The bus almost breathed as it sang over the pavement toward my school. The rain tickled the windows, a kind of greeting, and all the students tried to ignore it, indifferent, seemingly, to life in general. For most, life seemed to be something of a joke. I had to wonder if I had just been blessed with an excellent deck of cards. It struck me as strange that I should harbor such a positive outlook, when most surrounding me found sleep to be the highlight of their day. I could chalk it up to adolescence; perhaps I had merely skipped that "surly stage" that so many teens seemed to suffer from. However, it could be, too, that I had yet to experience true pain. Had I lived a sheltered life?
The bus sighed as it halted beside the sidewalk, just across the street from my rotting school. Built sometime in the sixties, the architecture was exactly the same, though it bore great signs of wear. The broken plumbing was the least of its many blemishes and you were apt to look up and see all the old wiring that had been there since my parents were kids. Missing tiles were a trifle here; funding was none existent.
It was to be a day like any other, or so I believed. The weather was displaying its usual host of grey clouds and frigid rain. People were gathered together in pods, blocking the hallways in their ignorance. My friends were rested up against our usual meeting place, where we convened every morning, an unspoken rule, but something was amiss.
Pressed up against my friend, Natalie, or Nat, as she preferred, was Kaitlyn, whose eyes were red and whose hair was especially disheveled. She was not crying now, but her voice was monotone, her face deadpan. Her eyes would not stray from her lap and her words came out as though they were being dragged from her.
Softly she murmured, "That's my life."
Nat blinked, unsure of what to say.
I frowned as I took my seat beside them. I was afraid to ask. Kate's pain was clear; I only wondered why.
"It's not your fault."
"It is," Kate insisted.
"It's not. My parents fight all the time, with or without my help. There was nothing you could do."
"But maybe I could have done more!" Her blue eyes were blue fire. "Maybe I could have made things easier for them. If I was just more responsible or better in school...if I could just be more, they might be happier."
"You want to talk about feeling like shit? I'd like to see my parents divorced. They don't see my future leading anywhere. But I'd like to think you've got a shot."
I never knew what to say when the sun went down. Of all my friends, Nat and Kate could be the unhappiest. Natalie could hide her despair better with a dramatic flair and a heart of steel; she betrayed little emotion, save for her winning smiles and careless demeanor. However, Kate wore her emotions unwilling out on her sleeve. She would not cry in front of you, but in every word there was a trace of pain. Within every gesture, there was indifference.
"What's happening?" My voice was small, reluctant. This was not something I could understand. I was only an intruder, and I felt as awkward as I ever had.
"Her parents got divorced." Natalie never hesitated.
"What?"
"Her mom left. Last night." Natalie hugged Kate closer, as if to take the sting away.
"They never showed any signs of it," Kate muttered. "I mean, they fought, sure. All parents fight. All couples fight. But never did they reach such a point...I hope she comes back."
"Whatever happens, it's not your fault, Kate." The words felt fake, somehow. What could they do?
Kate shrugged. "Maybe not. But perhaps I could have prevented it all the same. I didn't even see it coming. I was too caught up in my own stupid life to be bothered." She threw her phone, a small white device, which was scarred already from use. "Too busy wasting my time looking up memes."
"I waste my time...all the time."
"So do I," Nat said. "You're beating yourself up. Stop it."
I shook my head, slowly. "Do you want to be alone?"
Kaitlyn did not speak.
"Do you?" Nat pressed.
Kate shrugged. "I don't care. If you guys want to go to class, that's fine by me."
"That's not what I meant." I blushed. "It's up to you."
"Well, I don't care."
"Just go to class," Nat muttered, turning away from me. "I can see that you're anxious about being late."
She did not intend it as a snub, and it was true that I fretted over the time, but I had only asked my question for Kaitlyn's sake. As usual, I was useless at the best of times; I was powerless to cheer her. I was unable to remain. All I could do was stand there, a gaping statue.
When I came to the realization that I could do nothing, I left, reluctant. I pictured Kaitlyn's empty blue eyes as I walked toward my English class, and saw her parents fighting, in detail, as if from a dream. I could see her mother in my mind's eye, screaming; I could see her father slumped against the wall, begging her to return. I could see Kaitlyn alone, with no one. I shuddered. It all seemed to make sense somehow. It gave me a chill when I thought of it-of Kaitlyn, and how her life had ran parallel to a dream. Tucked away in my school bag was my tablet, where the dream was made real
"What a coincidence," I muttered, frowning. I somehow felt responsible, as though I had caused the Donnelly's to split, their relationship to melt away like ice on hot pavement.
I struggled to focus in English class. Kaitlyn's eyes were like the snow-pale, desolate and empty. I wanted to help her, and I wanted to be a comfort. I wanted to find her mother and persuade her to return. I wanted to reassure Kaitlyn that it would all be over soon; her mother could never leave her, if she only saw the look in those strange and haunted eyes.
Mr. Croft's voice droned on like the soft hum of my fan; I found my gaze travelling to the window, where the trees whistled in the wind. A spring storm was coming. The sky was a melancholy mass and there was a kind coolness to the air that trickled in through the partially open window. I found it refreshing. I found myself relaxing and within the hour I wanted to close my eyes. From that open window there came the soft scents of spring.
When the class finally ended, it was all I could do to stay awake. I barely paid attention in Mr. Lee's class, either; fractions could not hold my attention. Each integer became a story; each line was a part of Kaitlyn; each number was her eyes, which could do naught but weep.
It was with relief that I took my place beside my friends at lunch. Kaitlyn said very little as we ate. She was flicking through her phone, ignorant as Natalie tried to cheer our tiny table with a few clever puns. I was hardly attentive myself; I was doodling along the edges of a piece of lined paper, trying to decide what I might write about.
Those eyes were so cold, and so full of ice-how frigid they were, reflecting the chill within. The heart was glazed over with frost and from the eyes of blue I could see it, glittering.
"Whatcha' working on?" one boy asked, leaning toward my page with a grin. I vaguely recalled that his name was Cody.
"Nothing," I mumbled, crumpling the paper up. "School stuff."
"Oh. Why did you crumple it up? I'm sorry if I wasn't supposed to look."
"Oh, no. I just wasn't happy with it. My writing isn't very good when I'm tired." I slumped forward and massaged my temples as if to emphasize the point. In truth, I was a little fatigued.
"I feel you." Cody returned to his phone. I wondered if the latest iPhones were equipped with sticky glue, so that you could not put them down. I wondered, not for the first time, if I was the odd one for not being addicted.
"I'm going to class." Kaitlyn's quiet voice startled me.
"Okay." Natalie watched her leave, and then she was distracted again, entertaining herself with poking Cody who, for the most part, just went along with it.
The boy sighed, but not because of Nat. Sprawled before him were papers and books and Calculus galore. Largely ignored up until now, he was finally tackling the bulk of it, his forehead straining with every number he wrote. To me, the equations were about as comprehensible as hieroglyphics.
"I've yet to hear good things about Calculus."
Cody chuckled, the laughter of a broken man. "You don't know the half of it."
I lived a life of relative ease. For me, there was little to worry about. My parents fought, but they were together; my brother was troubled, but he managed to smile. With most of my anxiety revolving around the issues of others, it was not typical of me to be anything but bubbly. Yet today, I could feel anything but; I was somber, silent and sad. Kaitlyn's absence struck me all the more for the sole fact that class was not for half an hour. She was shying away from us, seeking solace for herself in an indifferent world. We could not help her.
My last two blocks dragged; three o'clock was a relief and I rushed home with gratitude. I had to do something-I had to clear my mind and think.
I flipped open my computer and waited impatiently for the introductions to pass. The words were fighting within the confines of my mind for freedom. When I was at last granted control, I opened Word without hesitation to set things right.
Laura waited patiently while the cold cell rang. For the third time she was trying to reach her mom. Her mother stared back at her, a picture on the screen and her only company. When she thought to hang up and try again, the photo disappeared, to be replaced by the sound of her mother's voice.
"Laura?" Mrs. Donnelly's voice was tight. "Sweetie?"
I cringed and altered the last portion of my piece.
"Laura, are you there?"
The girl could not speak for tears. She wanted to scream; she wanted to yell. She wanted to say that she was fine. Instead she released a shuddering breath.
"Look, dear...don't take it personally." Mrs. Donnelly paused. "Your father and I have our problems, but they're ours. Not yours. And it's nothing we can't work out. It was a stupid thing, a trivial thing. Your dad and are fixing this. I'm moving back in this weekend, once I've settled down."
"Mom." Laura's throat was too tight for words.
"We're going to fix this."
"Mom."
"I have to go now, Laurie. But you'll see me again on Saturday. I'll bring dinner. You'll see. It'll be like...the good old days."
Laura wondered what that meant. There were some things that would never be the same. Not everything could be fixed. No one could bring her loved ones back from the dead. No one could erase her terrible memories, so that they ceased to exist. Some scars were permanent.
"Honey?"
"Thank you, mom," the girl rasped. "See you soon."
"See ya."
Would Kaitlyn get the same chance as Laura? Would her mother see sense and return?
I thought of phoning Kaitlyn, or at the very least texting her. I wanted to reassure her that all would be fine now; her mother was returning and her parents were going to fix things. She did not have to trouble herself. Yet I smiled, despite myself. This was only a story. No amount of prettied words was going to fix whatever issues existed between the Donnelly's. A bizarre coincidence would not lead to a miraculous fix, all for Kaitlyn. She was beyond my help.
I contacted Nathan, asking if he would like to hang out the following day, but he declined. He confessed to some exhaustion and muttered that he would need his energy for a party at work. I could only wish him well. With naught else to do, I took down a worn novel from my shelf and lost myself in still more worlds greater than my own.