"All good is hard. All evil is easy. Dying, losing, cheating, and mediocrity is easy. Stay away from easy."
~Scott Alexander
➳♀♁➳
"And the matchbox in the story represents... what, class?"
My English teacher, Mrs. Seamore, stands at the front of the room, a bored look on her face. I shift in my desk, turning my phone around in my fingers.
"Yes, that's right," she continues when no one answers. "It stands for oppression."
I click my phone on. No messages. I flip it around some more.
The kid behind me kicks my desk. A few noisy students yell from the hallway. Mrs. Seamore glares at the door. The clock ticks the time away.
I check my phone. Still no messages.
My fingernail chips away at a deep scratch in the wooden top of the desk I'm sitting at. Someone carved an eloquent "your mom sucks shlongs" into it in sharp, pointed letters.
Oh, high school.
The sun is shining, bright and warm, through the windows lining the far wall, and the students nearest to them stare, daydreaming.
A few random scribbles are noted on the whiteboard in the front of the classroom. I bite my lip. Class has to be almost over, I think, checking the time on my phone. When I click it on, disappointment seeps in when I see that there are - still - no new messages.
I click it open and read.
Oliver: I had fun at the fair. Thanks for an awesome day, Sorry.
Me: Eh, it was okay.
Oliver: Shoot... I thought for sure you had felt the magic too.
Me: I mean... it was okay. Your personality is a bit mediocre.
Oliver: Hmm. I knew I should have shown you my driving skills in the bumper cars
Me: I'm sure that really would have wowed me.
Oliver: Alas, it is too late. I missed my shot. You probably already deleted me from your memory.
Me: You'll find someone some day - someone who appreciates your bleak exterior
Oliver: I'm so hurt. Most girls love my exterior.
Me: That is truly shocking. What are they thinking??
Oliver: Go on another date with me.
Me: My mom taught me to say "please" when requesting something.
And he hadn't yet responded.
Why are you so nervous? I ask myself.
Before I can even think of answering, the bell rings, a shrill acoustic belting from the sound system.
I shove my notebook and pencil back into my backpack and follow the crowd of teenagers out the door. This close to summer, no one's paying any attention at all to the homework assigned, or the monotone voices of the teachers. Even the freshmen have senioritis.
The seniors graduate in three days, leaving the rest of us with a week left of school after that.
"Hey, Sky," a deep voice calls as I walk past it. I turn, interrupting the flow of traffic. It's the cute senior guy from my Marketing class, Patrick Haw. He smiles widely, a sparkle in his dark blue eyes, and hollers as he walks backwards down the hallway, "You're coming to my party Friday night, right?"
I grin, "Wouldn't miss it!"
It's the annual Seniors-Are-Done-With-School-So-Everyone-Get-Wasted party. I went last year when I was going through my rebellious party phase. The phase never really stopped, I guess, but I definitely went out less.
I'll go if Lina and Cora do, I decide. Or if Oliver does, my brain adds as an afterthought.
An elbow to the rib causes me to whip to my left with an "Ow." Park gives me a cheesy smile and merges next to me in the flow of students.
"I'm famished," he says, throwing an arm around my shoulders. "I'm praying the lunch menu has pizza today."
I smirk. "I'm just praying it doesn't serve that rancid meatloaf from last week."
He winces. "Yeah, that was rough. Still getting over that one, if you know what I mean," he says, patting his stomach.
"Gross," I laugh as I shrug his arm off me. I give him a side glance as we walk down the hall. He walks with a laid back, cocky attitude, a constant grin on his face. We haven't talked about what almost happened at the beach a week ago - how he almost kissed me. I haven't even really let myself think about it.
He turns to meet my eyes and I glance down quickly, so he doesn't see me staring.
Park is my best friend, I remind myself. Park, who I grew up loving like a brother, could not possibly want to be more than that, could he?
I shake the thought from my mind as we all flow through the cafeteria doors, entering a room lined with rows upon rows of tables. My flip flops smack against the linoleum as I head to the back corner, Park trailing me. We pass groups of screaming teenagers, a few couples making out, and a kid strumming a cello. The noises of high school.
Lina's red hair is a beacon that guides me in the direction of my friends. The table is crowded, only two chairs left in the middle for Park and I.
"Hey Sky!" Cora yells as we approach the table, and Park fist bumps a few guys as he heads to his seat. I dump my bag next to mine and plop down.
"School is so pointless," I sigh.
Cora nods and rolls her eyes from across the table, swirling a perfect lock of blonde hair around her finger. "Today in Monroe's, we sat and talked about toothpaste. Toothpaste." She rolls her eyes again. "Like puh-leeze, if you're going to waste my time, can we at least talk about something interesting, like Beyoncé having twins, or something?"
Cora nods in agreement, sipping from a soda can. "I fell asleep in first and third hour. Summer, please come faster."
The table wobbles and I look down at the end, where two jersey-clad boys just finished an arm wrestle.
"Screw you, Red," Kyle, our school's running back, chides. He just lost to wrestling star, Justin Young. "Come on - again. Best two out of three."
"So, Skylar," Cora starts, leaning forward with her elbows on the table and chin in her hands. "how's Olly Olly Oxenfree?"
I blush and look down. I hadn't told my friends about the memory from last night, or the realization that I was indeed falling for the mischievously handsome Oliver. Cora would have a field day with both facts.
"He's probably doing just dandy," I say. "I don't know, it's been a few days since the fair."
She gives me a look. "Well, when are you seeing him again?"
I give her one back. "Not sure, Mrs. Nosy. What's with the interrogation?"
She grins, dipping a spoon into a carton of yogurt. "I knew it," she whispers triumphantly.
The granola bar I'd opened was half way to my mouth when Cora pointed at my face and bellowed, "You like him!"
"Shhh!" I grumble, grabbing her hand and pushing it down, glancing around the room for anyone who might have heard. Several faces turn in my direction and I smile, mouthing "sorry."
"Stop yelling," I growl at her. "The entire planet doesn't need insight to my love life."
Cora swoons. "Oh my god. You said the "L" word." The smile on her face is so wide it threatens to split her face in half. "You're in it deep, Sky."
I shoot daggers at her head. "I'm not "in" anything, we're just talking."
I turn when Park pokes me. He's standing, about to head to the lunch line. "You want anything?" he asks, brows raised expectedly.
I think for a moment, thankful to him for changing the subject. "I'm really craving a bag of Cheetos."
He grins and walks away, stopping for a moment to talk to a friend from his track team.
Cora opens her mouth like she's about to continue the previously scheduled viewing of "Let's Embarrass Skylar," when Lina gasps.
"Oh my god," she mutters under her breath. My attention shifts from Cora to her, and she turns her body towards me. "Don't look now," she starts to say, to which I respond by immediately scanning the room. "Skylar!" She grabs my chin and forces it downward before I can see anything. "What part of don't look don't you understand?"
"Apparently all of it," I mumble in response, pulling my face free of her hand. "What is it?" I try to peek around the lunch room out of the corner of my eye, but I see nothing out of the ordinary.
Then Cora gasps from across the table. "Over by the lunch line," she says. "He's back."
I turn, and he's the first thing I lay my eyes on. The first person I see.
I feel an awful pang in my chest and I want to slice my very heart out. Don't feel that, I command it.
My pulse quickens and I immediately feel my hands start to sweat. I slide my palms on the tops of my jeans, an almost panicky claustrophobia setting in.
"Sky?" Cora probes. My eyes locked on him, I don't see my two best friends exchange a worried glance. I feel a hand on my arm, but the pressure of it doesn't register through the fog that's seeped into my brain.
"I didn't think he'd actually come back," I murmur. Memories flash before my eyes. First date, first kiss, first time we said "I love you."
Part of me had erased him from existence. Part of me, the part I suppressed, had missed him in a way only a horribly deranged person can.
I blink, trying to make him go away, hoping that if I closed my eyes he'd just disappear.
But he didn't. He was real. My monster.
Back with his fur, his fangs, and his fury.
Josh.
"I have to go," I announce suddenly, my legs picking me up without directions to do so. Without my consent, my arms are grabbing my backpack, and my body is twisting, moving, running to get out of the room.
The pressure in my chest pulses like a second heart.
"Skylar!" Someone yells after me, but my head is down, my feet are blurry appendages before me, and I'm out of the room.
Every noise feels like it's coming to me from underwater. My breathes come in quick succession.
I blink, look up, and I'm outside. I'm in the parking lot. I'm in front of a car.
I jingle my car keys in my hand but I know they won't work. Not on this vehicle. This one's not mine.
Before I know what I'm doing, my fist is wrapped tightly around the ridged edges of the key and I'm pulling it along the pretty, black exterior of the pretty, black Range Rover. My fingers turn white, they're clenched so hard. The metal caves in, paint peeled away from the scratch I've made along the entire passenger side.
I blink. My eyes focus. I see the scar, the mark of anger and hurt sliced across a car worth three times more than mine.
Shit, Sky, what have you done.
And then I turn, look back towards the school, at the boring brick outside and the empty, vapid inside, and smile.
"Whoops."
No one cheats on Skylar Lane and gets away with it.
My phone rings. I smile when I read the Caller ID.
"Hello?" I answer.
"Meet me at the intersection between Rivers Street and Waterson," he says. And then he hangs up.
I look back at the school, then at the misdemeanor I just committed, and then I skip away, deeper into the parking lot, a satisfied grin on my face.
So much for 5th period, I think as I get into my car. Pulling out of the lot, I calculate the fastest route towards the only person I feel like seeing, and drive off towards my Cuddle Buddy.
It was time that Application went to good use. As the saying goes, when life gives you a hot boy, make baetorade.
➳♀♁➳
I see his motorcycle before I see him.
My car rumbles to a stop as I pull it off the side of the road, parking behind Oliver's bike. The road is the passageway between Helaci and the small town north of us, a virtually empty stretch except for on holidays and certain weekends. Lined with forests, there's nothing but green for miles in all directions.
I twist the key, the engine stops, and I get out of the car. The door closes with a swift "thud," as I step towards Oliver's empty motorcycle. I scan the area, but he's nowhere to be found.
"Oliver?" I ask into the wind. When I don't get an answer, I repeat his name again, louder.
I blink. "Where the hell did he go?"
And then I hear a soft laugh from above. My head tilts back and my arm comes up to shield my eyes from the sun.
Oliver's in a tree.
"Hey there!" He yells down. "How's the weather down there?"
I grin. What an idiot.
Oliver is crouched atop a wide tree branch that stretches out across the road. The forest is filled with pine trees and maples, birch trees and aspens. They all reach high into the sky, having been there for hundreds of years. Standing beneath them is like standing at the feet of a giant's army. Oliver plucks a leaf from a neighboring branch and drops it. It sweeps to the ground like a green feather, falling slowly.
"Whatcha doing up there?" I ask.
"Oh, you know," he starts, looking from one end of the road to the other, "just waiting for this one girl to show up."
I look in the direction I came from. "Hmm, yeah I don't see anyone coming."
He frowns and makes a face. "Shit. She was really hot, too."
I cross my arms and grin. "Sorry she stood you up, dude. She sounds like a bitch."
He peeks over the edge of the branch, eyes staring into mine. Time stops and speeds ahead all at once. Even twenty feet up, I can still see the captivating shade of his eyes.
"You ready to go on our second date?" He asks.
I give him a pointed look. "As long as it's not in that tree, I'm game."
He laughs, stands up - high above the ground on a branch six inches thick - and saunters to the base of the tree.
Scared of heights, I can barely watch him. "If you fall," I warn, "I'm not scraping you off the pavement."
He disappears to the other side of the tree and yells, "Are you still afraid of heights?"
I smirk, remembering the night at the party when we climbed to the roof. "A fear of heights is completely unreasonable if you refuse to fall," I say, repeating his words back to him.
Oliver steps from behind the tree, having climbed down the other side. He brushes a twig from the hem of his gray Pink Floyd t-shirt.
"Why are you always wearing band tees?" I ask, motioning towards his shirt.
He looks down, like he's seeing the shirt for the first time. "Cause I look damn good in them." I laugh and shove his arm.
"You're so full of shit," I start to say, but he catches my hand and holds it pressed to chest. His eyes darken by at least three shades.
"Music," he says. "It's full of life." He taps a beat onto the back of my hand with the fingers that hold it to his chest. "It's got a pulse, just like we do. It finds the words to express what we can't."
I look down, at our entwined fingers. I can feel his heart beat and the warmth of his skin under the thin, cotton material of his shirt.
"Music falls under my top five reasons-to-live list," Oliver finishes. Then he drops my hand, walks past me, and hops on his bike. I stand, unsure of what to do.
He clears his throat from behind me. "So, uh, you gonna stand there all day contemplating my insightful words, or are you gonna get on my bike?"
I'll get on your di -- "Yeah, I'm coming," I say, turning around and stepping towards him. I stop when I'm directly in front of the motorcycle, reminiscing of the last time I'd ridden it - how my hair flew in the wind and the humming contraption gave the allusion that we were flying. I want to experience it again. I look straight into Oliver's eyes and say, "But I'm driving."
A slow grin slides over his face and he shakes his head, taken aback. "My, my," he starts. "Skylar Lane -" a shiver tumbles down my back when he says my name "- you're going to be my greatest adventure yet."