synthesizers, and I remember.
The night washes the house with black and forgets to dry it off, leaving it shivering and cold and needing a nice warm blanket.
Seventeen-year-olds shouldn’t be thinking this way, but yeah, I guess Staunch and Marsh were right. I’ve never been a typical kid.
Then again, does any kid ever feel typical?
Really?
17. Someone Else’s Story
“So have you decided what you’re going to do about college?”
We’re halfway through our meal at one of those sandwich and soup places in the Asheville mall. I’m glad that Kelsey suggested coming here—not that there were many options. There’s nothing much to do in Solitary, unless we stayed at her house and rented a movie. Instead, we’re going to see the latest picture starring Ryan Gosling.
“It seems like everybody is asking that lately,” I tell her.
“It is January, you know.”
“Maybe I won’t go to college. Maybe I’ll just get on my bike and drive across the country.”
“And who’s going to pay for your gas? And food?”
“Yeah, yeah. Life would be a lot better if we didn’t have to think about money.”
“You don’t want to wait until it’s too late.”
Kelsey is a rule-keeper. Someone gives a rule, and Kelsey keeps it. I, on the other hand, don’t like rules. Or deadlines. Or stuff that others tell me I should do.
That’s called stubborn.
“You sound like Mr. Taggart.”
“Why?”
I tell her about getting him as a guidance counselor, and Kelsey can only laugh.
“I’m surprised he’s still at school. I heard he got kicked out of coaching football for getting in a fight with a kid from another school. Not another coach, but a kid.”
“Glad I’m getting ‘guidance’ from him.”
I talk a little about summer school, then realize where that’s heading. I stop because I don’t want Lily to come up.
“I might follow you back to Chicago,” I tell her, switching subjects.
“You’re going to go to Covenant?”
“I don’t think I have the grades to get in there. And it’s probably too expensive.”
“Then where?”
“Mr. Taggart is suggesting a junior college. Guess he’s dreaming big for me. I don’t know. At this point I don’t really care, you know? I just want to get away from Solitary.”
As I take my last bite of my sandwich I see a tall guy, in his thirties maybe, by himself sipping a drink and reading a magazine. He’s sitting at a table nearby, facing me. Kelsey can’t see him.
I didn’t see him sit down, but I notice him now.
He glances up and looks at me. Then he smiles.
And I know.
He’s not just some random guy sitting there.
This guy is spying on me. Or not even “spying,” because it’s too obvious and he doesn’t care.
He’s keeping tabs on me.
That’s just your imagination.
When I look back at him, he’s reading his magazine.
“Chris?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s wrong?”
I look at Kelsey and shake my head. “Nothing.”
“You look—-different.”
“I do?”
“You sure you’re okay?”
I look at her, and then it comes back to me. I can’t help the memories.
Rushing to Jocelyn, only to find her dead with her throat slit and her blood dripping out …
I close my eyes and wipe them, but I can’t wipe the pain away.
Seeing Lily’s body not far from mine in the woods at the bottom of the hill through the cracked windshield as I slowly fade in and out and bleed to death myself …
“Chris?”
“Yeah, sorry. I just have a headache.”
“I’m sorry.”
I look at her, confused. “What? You’re sorry?”
“For bringing up college and the future.”
I shake my head. “That’s not why I have the headache.”
My eyes go back to the table where the guy is sitting. He looks like he’s content to stay as long as necessary.
“We don’t have to see a movie.”
“No,” I tell her. “I want to go.”
I want a break. A little relief. To sit in a dark room and see someone else’s story and know that someone is next to me in
The night washes the house with black and forgets to dry it off, leaving it shivering and cold and needing a nice warm blanket.
Seventeen-year-olds shouldn’t be thinking this way, but yeah, I guess Staunch and Marsh were right. I’ve never been a typical kid.
Then again, does any kid ever feel typical?
Really?
17. Someone Else’s Story
“So have you decided what you’re going to do about college?”
We’re halfway through our meal at one of those sandwich and soup places in the Asheville mall. I’m glad that Kelsey suggested coming here—not that there were many options. There’s nothing much to do in Solitary, unless we stayed at her house and rented a movie. Instead, we’re going to see the latest picture starring Ryan Gosling.
“It seems like everybody is asking that lately,” I tell her.
“It is January, you know.”
“Maybe I won’t go to college. Maybe I’ll just get on my bike and drive across the country.”
“And who’s going to pay for your gas? And food?”
“Yeah, yeah. Life would be a lot better if we didn’t have to think about money.”
“You don’t want to wait until it’s too late.”
Kelsey is a rule-keeper. Someone gives a rule, and Kelsey keeps it. I, on the other hand, don’t like rules. Or deadlines. Or stuff that others tell me I should do.
That’s called stubborn.
“You sound like Mr. Taggart.”
“Why?”
I tell her about getting him as a guidance counselor, and Kelsey can only laugh.
“I’m surprised he’s still at school. I heard he got kicked out of coaching football for getting in a fight with a kid from another school. Not another coach, but a kid.”
“Glad I’m getting ‘guidance’ from him.”
I talk a little about summer school, then realize where that’s heading. I stop because I don’t want Lily to come up.
“I might follow you back to Chicago,” I tell her, switching subjects.
“You’re going to go to Covenant?”
“I don’t think I have the grades to get in there. And it’s probably too expensive.”
“Then where?”
“Mr. Taggart is suggesting a junior college. Guess he’s dreaming big for me. I don’t know. At this point I don’t really care, you know? I just want to get away from Solitary.”
As I take my last bite of my sandwich I see a tall guy, in his thirties maybe, by himself sipping a drink and reading a magazine. He’s sitting at a table nearby, facing me. Kelsey can’t see him.
I didn’t see him sit down, but I notice him now.
He glances up and looks at me. Then he smiles.
And I know.
He’s not just some random guy sitting there.
This guy is spying on me. Or not even “spying,” because it’s too obvious and he doesn’t care.
He’s keeping tabs on me.
That’s just your imagination.
When I look back at him, he’s reading his magazine.
“Chris?”
“Yeah.”
“What’s wrong?”
I look at Kelsey and shake my head. “Nothing.”
“You look—-different.”
“I do?”
“You sure you’re okay?”
I look at her, and then it comes back to me. I can’t help the memories.
Rushing to Jocelyn, only to find her dead with her throat slit and her blood dripping out …
I close my eyes and wipe them, but I can’t wipe the pain away.
Seeing Lily’s body not far from mine in the woods at the bottom of the hill through the cracked windshield as I slowly fade in and out and bleed to death myself …
“Chris?”
“Yeah, sorry. I just have a headache.”
“I’m sorry.”
I look at her, confused. “What? You’re sorry?”
“For bringing up college and the future.”
I shake my head. “That’s not why I have the headache.”
My eyes go back to the table where the guy is sitting. He looks like he’s content to stay as long as necessary.
“We don’t have to see a movie.”
“No,” I tell her. “I want to go.”
I want a break. A little relief. To sit in a dark room and see someone else’s story and know that someone is next to me in
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