What We Used To Know

Three and a half weeks left of school. Only three and a half weeks.

Three and a half long weeks.

Exams were coming up; stress was creeping onto my shoulders and neck as I studied every night. Things happened so fast this year. Everything felt like a blur as I remembered the first day of school. The first day I’d walked to the new campus. The first day I watched the awkward way Oliver walked - that was before I knew his name though. That was when he was still Ten-Step, and I was still the girl he had never even looked at.

But time flies. Really, it does. I can feel it whizzing past my ear every time I blink.

Today was Monday morning, and it was just another day. I felt like I did every morning: rate tired. All I wanted to do was sleep in and forget about school. I didn’t want to do homework anymore. I didn’t want to go to class. I didn’t want to see people I’ll never talk to, people I’ll only ever watch. I didn’t want to go to school only to be harassed by Oliver. I hated it there now. I hated it almost as much as I hated him.

But I had to go. I couldn’t stay home and fake sick. I had priorities, and education was one of them. If I was going to go somewhere in life, I had to be educated. I realized that at a young age - once Jordan had decided to screw the system and go get high. He wasn’t going to go anywhere, and it broke my heart to know that. I always wanted to see what he could do one day. But now, he’s just another addict who won’t be going anywhere in life except for jail, rehab if he’s lucky.

The house was empty as usual, and I was out of there in less than half and hour after waking up. Maybe if I left early enough Oliver wouldn’t be walking out of his door only moments after I left my own house.

For once, I had the sidewalk to myself. Oliver was absolutely no where in sight as I passed his house, continuing on. I hoped that I would be able to make my escape out of the neighborhood quickly and quietly. Part of me honestly feared that somehow he would sense I was walking, and jet out of his house to race after me. And part of me knew there was a great chance he would actually do that.

Luck was on my side today though. I made it onto the main road heading out to school with not a soul in sight. Today I could resort back to my old habits: thinking about whatever came to mind, and viewing the same old scenery I had passed hundreds of times.

Nothing really floated into my mind though, and I was surprised. The most in-depth thing I’d thought about was how birds never got tired after flying so long. Deep, right? Birds were flying around the sky, swooping and turning as they glided around. I wished that I had wings, I wished I could fly.

I’d leave this place I hated, and go off to find a life of my own in the sky, where no one could get me. I’d be safe up there. No one could hurt me up there. No one could even reach me. I liked the idea of that; being alone. It didn’t sound so bad. Honestly, I’d been alone enough already to know that I enjoyed it. I didn’t need anyone to take care of me - minus my parents purchasing the necessities. But it gave me a feeling of fulfillment when I was able to take care of myself, and make it on my own. If I had no one, at least I had myself. There was no escaping me. And I already knew that no matter how hard I tried to run away from myself, it was like trying to run away from my own shadow. There was no way I could ever really be alone. I was happy having it just be my, myself, and I.

My thoughts were all my own as I neared school now. I was a few minutes earlier than I usually was, but that only meant I had more time to hang out in Mrs. Peckerman’s room and read the time away.

It was chilly in the building, like it always was on Mondays. But nonetheless, I was safe from the outdoors.

The book I was reading at the moment enticed me as I walked into Peckerman’s room, acknowledging her with a tiny “hello” after she greeted me in her raspy voice. I took my usual desk in the back corner of the room where no one else sat, even during class. Her room was empty of course, save her and I. But there seemed to be enough life in the room. Perhaps it was just the fictitious lives’ of the characters in our own books that made the empty classroom come to life as we dove further and further into an alternate reality.

I almost envied how the lives’ of the characters in my books seemed so easy. It felt like they just got what they needed, what they wanted. Even though there was the occasional struggle and complication, they just got over it. The characters were so strong and able to overcome anything it seemed. I hated that sometimes. I didn’t like how they could just make so much more out of what they were given.

Why couldn’t my life be like that?

I had been thrown plenty of challenges in my life, yet things weren’t okay yet. Things always got better in my books. Always by the end, of course. Maybe my end was just farther away.

The only thing I wondered was how long was it till my ending? How long did I have until things resolved themselves and got better?

Suddenly I was aware that I was no longer reading my book. I was too busy thinking about the future, and my own problems, that my eyes were no longer scanning the lines on the pages. I was only staring at one word on the page: fate. And what was fate? Just the driving force behind what was meant to happen in someone’s life? I suppose each person’s fate was different, but I couldn’t help but wonder if we all had the same driving forced behind what made us do the things we did. Were we all driven by the same thing?

My mind was racing with possibilities of what the future might hold for me. Whatever my fate was going to be, suddenly interested me beyond belief.

I was so interested in thinking about what could be in store for me some day that I wasn’t even paying attention in first hour. My thoughts consumed me as I tried to get my work done, at least trying to look like I was being productive. Maybe Peckerman would pick up that I was having an “off” day and that she should just leave me be.

I wanted to sit in her room all day again like I had once a few weeks ago, but I knew I couldn’t do that again. One main reason driving me away from staying in her room all day was third hour. Oliver was in Mrs. Peckerman’s third hour class, and no way was I going to be stuck in the same room with him again. Not when I was trying to escape the bothers of my other classes, only to be burdened with him instead. No way.

So I packed up my things when the bell rang and moved onto science. I still hated it, like I had hated every day before it during the year. The way Mr. Greene’s nasally voice penetrated my head through my eardrums made me was to shove pencils in my throat - and I didn’t even care if they were sharp. Science was useless, I swear. It had nothing to do with what I wanted to do as a profession one day. Well, I still wasn’t so sure what I wanted to do in the future one day, but I knew I would not be using science!

All of my other classes that came after it only passed in a blur, because yet again, thoughts of my fate and future overwhelmed my brain - to the point where I couldn’t focus on anything else.

Now I was starting to think about what I would be doing someday, for my career. What was I going to do?

I wasn’t so sure I wanted to be an author or writer, that was only what I did in my free time. It scared me that I didn’t know what I wanted to do. I needed to get my plans set up already, otherwise things wouldn’t turn out the way I wanted! I had to plan now!

I wasn’t even aware that I was slightly hyperventilating until I heard someone drop a book next to me in my last class. My heart was beating fiercely in my chest and I swear if someone was standing close enough to me, they would have been able to hear it. But I tried calming down, telling myself that I had plenty of time before I actually had to think about getting old and moving on.

I was only thirteen, nothing to worry about. There were many years ahead of me for trying to get things planned out. Right?

Well, I hoped so, because otherwise when I was trying to figure out what I wanted to do with my life, and everyone else was getting on track, what was going top happen? My life would slip away from me; I’d slip away from me. And I can’t lose myself now, can I?

***

The walk home was silent, just like the one to school this morning. It was like it had been over a month ago; back when I was still unknown to Oliver, back when he was unknown to me.

I couldn’t decide whether I liked the way things used to be those weeks ago, or whether I liked it now better,

I didn’t have to think for long. Without a doubt, things were much, much better all those weeks ago. Back when I was still happy in my reclusion, with no one pestering me. Back when Jordan was still at home, even though he was a prick. It was just when things were normal. It was normal for me to be quiet and invisible to everyone at my school; invisible to my neighbors, as well. It was normal for Jordan to be a prick and never home. It was normal for me to think that everything was just going smoothly still, like it had been going the last few years of my life.

But then, all of it was shattered. Just like that, within a span of a few days. All gone. All of it.

Now, I was just trying to rebuild what I had constructed for myself over the years.

I liked walking alone. I liked knowing that Oliver was nowhere in sight as I turned onto my street, walking to my door and opening it without hearing anyone else waiting for me to get inside before they slammed their own door. It was just quiet now, and I liked that. Somehow, today felt normal.

***

Tuesday. Oh, how I loathe Tuesdays. In fact, sometimes, they are worst than Mondays. But then I have to realize that it means there’s only three days left till Saturday after the end of Tuesday.

And so, here’s to Tuesday.

I made my breakfast and finished eating it after getting ready in a record ten minutes. Orange juice and toast was always the perfect combination. Somehow, they made the morning more bearable. The two breakfast staples I had been enjoying nearly every morning for the entire year, and years before that. Sometimes, I couldn’t imagine never having toast with a side of orange juice for breakfast. I felt like I would be incomplete without having my breakfast of choice every morning. Then I had to remind myself I was acting like a pansy for thinking like that. It was breakfast for Pete’s sake.

The clock alerted me I needed to be out of the house in the next three minutes, because I had figured through experience that if I left any later than half past seven, I would be late to school. With that, I opened the closet door and fished out a pair of trainers that were worn down due to the many times I had beaten them up walking around in the past. I’d had them for years, but I had never really found a pair that I liked more than those. So, they stuck around - even though I felt a whole wearing itself into the toe of the left shoe.

My jacket was already on my shoulders as I walked out the door, slinging my bag over my shoulder and locking the door to the house. I padded down the walkway, trying to ignore the water splashing onto my shoes and the backs of my legs. It was cold outside. I hated it. “Summer” was coming soon anyways, so at least it would be warming up a few degrees in the next few weeks. I hated how my breath caught in my throat when I tried to breath due to how cold it felt when it whooshed into my windpipe.

I picked up a good pace, nearing the end of the street - nearing Oliver’s house. When I walked by it, I heard the familiar creaking of the wooden door opening. The familiar sound of footsteps scrambling out of the door soon followed. My head turned - involuntarily, of course - to the source of the noise, and I saw a disheveled Oliver scurrying out of the door, along with yells from a female voice in the house.

He slammed the door and ran down his walkway, to my side. I couldn’t help but notice his hair was a rate mess as he walked up next to me. It was spread out in various directions, sticking up funny. A tiny snort escaped from me, and my eyes widened in shock that I had actually made a noise. I thanked God Oliver didn’t notice; he was too busy trying to cram stray papers into his book bag, stuffing them in, not appearing to care that half of them ripped when he haphazardly zipped his bag shut.

I turned my head when he looked up though, trying to avoid his eyes. That didn’t work. His eyes - that were a color I wasn’t quite sure of - met mine, and I whipped my head in the opposite direction of his gaze. I felt uncomfortable when I could still feel his eyes on me; I didn’t even have to turn to look at him to know he was stealing glances at me. This time though, I wasn’t even concerned with looking at him. Oliver was just a jerk who I had no interest in. He was mean, sour, and I hated him!

“’Ello, Addie,” he breathed, seemingly out of breath. My head jerked towards him when I heard his voice break the silence that had been shared between us for the past ten minutes.

“Uh, hi, Oliver.” His name tasted bad on my tongue, and the way I said it made it sound disgusting. He didn’t take notice of this, or at least his didn’t try anything.

“Haven’t said anythin’ to me in a few days,” he muttered, his words slurred to the point where I could barely understand him.

“What?” I asked, not sure that he had even meant to form a coherent sentence in the first place.

“I said you ‘aven’t said anything’ to me in a few days,” he repeated, sounding rather exasperated, like it was my fault I couldn’t understand him.

“That’s because I don’t want to talk to you, Oliver,” I spat. Really, why in the world would I have need to talk to him?

“Oh…” he said, trailing off. “Why?”

That got me.

“Why?! Why would I not want to talk to you? How about because you’re an annoying little prick who I hate. You’re just… ugh!” I tried to control my voice, but it didn’t really work. I was half-yelling at him, and I could tell he was slightly taken aback. His eyes were wide as I looked at him. We were stopped now, standing right in front of the park we had seen each other at so many weeks ago. Neither of us were moving, the only sound coming from us was our heavy breathing.

“You hate me?” he asked, a quizzical look on his face. Did he honestly think I had no sour feelings towards him at all?

“Well, you’d hate someone, too, after they’d been stalking and harassing you for two weeks.”

“But… I were just, just-”

“Just what, Oliver? Just making a fool out of me? Just making me hate the one place I had to myself?” I was nearing the edge of ferocity as I spoke loudly and sternly to Oliver. His face looked like it was melting from slight anger and shock down to one of not much emotion at all. He looked still looked shocked, but now, he was calm, almost.

He still didn’t say anything, he only looked at me, meeting my eyes and then averting his own down to the wet cement we were standing on.

“What were you doing?” I whispered, suddenly not able to find my voice. I was upset and felt like crying, but I wouldn’t dare. Not in front of Oliver.

“I don’t know,” he said after a moment more of silence. “I were tryin’ to talk to you, and get your attention. I don’t really know what I wanted.”

“Well, you sure did get my attention, but not in the right way, Oliver.”

“I guess… I just wanted to see what you would do. Didn’t look like anyone really ever talked to you, and I wanted to see if… I don’t know. It were like a game, I guess.”

“Well, that’s fantastic. I was a game for you Oliver! I’m so glad that I was able to entertain you,” I spat, turning on my heel and walking away from where I had been previously been standing.

He still stood there, or so I assumed, judging by the lack of noise that would have been generated by his footsteps had he decided to start walking again. I counted to thirty in my head before I heard anything again. It was the same slapping of footsteps against the pavement that I had grown used to over the past months. He had a distinct way of walking, almost. But I felt weird admitting to myself that I could identify him just by the way he walked.

Oliver really was something else. And I wanted to be as far away from him as I possibly could. So, why again was he following me?

Right. We were damned to the same school.

How many more weeks until summer holiday?

Right. Three and (nearly) a half.