Time After Time

7

|Chapter 7|

≡ Mackenzie Ryder ≡

I breathe in the crisp autumn air as I make my way home, slinging my messenger bag higher on my shoulder. A quick look over my shoulder tells me that I’m still alone out here. Thank God I managed to get to my locker quickly and slip out; it’s so goddamned loud in the hallways that you can’t even hear yourself think. I feel that this quiet solitude suits me better and I deliberately slow my pace, wanting to enjoy this walk—cutting through the field—more. After all, once I get back home there’s gonna be Quentin and Mom all in my face. Not that they annoy me, but some peace and quiet would be wonderful right now. This is the first time in all of today that I’ve actually been alone. As in, with no people within a ten-feet radius of me.

Feet slowly move across the grass, shoes sinking a bit into the mushy soil with each step. For a second day, I think I did all right. Today’s been extremely uneventful, but still, I feel a bit good about myself. I mean, it’s already pretty goddamned hard to make friends transferring here in grade eleven and then there’s the ugly fact that even if I do end up having some friends I probably won’t recognize them the next day.

More steps. I can see the main road, the sidewalk, more clearly now.

Maybe I have made a friend already, if I can call him that. Cam certainly seems like he wants to get to know me, and he’s said so himself. Even though I’ve barely seen him all day, just said hi in the halls. Unless he was just playing around with me. But I can’t help but think of that nametag, the sticky note. It was such a small detail, a small act, but it just somehow goddamn sticks in my brain. Cam Fairchild.

Beyond the OxfordAcademy football field, there’s a clump of grassy area. I have no idea if it belongs to the school or not. I step onto it, looking back to see the first of the students slowly making their way outside in all their groups and cliques, and I feel even worse, walking home all by myself. I don’t even have my own goddamned car to drive back home in.

The land slopes upwards, almost seamlessly merging with the sidewalk amid dying grass and clusters of ugly dirt, like bald spots on the field. My first step onto the sidewalk leaves a clear brown size six footprint onto the asphalt, and so does my second as my other foot gets on as well. I ignore the filth, continuing to walk down Stonewall Avenue, my walking now accompanied by the wind whooshing past me as cars speed down the road.

I haven’t even been on the main road for a minute when a voice calls me.

“Aye!”

Whirling around, I find no one coming up to me from the field, and I frown, confused. I don’t recognize the voice—but why would anyone be looking for me? Turning again, I find a girl in the Oxford uniform jogging up to me, bag bulging with the weight of what appears to be books, and three others the size of dictionaries in her arms. Her long hair flies back like a honey-colored ribbon, cheeks red with exertion. Surprised at the sight of her, I stop walking and just wait, watching her. She stops when she’s within three feet of me.

“Hey,” she says breathlessly, panting a little. “You’re…Mackenzie, right? Ryder?”

“Um, yeah, that’s me.”

“Great!” she transfers all the weight of her books onto one arm to hold out one and shake my hand. “I’m Tara-Lee Blake. I saw you in music class, but I never got to introduce myself. Anyway, if you’re wondering why the hell I’m randomly coming up to you and everything…I’m a friend of Cam’s.”

Cam. Oh. Tara-Lee gives me what feels like my fortieth once-over today, large brown eyes quickly moving from my hair, lingering on my face, down my uniform and to my simple black Vans, which are now caked with mud around the bottoms. Then she comes back to my face with a smile.