Time Only Tells

Our walks home from the training ground is usually just all the same things; same buildings, same stores, same scenery every school day twice a day. You could call it a rut since it’s the shortest and almost only route we can walk home, but we do sometimes stray off course to visit one of Trevor’s dad’s cafés. They make a really good hot chocolate that has everything from the whip cream on top to a cinnamon stick on the side. We don’t go often though because my parents don’t like Trevor too much so we only go when I’m sure no one will be home when I get back to ask me where I was. If I remember correctly from the bit of blah fest that usually happen the odd time, it’s something about him being a guy and apparently no guy is trustworthy of treating girls respectively at our age. I can understand a lot of this because a good chunk of the male population at the training ground are pigs, but at our age it’s a good time to learn some skills to get rid of the pigs and learn to spot and pick out the pigs and fake gentlemen from the real gentlemen. But Trevor’s a good guy. From the way I see it disrespectful man would have the tenacity to stick with me through thick and thin. He’s never looked at me any different now after finding out more about me than back when he first met me. But of course I don’t tell him anything, there’s things that should never be known by the outside public no matter how much you trust them or how close you are.

The café is always closed on Fridays for maintenance. You’d thing that Friday would be the one day that the café is open because all the kids are off early but no. So our walks home on Friday are always plain, straight from the training grounds home. Though we both remember the audacity we both endured one Friday that I doubt either of us can easily forget. 4 months ago on Friday February 17th; the unforgettable Friday.