Yellow (editing)

Paint Me a Maroon Me

The following Saturday, Orenda's honey voice drifted through my closed window at 1PM, and that resulted in me opening the window and actually helping her over the window sill (which wasn't something that happened very often) because she claimed that she was tired from listening to me all the time. That made lots of sense since I hadn't talked to her since Monday.

But prior to that, Egan had called me bright and early in the morning (6:14AM, to be precise), and I ran into the kitchen for the phone before my parents could wake up and start complaining about my choice in friendships.

"Hey Finn," Egan said, sounding very awake.

"What?" I grumbled.

"Wanna go for a run together?"

"Are you... are you crazy."

"No," he replied, still sounding awake.

"That wasn't a question," I said, deadpan.

"Come on! Let's go!" He practically shouted and I scratched the nape of my neck, frustrated.

"Why?"

"We had friends over for Good Friday yesterday. So, I had a big dinner, and I just thought I'd call you to come with me."

"Egg, you're very fit. Good night." I hung up, and the phone rang again, almost immediately. 

I picked it up.

"Okay, what's with you and hanging up on people?" Egan joked. "Let's just go! I'm coming to your house in two minutes, see you."

"I have a haircut appointment today," I negotiated.

"When? 7 o'clock in the morning?"

"No, eleven," I mumbled.

"You wimp. I'm coming and you'd better be ready."

"I'm not a wimp. I'll be ready." 

He hung up.

I quickly changed into some running-appropriate clothing, grabbed my white cane, and put on my glasses; by the time I was slowly putting on my shoes, Egan rang the doorbell about a million times and I unlocked the door, shushing him in the process.

"You're going to wake up my parents!" I spat at him.

"Sorry, man. Cool kicks."

"Thanks. I really like the colour."

He groaned and we slipped out of the house so quietly it was as if we had stolen something. Egan handed me a nutrition bar of some sort and a bottle of water whilst explaining why I should eat bigger meals after a workout to minimize muscle pain and etc, etc. He had always been much too on top of things - workout wise. It was kind of sad for the reason he started working out and going to the gym and stuff, and that was because all the kids in his middle school would make fun of him for being overweight. Obviously 'fat jokes' with racial slurs combined by sixth graders could've beaten a little kid to the ground just by hearing it once, and the way Egan explained it to be, it happened almost everyday. So one day he ate less, and less, and less; and started running and running and running.

When Egan started running I sort of ran with him, even though it was really hard for me to do (blind-wise). But I still did try, and there was a point in my life when we would race each other from one end of the neighbourhood to another over and over again (plus ab and arm workouts). Needless to say, during that time I felt pretty good.

We ate at the porch steps, and I almost fell asleep right then and there. I had began to become extremely sleep deprived ever since St. Hemling, since I had a whole lot of homework and studying, much more that when Barry was my tutor. School was utterly boring and half of the reason was because Marybeth and I hadn't been talking much, since we literally only had one class together, even though I ate lunch with her occasionally. The other times I ate alone in the echoed hallway, which didn't bother me much knowing that no one could see me all by myself.