The Boy who Broke the Rules

13

Every Saturday morning, I'd hear the lawnmower next door, but I'd just put my earphones on and go back to sleep. But sometimes, my willpower wasn't strong enough so I ended up watching him anyway. The cat came back all the time now and Noah always fed it. 

This made me like him more. If only he was cruel to the cat, then I'd have a reason to dislike him. Or maybe if he had bad odor or bad breath, or a wart on the tip of his nose...

Was this what it felt like obsessing on someone? Oh God, I need therapy.

I don't think you can afford it.

I was walking down to Mrs. Garland's office to get the keys for the shed when I felt a prickle on the nape of my neck. I stood still, looking up. Here, the ceilings were higher than the rest in the building and the hallways were longer and narrower. It would have been a boring long walk but for the paintings displayed on the walls. They were all glorious, but what grabbed my attention was the painting on top of the doorway. It was a clearing.

It was a painting of my secret clearing.

No one was supposed to know about it. The only one I'd seen there was Noah...

Noah...

I walked closer it, trying to search for a signature, but it was so high up in the ceiling that I couldn't make out the writing.

In all the times I had helped Mrs. Garland, I had never been to her office. She was a gardening teacher as well as a part-time guidance counsellor. She usually gave me the keys to the shed at lunch break on Fridays, but she said she'd miss school tomorrow because she had a doctor's appointment, and asked me to meet her in her office today. I knocked.

"Ma'am, it's me Parker."

"Parker, come on in, sweetheart."

"Hi," I said, waving at her.

She was sitting in a lounge chair, looking comfortable and relaxed, a novel between her hands and a blanket on her lap. Her glasses were sitting on top of her nose, looking like they were in danger of falling off. She didn't move from her position when I came in, just waved her hand for me to take a seat.

Quietly, I sat like a lady in one of her big chairs, but the chair was one of those big old chairs that swallowed your butt when you sit in them, so I ended up leaning back, almost sprawling.

So much for sitting like a lady. Your mom will be so proud.

Mrs. Garland didn't look like she was going to be interrupted anytime soon, so I looked around her office without appearing too obvious.

Her office smelled like a garden, vases overfilled with autumn flowers such as asters, pink turtleheads, sneezeweed, and mums as colourful and jolly as a rainbow.

Unlike my mom, she loved clutter, and her office was decorated with the things she collected: salt and pepper shakers, angel figurines, pictures and drawings and letters from her students over the years. The Furoshiki my mom wrapped her cookies in were tacked on the wall.

Sometimes, my mom wrapped the cookies she baked in a Furoshiki, a traditional wrapping cloth in Japan using different kinds of fabrics like silk, cotton, and nylon. She usually only used this for big orders as a complimentary gift for her customers, but for Mrs. Garland, it was a definite.

I was so distracted and almost missed it if I blinked, but there on the wall, among the other art work, was a lovely sketch of my clearing. Without thinking, I walked up to it and looked at it closer. Surrounded by the trees was a woman sitting by a small bonfire, her back turned and her long hair swayed in the breeze. I felt a little squeeze in my heart as I recognized what the sketch clearly portrayed: Love.