.

Nate sighed and tried to focus on his History textbook, but the words were too small, and the language was too dense in his jittery state. He was so worked up after talking to Indigo that he couldn't even hope to focus for more than five minutes. He wanted to take more of his A.D.H.D medicine, but he knew he shouldn't. He didn't want to rely on it forever, and he had already taken the maximum for the day.

Sometimes he just wanted to tear his hair out for the ways his mind worked and his body responded. As much as he wanted to quit bouncing up and down or force himself to do an entire homework assignment in one sitting, he just couldn't make himself, no matter how hard he tried. He thought there was just something wrong with his brain. That his wires were crossed or something. He would get so wired that sometimes he needed to step outside of the classroom to take a breath and a lap, otherwise he would go crazy sitting for an hour straight.

Nate rocked side to side in his chair, and this time there was no squeaking. He held a triangle of sandwich in his left hand and his text book in the right while pacing back and forth in his room, swaying his hips to the jingle for the car commercial that he could hear in the other room. He took a big bite of sandwich and snapped his textbook closed with finality. After six little sessions of history homework, he was finally done.