Lines in the Ice

Chapter 18

“Well, he is not going to be here for the rest of the year. Instead I am taking over for him. My name is Mr. Landor as well, he is my father.” I looked the new Mr. Landor over. He definitely looked like Mr. Landor’s son. He also looked vaguely familiar.

“Do you have a brother?”

“Why yes, he’s in college. Goes to the local one.”

“Oh,” was all I said. I must’ve seen his brother one of the times I’d gone to Michael’s dorm. I pondered the thought as I sat down.

I didn’t focus very much in Music. It was one of the very few days I decided to stay in the classroom. Tod came rushing in a little after I did. Mr. Landor didn’t give either of us a warning. Must be a new teacher thing or something.

As I was about to start playing a piece by Mozart Tod started to poke me. I shrugged him off until he got so annoying as to make me slap him on the arm. He instantly stopped and instead stared at me. When the bell rang I jumped to the door. For once, I was the first one out of the room.

Before lunch I stopped at my locker. I banged my head against it once, earning looks from the people walking in the hall. I straightened up and looked at my locker. Like most of the other lockers, mine needed to be repainted. The paint was flaking off more and more each day. I could start to see some blue from when the lockers were painted before.

I chipped a little more of the paint of with my thumb and then put in my combination. I missed my number by one and punched the locker. I winched in pain. So maybe punching lockers isn’t the best thing. Truth be told, I punch my locker quite a bit. Each time I get the same result; a very hurt hand. I put my combination in again. The locker door swung open. A small note fell to the ground. I bent down and picked it up. “I’m really sorry, Tod.” was what the note said. Tod likes to put notes in my locker, doesn’t he? I crumpled it up in my hand and threw it in the nearest trashcan. He should stop saying sorry, it wasn’t his fault.

I dumped my books into the locker and slammed it shut again. I could faintly hear the chatter from the lunch room. My stomach gave a loud growl. I hadn’t managed to get breakfast this morning. Michael woke me up, pushed me in the bathroom so that I could get ready, then drove me to school. I had begged him to stop at Dunkin Donuts, but that didn’t happen. The butt kept on driving and laughing at my misery.

The lunch line wasn’t very long. Unfortunately I had spent so much time with my locker that lunch was nearly over. People lounged at tables and talked loudly with their friends. They were serving nachos. I got the chips and cheese, deciding to stay away from the ground up meat that may not even be beef. Why are school lunches so disgusting?

There weren’t many open tables. I looked for one I could sit at. For some reason there seemed to be at least one person at all the tables. My eyes caught the girl from art. I had texted her recently on Michael's phone. She was really nice. Her name was Brooklyn. Our gaze met at the same time. She waved me over. There were a couple other girls sitting at her table. I awkwardly sat down next to Brooklyn. “Sorrys,” erupted from the girls. I really wish that people would stop saying sorry for something that wasn’t their fault. At first it was nice, but now it’s unnecessary. Bianca should be the one apologizing.

Students poured out of the school. I moved along with the masses towards the parking lot. Michael was going to pick me up today. I was happy that I wouldn’t have to walk to the rink. He promised that he would skate with me today. I plan on racing him. The hockey players swear that he use to be the best of the best. I’m going to see if Michael still has it. It’s hardly fair that he’s watched me skate all this time and he doesn’t anymore. I wonder what made him stop?