Freefall ✓

10 | garfield

It was a particular assignment by Madame Deschamps that sat on my mind as I set foot onto the school lawn, approaching Audrey. She was sitting on the grass alone, save for the company of a thick book and a whole grain sandwich that I was 99% sure was spread with peanut butter. Don't ask me how I knew.

Her hair was up in one ponytail, its color more distinctive than ever today— the color of a freshly roasted chestnut, taken straight from the woodland fire on a crisp Autumn morning. She wore skinny jeans and a loose T-shirt with Garfield and the quote "Is it Friday yet?" imprinted on the front. A mood indeed. 

I loved how her choice of clothing reflected her indifferent attitude towards what anyone would think about her.

"Whatcha reading?" I asked her, skipping the greetings, courtesies and whatever other blah-blahs and rules that starting conversations had.

Her head perked up. After contemplating me for a second, she just returned her gaze to the book and took another bite of her sandwich. Seemingly, my appearance didn't interest her in the least. "A book," was all she said, full-mouthed.

No, really? 

"I can see that."

"Then why're you asking?" 

"You're so mean." 

She breathed out a half-suppressed chuckle, still chewing. "Agh, come on. Maybe blunt, but not mean." She turned the page of her book and I took it as my cue to read its title. Cloud Atlas. Haven't heard of that in my life, to be frank.

I settled into the welcoming arms of the grass, lying back on my elbows.

"Is that your lunch? A peanut butter sandwich?" 

She hummed and nodded in response, not lifting her eyes off the novel. "Want me to get you anything from the cafeteria?"

"Oh, no thanks," she put her book down and swallowed. "How did you know it's peanut butter though?"

I shrugged, almost imperceptibly. "Smells."

"Well, you sure do have an acute olfactory sense, huh?"

"It's peanut butter we're talking about. I can smell it from within a thousand miles."

"You're also a peanut butter lover?" she reached her hand out and gestured for me to 'high five'. I slapped it, feeling a jolt of electricity at the contact. Her palm was warm and frail. I wanted to intertwine my fingers with it, to feel the dulcet warmth it radiated; but forced myself to ignore the impulse.

"Where's your curly-haired friend today?" I decided to bring up since I was genuinely curious. This was the first time I saw Audrey alone at school.

She narrowed her eyes in puzzlement. "How do you know I have a curly-haired friend?"

"She's visible to the human eye," I remarked. "Well, except for today."

She shook her head but didn't hold back the chuckle. "What about you 'Mr. Popular'? Where are your friends?"

"I asked you first."

She took yet another bite from the sandwich. "She's the photography club president. There's some event today she's chairing."

"Your friend's got to be cool. I've heard a lot about that photography competition today, people are all hyped up."