Intertwined

Chapter Eight

Before the end of the day, Lyall and I set the date for Saturday. He'd given me a prelude, insisting that come the end of our date, I'd have all the information needed to make the correct decision. I agreed but didn't tell him that no matter what, I'd already made up my mind.

Lyall sat next to me in Algebra but he didn't talk, nor did he walk me from class like he used to. It'd been a part of his new judgment. Everything was balanced on Saturday, balanced on my decision. I only followed this new rule to give him the benefit of the doubt. If he really believed that I waited to make a decision, he wouldn't object to whatever it was.

I couldn't focus in any of my classes. My train of thought had too many members transporting. Overcrowded. The volleyball tryouts were taking place after school today, but at seven rather than directly after the bell. I needed to call someone, secure a ride, but I didn't. The anxiety, and all conscious thought for that matter, washed away when Lyall walked past my English class before lunch. He looked so much better, happier, greying skin notwithstanding.

"Okay guys," Mr. Baker announced, pulling me out of the indulgence in my problems, "Now, for fun, if you look at the moon tonight, you'll see the moon is at waxing gibus, and the full moon at the end of the month will blow your tiny, undeveloped minds. The difference from this Friday to next will be astounding. I want you all to moon bathe tonight. Look at the moon and experience the absolute change it will have by next Friday!" I only barely heard him, "It's going to be a supermoon." I stuffed my head back into my notebook, going back to the page with the horrified woman. The lines and smudges worked together for the piece to make sense.

The tryouts didn't exhaust me as much as I thought they would. I assumed that the other players had some kind of experience on the court, but no, they didn't. My acceptance wasn't up for debate. With a pat on my back and the smiles coming from my soon-to-be teammates, I realized my mistake. When I pushed the heavy double doors out of my way, the blue from earlier turned to a deep violet. Stars glinted and the moon stared at me with her full face, just barely off from the center. I'd forgotten to secure a ride home. I could call Rosie, or even Mason, but I could figure it out. I'd taken the bus route, I knew the way. No need to bother them. Just two rights and a left. I couldn't get lost.

And then, I got lost. I tried to remember if it was two rights and a left, or two lefts and a right. Or had it been left then right then left again? The fringe of trees I walked next to repeated themselves. I tried to find something of difference, but that only made it worse because I'd gotten away from it and deeper into somewhere else. I turned back in an attempt to find the school and restart, but when doing so, I found myself at a dead end. Clearly I went the wrong way. The moon blanched in the black lagoon, its light assisting in the adjustment of my eyes to my black surroundings. I'd been sure it hadn't been midnight yet, the moon didn't set her place in the middle of the sky. I'd walked for hours now and Rosie had to be worried. Even if I wanted to text her, like I planned to a mile and a half ago, my phone's black screen blinked, a cry for its charger.

When I passed another tree trunk that looked like a giraffe, I decided that that comparison didn't help me find a checkpoint, all the tall plant life looked like giraffes. I had seen several trunks that mimicked that same shape. I became more and more disorientated as I continued to walk. Somewhere within that time, a headache began its subtle pounding. A strain starting at the back hemisphere of my head.

Frustrated and slightly scared, I pushed past a small gap between two thin trunks. Maybe there would be an exit somewhere though here, like cutting through a cornfield rather than trudging around it. It'd been too late when I decided the cut through had been a bad idea. Trunks and shrubs cultivated everywhere, no path to lead me back to the street lamps. I blinked several times, adjusting to the decreased light. The disorientation and pressuring headache increased the further I walked, and still, I continued. Part of me screamed to turn around, find the road and figure out how to get home, while the other half, one that didn't feel like me, urged forward. An impossible, unrecognizable, almost intimidating part.