Chapter 17: Strawberry Morning

Chapter 17
Strawberry Morning

It was a terrible night for me. I barely slept. When I did sleep, I would dream of darkness. From that darkness, a smile would appear, and a metallic flash. Then I would wake.

So I spent the hours studying.

Daybreak came, and I did my daily routine, but I still took the bus instead of the subway. I still felt it was too early to be seen there again. Eason said there would be no problems, but I wasn’t so sure. When people fear you once, it’s difficult to forgive or to forget. I took the bus to school.

I arrived just as class started. The class was half empty, but I saw that purple skull ribbon. I sat down next to her, and she smiled.

“You’re not in this class,” I whispered.

“I know,” she whispered back.

The professor continued on with his lecture.

“Why are you here in this class then? You don’t even attend our other class.”

“Well, I wanted to give you something.”

“Excuse me!” the professor turned toward us. “If you have something more important than me to say, then please say it to the class.”

“No. Sorry,” I stated.

Class ended fifty minutes later. Grace and I walked out from the lecture hall.

“That was the first time I’ve ever gotten in trouble with a professor.”

“Sorry,” she stated. “At least, it’s a new experience!”

I shook my head, and we continued walking.

“So, why did you come today?”

“I wanted to say ‘sorry.’”

“You planned on getting me in trouble?”

“No!” she laughed. “I wanted to say ‘sorry’ for being so out of character – for being so moody.”

“You were stressed, so don’t worry about it. I’m always moody.”

“You are moody!”

“Thanks.”

“But still, I’m sorry.”

“Okay – but don’t really, don’t worry about it.”

“Here!”

She handed me a wrapped package. It was wrapped in black paper with a purple bow. A small skull patch laid on the bow. It looked like the ribbon in her hair.

“What’s this?”

“You’ll see!” she smiled.

I opened the package and pulled out the red tie.

Smiling is infectious.

A strawberry was sewn onto the bottom of the tie.

“It’s perfect. Thank you.”

“You’re very welcome!”

“So what do we do now?”

“How ‘bout lunch? You’re paying!”

It was an interesting way to start the day.

Text and Images © Jonathan Lee

Chapter 12: Echoes

Chapter 12
Echoes

I was running.

“Hey, Hank! What’re you doing later?”

He smiled.

Out of the crossroads and into the noisy streets.

“I’m going to do homework.”

Honking cars and shouting people.

He sighed. “You know – it’s not healthy to work so hard.”

I didn’t know what to do.

“It’s not healthy to lounge about all day either.”

“Are you saying I lounge about all day?”

“Yes.”

“Well, it’s true. So, we’re two-of-a-kind then.”

“Something like that.”

“Come on! It’s Friday. You can do your homework on Sunday. Let’s go have fun. Let’s go

I didn’t know where

to the mall!”

“Not today, Donny.”

“Man, forget it. I’ll go by myself.”

“You do that.”

I turned around and walked away.

to go it didn’t matter where just that I was gone.

“Oh yah!”

He grabbed me by the shoulder.

“I almost forgot to give this to you.”

He handed me a tin-wrapped plate. I opened it.

“I can’t believe I almost forgot. My mom made some last night for our study session, but you left before she finished.”

A slice of strawberry cake.

A flat line ticking in my head.

“What’s this for?”

“It’s supposed to be a surprise ‘cause you were accepted to Lawrence College! Congratulations!”

Run Run Run

“I don’t know what to say.”

As fast as you can

“Thanks would be good enough. Or say you’ll go hang out.”

“Thanks.”

Out of breath but still running.

“So close.”

lives so fragile to be connected to shatter fragments build cities and ruins…

We laughed.

Reachin-

The bell ringed.

Callin-

“Alright then, Hank. Take care.”

“You too, Donny.”

Lunch had ended. I went to Calculus and Donny to English. Sixth period ended. I walked home. Sirens flaring as the ambulance blared down the street past me toward the mall. Anxious. Nervous. Uneasiness.

Giving.

I began to run.

My feet had taken me there.

“What’s going on here?” the voices intermingling in my head.

“I need your help, Eason.”

Text and Images © Jonathan Lee