Awkward

/ANTIPATHETIC/

~/•/~

/DETENTION/

"You're a free man, Turner."

I grab my bag, get up and leave.

~/•/

It's Friday and the afternoon is over because the sun is setting and has been for the past... well, I don't care!

The sight of the school is filtered with a dramatic orange— like something out of a cassette tape but the air is pleasant. I take a moment to breathe in my fresh, unfiltered freedom. It truthfully feels like a weight of a week's detention has been lifted off my shoulders. Oh wait, it has!

On my way to the fountain, I start dribbling my football on the path. There are a lot of students still in school this evening. Well, you know what they say: 'the more, the merrier!' I slalom through a small crowd blocking the path, even though they're in lower Years.

I flick the ball high over the head of somebody. I can't believe I didn't mess up the flick! I skip round a couple, attracting stares as I gain speed, spinning with the ball round a jealous foot, a little tap dancing to get past a challenger and then I send the ball into the goal!

Except there isn't a goal.

It's in the fountain water. My ball is in the fountain water.

I walk over to the fountain and there isn't any ball either.

And finally, I look around and there isn't anybody in school — but me.

ANYWAY!
It'll be 6:10 soon so it looks like I'm heading to the bench in the car park.

As I leave the fountain, a warm breeze whistles past me and I spin like a ballerina in tune. The breeze goes back and forth with my gawky, graceless technique as the contents of my bag confirm, shaking to a different rhythm altogether. It's only when I'm really really, really dizzy that I stop — and look.

The Tree of True Love is probably the furthest thing from the witch's office. Legend has it, Mrs. Saunders has no authority there so she avoids it like the plague. There isn't anything special about the tree itself though. It's your conventional green, puffy cloud on a stick except in the sunset lights, it looks so much more real; I can see every different orange-green leaf in a different light space and they're all making up this bundle of enchanting emerald stones magneted together, suspended over a torso of bulky brown wood fit to lift the sky.

And Julianna is under it.

Yes, I'm sure it's Julianna. I'm very sure. I have no doubt that Julianna is under the tree and she's alone. I know my head was in a different space just now but this is very real, I think.

Well, well.

I can't believe Alastair got her to go to The Tree. He has earned my respect.

Julianna is shining too, although a lot less. She's only going as far as the light leaks through the leaves let — but still, all of her is glistening with a satiny sheen. She's just sitting on the grass near the trunk, in her uniform. She's not a silhouette; she doesn't move, turn or sense; she isn't reading, playing with her hair or singing.

She's just sitting like the daughter of Time, playing with..

A phone.

Ugh! She's taking pictures!

"Good day," I say to the security guard.

"Okay, see you, Turner."

There aren't any cars in the car park and I see the bench, but before I head to it, I turn back to the guard.
"Oh, yes.. and umm there's somebody still inside of the gates using a mobile phone. Just wanted to make sure that's okay with you... cause... you know... it's kInD of against the rules, you know— and I'm from a week's detention so I know a thing or two abou—"