Trying To Endure

Chapter Thirty-Four

SONG: Dr. Dog - where'd all the time go

🌷

Derek Matthews

Two weeks elapsed. Gratefully, April hasn't self-harmed — to my knowledge, at least.

I hope she wasn't lying.

We connected a lot. For free periods, she'd meet me in the school's library and study whilst I read a book. I offered her novels from my bookshelf as they intrigued her. If not reading, I'd do Maths revision or help her in Psychology and we'd test each other's knowledge.

She decided to spend her revision hours on the rooftop. When I pop in, aware or unaware of her presence, I catch her sitting against a glass wall, on her phone, snuggled in a blanket, watching shows or reading a book or blatantly gaping at the clouds. It took five visits to comprehend the rooftop is her favourite escapism. It is such a daily routine between us — a tradition I strangely cherished — that whenever the door creaked open, she didn't glance, knowing it was always me.

"I bought takeaway," I often said. "Sri Lankan."

I started to love Sri Lankan meals and asked the chefs to cook them more often. Rolls, cutlets, kottu, hoppers (egg, definitely) are my favourites so far. Initially, April teased me — too fucking spicy, my mouth watered in awkwardness before I take a bite. To think it won't be an issue due to Japanese meals is foolish, wishful behaviour. As the days passed, I became accustomed to it. I grew fond of the spice.

She used to sit next to Aasvhi in Psychology. One lesson, she stalked to the empty seat beside mine and told the teacher this is her permanent seat from now on. Tanner would sit next to her right, so she is stuck in between us. She reads on her phone after finishing her tasks, or grabs my books neatly situated at the edge of the table and reads the first page or where I am on.

"I hate Maths," she groaned.

I looked up from my Japanese book. "Maths is fun when you know how to do it."

"Shut up," muttered Tanner.

She rolled her eyes. "You're just ridiculously smart."

"I am." I close the novel. "Do you want some help?"

"You know me so well." She leaned closer. "How the hell did you get 12.6% and I got ..." She blinked at her paper. "That?"

A quick analysis. "You didn't add these two."

She squinted at the figures on the table. "I was supposed to add them?" She slammed the past paper questions on the table and released a long, dramatic, frustrated sigh. She snatched her paper and scribbled, only for the ink to run out.

I pushed my case to her. "Just take the whole thing."

I help her with the Maths, she helps me with the word-essay questions.

Ten minutes into that lesson, April nudged my shoulder. "Wake up."

I glimpsed at her side profile. "What are you on about? I am awake."

She doesn't answer, instead gaped at the smartscreen. I scanned the classroom and finalised on Mr Ahmed. Shit. I wasn't paying attention.

Mr Ahmed chuckled. "You and your books, Derek."