Running Water

At school the next day, Noah wasn’t angry with Fern anymore. He was only miserable. Fern wasn’t his only friend, of course—but she was the most important, the closest to his heart. If she had only been sick, he wouldn’t have felt so awful that she wasn’t there.

But he knew—oh, he knew that she was already gone. She was probably driving aimlessly right now, and it was his fault. Had he not gotten so irrationally upset, she might not have left that night and instead, he could’ve had more time to talk some sense into her. Even then, though, he probably would’ve failed. This was Fern, after all.

During math, he couldn’t help but think of her dad and her siblings. Poor Giselle, poor James. She was really the mother figure to James.

But he especially felt sorry for her father. He’d already lost one woman he loved, and now his daughter would be gone as well. Noah couldn’t pay attention to the problems on the board; he only saw blue and red scribbles. Then, feeling a flick on the back of his head, Noah came back to earth.

“Mrs. Church is talking to you,” he heard Alison hiss behind him. He looked his teacher in the eye, and her gaze was impatient.

“Pardon me? I’m sorry,” he said. Mrs. Church went from impatient to frustrated, and then sighed.

“What is given about the problem that might help us find X, Mr. Simmons?” Noah blinked once, everything she had just said went in one ear and out the other. He saw Frank, two rows away, roll his eyes, but it didn’t bother him. He didn’t have the time to process it properly, so he had to think twice about if it had really happened or not.

“I’m sorry Mrs. Church, but I’m feeling sick and I can’t concentrate. May I go to the nurse’s office?” Alison scoffed behind him, aware that he was lying. Mrs. Church probably knew too, but she let him go with a lazy flick of her wrist. He shoved his stuff in his backpack haphazardly, making it painfully obvious to Mrs. Church that the reason he never turned anything in because he lost his work in his backpack, otherwise known as the Black Hole. Fern had been the one to think of that nickname.

Noah slung a backpack strap onto his shoulder, hastily exiting the classroom. The door shut with a loud and obnoxious thuk, but Noah barely heard it as he went right past the nurse’s office, towards the front gates. He was aware of the consequences of ditching school (suspension), but it really didn’t matter much to him as he dug his keys out of his pocket. He wasn’t planning on coming back anyways.

He threw his backpack into the backseat, knocking over a few CDs in the process. Hardly bothered, Noah started the car and drove out of the student lot, debating on whether to go to Fern’s house or his house or just chase after her blindly with no supplies or money.

Realizing option three was the dumbest thing he could possibly do, Noah went back to his place. He was a latch-key kid; his parents were always out until they got off of work. He came home to no one.

He had always hated that fact, but as he walked in towards his room, he was thankful. He grabbed a beat-up rolling suitcase out of his closet, packing in things he’d need. The first thing he threw in was his favorite shirt—Fern’s favorite shirt, too. They’d often fought over it and had begun to take turns with it. Fern didn’t own much guy clothing, her style was shorts and colorful cardigans, but she loved that shirt to death.

Once Noah was all set, he zipped up his blue suitcase and carried it out to the trunk of his car. Noah wanted to stop by Fern’s, but he knew her dad would be there. Oh, Lord. Had he noticed yet? Did he think that Noah just drove her to school before he woke up? Suddenly accompanied by a knotted stomach, Noah slid out of his seat, dragging his ratty Converse up Fern’s driveway (which had never seemed so long).

He raised his hand to knock on the door, the flat silver ring on his middle finger giving off a glare in the sunlight. With squinted eyes, Noah pounded on the door three times.

“Noah?” It was Fern’s dad, Benjamin, a confused look on his face.

“Shouldn’t you be at school with Fern?” Think fast, Noah thought.

“Oh, it’s my free period. Fern forgot a book that she’ll need next period and asked me to get it for her.” Noah let a grin make its way onto his face, but he kept it innocent. He wanted to smirk, though, he had been downright slick. Sly as a fox.

“All right,” Ben said, smiling, “Come on in. But hurry, I don’t want either of you getting in trouble.” Noah laughed politely.

“Thanks, Mr. Evans,” he said, making his way in, past Ben. Noah went through the front room and across the living room, down the hallway and into Fern’s room.

He noticed some clothes strewn about, but nothing looked too out of the ordinary. She packed light. He did see some yellowing envelopes and odd trinkets in a box near the bed. The brown cardboard looked so ugly and harsh with its sharp corners next to the lacy white and peach pattern of her sheets. The stark contrast made Noah look twice, examining it instead of only getting a glimpse. Noah picked it up, one of the said corners getting caught on the lace, but he pulled it up quickly, creating some loose threads. He rifled through it, glancing at the door every other second, in fear of Fern’s dad. He was cool, but Noah didn’t know how cool he’d be with Noah going through Fern’s shit.

“Hey, Noah?” Upon hearing his name, Noah jumped and dropped the golden locket he was holding, letting it fall quickly into the box with a thump. Shielding the box from Benjamin’s view with his body, Noah replied, “Yes?”

Benjamin stuck his upper body through the doorway, scanning the room with his eyes.

“If you were looking for her science textbook, it was actually in the kitchen,” he said. Noah smiled, laughing as if saying, of course. The kitchen.

“No wonder I couldn’t find it,” he chuckled. Benjamin smiled back, the wrinkles around his eyes worsening. Though it was a sign of old age, it always seemed to make Benjamin look younger, happier. He took pride in his wrinkles; he believed them to be signs of a life well-lived.

Benjamin walked out, and Noah followed him—right after he grabbed most of the letters and things in that box and stuffed them into his ‘kangaroo pouch,’ as Fern called it. Noah just called it the pocket of his sweatshirt.

Benjamin reached over the tall stools at the island in the kitchen and grabbed the heavy, green book. He handed it off to Noah, who smiled gratefully.

“Well, I’ll be out of your hair now. Thanks, Mr. Evans,” Noah said. Benjamin gave him a wave as he walked out, and then shut the door.



When Noah put his hands on the steering wheel, he realized a flaw in his plan.

He had absolutely no fucking idea where Fern had gone.