Pulse

Surprisingly, the rest of the day went rather smoothly. Ivy’s mother decided to take them to a carnival, which was good, and then they decided to go out to lunch together. They went to Olive Garden and nearly started a food fight.

Later, Daniel was hanging out in Ivy’s living room, waiting for his mother to call to force him to go home. When she did, he told Ivy that he wished he didn’t have to go; her house was so much fun. Randy, sitting beside Ivy on the couch, giggled at that, and Ivy slapped his knee.

Ivy tried to force herself to concentrate. She had been working on the same song for over three hours and still had no chorus. Exasperated, she threw herself off of her bed and onto the floor. Maybe a new perspective might help her write. Ivy laid there, pencil poised above her old notebook for what felt like hours.

Giving up, she climbed back into her bed. She happened to glance at the clock in her climb, and, apparently, she had been lying there for hours. It was 9:30. Great time, since lessons started at seven.

Groaning internally, she heaved herself up out of her bed and ran to her truck. She was wearing sweatpants, so it didn’t matter that she didn’t bother to get dressed. She started her truck and was halfway to school when she realized it was Martin Luther King Jr. Day, and she didn’t have school.

Making a loud, obnoxious noise, Ivy made a wide U-turn and headed back home. On her way, she happened to see Harold on the side of the road. His car was on fire. She stopped to help him.

“Hey, Harold!” She said, stepping out of her truck. “Your car’s on fire.”

“Yeah, I know.” He said, exasperated. He was whacking the flames with his jacket. A pointless gesture really.

“Um, I’ve got a fire extinguisher in my truck, if you want it.” Ivy couldn’t help being polite to him, his car was on fire, for goodness’ sake.

“Please?” His expression conveyed such innocence that, for a moment, she forgot all about the fact that he kept trying to hook up with her.

Wordlessly, Ivy walked to the back of her truck, pulled out her fire extinguisher, and handed it to Harold.

He successfully put the flames out, and then turned to her, a sickening grin on his unintelligent face. “Hey, Ivy.” He said, walking towards her.

“Please, Harold.” Ivy scoffed. “I’m not in the mood for your crap today.” She rolled her eyes and took the fire extinguisher from his hands. “So just go away.” She mumbled, stepping around her truck to the bed, and tossing her fire extinguisher into it.

When Ivy, turned around, she nearly ran into Harold. She had not expected him to be standing that close behind her. “Didn’t I tell you to go away?” She glared at him. She tried to walk over to her truck’s door, but he stuck his arm out in front of her.

“I don’t think I was done talking to you yet.” His heavily lidded eyes made him look stupider than he really was. That was hard to do.

Ivy felt her heart rate pick up. She felt physically ill. Her heart had climbed up into her esophagus, threatening to choke her. Her hands clenched into two fists. She could feel her breathing turn into shallow gasps.

This could not end well.