The Forever Year

Fifth period; fifth period as in lunch; fifth period as in after the duration exactly twenty-four hours, the course of business for this hellhole—sorry, shithole—sorry, school would be completely and totally derailed. He wouldn’t be alone, not like he is today, feigning that perfect smile and lying off his ass to his Algebra teacher about some sort of doctor’s appointment that would occur during the following day’s period four. A sharp glare overtakes his features as a figure much taller than he bumps into him; the other boy calls an apology over his shoulder before leaving the classroom with his blond-haired friend. Callum glowers at their retreating forms for a moment, discarding the foul look and smoothing the sleeve of his sweater as he returns his attention to the teacher.

“As I was saying, Mr. Lackos, I am terribly sorry that I will have to miss your class tomorrow. Is there any work that I will need to complete?” With another flash of his charming smile, Callum inquires this, fully aware that there wouldn’t be any need for him to complete assigned work for tomorrow or the next day, the day after that, the rest of the month or the year or even for the rest of time.

Travis Lackos, a young man with only a few years of teaching under his belt, doesn’t think anything of the large doses of schmoozing and the over-the-top smiles coming from the even younger man; in fact, he doesn’t even notice them. With a shake of his head and a dismissive hand, Mr. Lackos tells Callum that he need not worry about the work and to just speak to a classmate the following day to get any notes and assignments. Throwing out one last smile, Callum exits the classroom. The moment he is out of the door, that smile fades and a nasty glare overshadows the flecks of green in his eyes and his dark brows knit together in an angry furrow.

As he passes the senior courtyard, he sees the two boys who had run into him while he had been speaking with Mr. Lackos. Callum stops, leaning against the row of lockers, looking on at the boys. The blond is laughing, leaning against his taller friend and they’re now accompanied by a handful of other students. Friends of theirs, Callum assumes. Malice in his gaze, Callum observes in silence as the group talks and jokes. He trails after them when they speak of leaving campus for lunch and watches them gather in a car and drive out of the parking lot.

“Tomorrow,” he whispers as the car turns a corner. “Tomorrow, you will see.”