The Hereafter

Chapter 3

People dotted the yard in front of the Georgian red-brick school building. A wooden slatted bell tower sat centrally, and perched on top was a polished copper weather-vane of a Lobster. The backbone of the town's economy was fishing, helping to supply most of the seafood restaurants on the Eastern Seaboard. But more embarrassingly, the lobster doubled as the school's mascot, Larry.

A few minutes later, Charlie pulled in, attempting to park. Making myself comfortable, I angled my body to see what was to come next. She was a terrible driver but remarkably worse when it came to parking. I was honestly surprised she had ever passed her test; her car showed signs almost everywhere of her inability to drive it.

"Hey, Charlie," I called out, jumping off the hood. "Never park next to my car, okay?" I nodded once over to hers. It was parked horizontally, ignoring the confines of the square white box.

"I'm a good driver," she mumbled, glancing over her shoulder; she tutted quietly.

"Did your stalker make another appearance?" She nudged me with a smile.

"No," I grumbled back. The unease that had descended on me the night before still hadn't left, but I knew full well Charlie would not afford it any attention. The strange thing was I still felt on edge. For the fifth time today, I gave in to the urge to check over my shoulder.

Walking through the double doors, the halls echoed with slamming lockers. Unruly seniors participated in their own type of end-of-semester shenanigans. Although we had a month until graduation, all credits were in, and all assignments were completed, leaving the students to make good on every last rite of passage they had left.

Charlie glanced down at her watch. "We are so unbelievably late; it's not even funny."

"We're always this punctual," I said with a grin. "Catch you later?"

She nodded and then made a dash down the hall in the opposite direction.

Five minutes late for class, I strolled in to find the room already bustling with students. In the absence of our teacher, discarded pencils and crumpled paper littered the floor. Long rows of wooden desks led up to a central one at the front of the class, all etched with the scribbles of bored students. I longed to be in a more modern school with air-conditioning in times like these. Our school was one of a handful of period buildings in town that were deemed historical and prevented any structural changes to maintain their original appearance. Our classroom resembled an old factory, with its exposed brick walls meeting parquet flooring that looked sand-blasted from many years of use.

Words alone would not have expressed my surprise when my eyes became fixed on the only available seat left. The person occupying the one next to it was the boy from the bleachers.

Whether I wanted to admit it or not, the same feeling of familiarity hit me. Unlike the night before, he now wore black-rimmed glasses that didn't hide the piercing blue of his eyes. His dark-brown hair was styled off his face but curled around his ears in desperate need of a trim. Fidgeting in his chair, he pulled on his collar as if the material were trying to choke him.

As soon as he spotted me, he picked up his cell phone.

Stopping beside the desk, there were two options, as far as I saw it. I could ask him outright if we had met before or ignore him while I pretended not to gawk. If I had a quarter, I would have flipped it and let fate decide, but I didn't.

Sliding into the seat next to him, his knee bounced, making the whole table jerk. Sunlight cascaded through the large windows. The oppressive heat from the day before was already returning in force. Lack of sleep from the previous night made my eyes sting. My eyelids became heavy, and I was on the verge of a daydream coming on. To distract myself, I curiously glanced over at the boy. He visibly stiffened and scrolled quicker on his phone without even turning around.