It's always a
bad sign when you wake up to the light outside your bedroom window instead of
your alarm. I roll over, fumbling about blindly
with an arm for my watch on my bedside table, wondering why I feel so
stiff. My hand can't find it, but suddenly
it brushes up against something wet and recoils. My eyes snap open and immediately get scoured
by the blazing sunrise. I'm not in my
room at all. I'm still outside in the
grass, staring up at the sky.
I shiver
involuntarily at the musty morning chill and pull myself to my feet. Today is the day the Gandhi Scheme lives or
dies. It's now or never, sink or swim,
mediocrity or excellence.
I manage to
sneak back into my apartment to get my school stuff and back out again without
my roommates noticing. The route to
school is crisp and clear with that spark of a new day that makes it worth
getting up in the morning. Everything is
so real to me today: the backpack strap
rubbing against my shoulder, the smell of apple blossoms opening their newly born
heads, the tread of gravel beneath my feet.
Like I've been wearing sunglasses all my life and now with them gone I
see with sharp clarity everything that was once black and white. It's the feeling in my heart makes it that
way, gyrating like a jet engine, throwing beams of bright intensity to the far
corners of my being. Mercedes' happiness
means more to me than anything else in the world. That desire has changed my heart and has
transformed me to see things the way the really are, and the way they really
can be.
Dr. Orozco proffers three pages of stapled
paper towards me. I take it from her and
set it on the armrest of the chair absentmindedly, wondering if it will be
better to talk to Mercedes during class or after. Lydia leans over my shoulder from the row
behind to catch a glimpse of the front of the test I've just gotten back.
"No
way! How did you get an A? I studied half the night before and I only
got a B+!"
"Well--"
"I spent
all that time making flashcards of all the hand bones and they weren't on the
test!"
"Lydia--"
"I didn't
think it was fair how she put things on there that she didn't even mention to
us once!
"Lydia. It doesn't matter." She falls silent. "There are things in life that are far
more important than grades." I
stuff the test into my backpack without glancing
at it.
Lydia looks at
me like she's never seen me before, wondering perhaps for the first time what's
going on in this head of mine.
"The
final project presentations will be due next Saturday," the Dr. Orozco
reminds us. "Every team member must
be present for you to get full credit on the project. Make sure you follow all the instructions on the presentation so you don't lose points
for silly mistakes."
"We're
meeting Thursday, right?" whispers Lydia.
I nod, "I think we should be able to finish the
rest of it in one sitting."
Outside is
overcast now, with tiny droplets of rain speckling the pavement at intermittent
intervals. I pause to brush my hand
over the rough bricks of the building next to me. This is it:
The moment I've been waiting for.
My insides are tied up in knots around my stomach. After all the thought I've put into this,
after all the millions of times this moment has gone through my head, it's
finally here. I ball my hands into
fists. How crazy is it for me to care so
much about something so small and routine?
Or maybe the better question is why I didn't know before that the small,
routine things could be so important.
The Scyrene
Science Center looms up ahead. I slow my
pace as I walk toward it, step after slow step.
I think about how Mercedes is going to react to what I'm about to
do. What if she hates me for it? A sudden gush of panic pushes through
me. Should I even go through with
this? I thrust the thought aside and
focus on my desire to make Mercedes' life better. That is worth any cost, including the risk of
losing her friendship.
Almost without
realizing it, my hand reaches up to grasp the handle of the door leading into
the building. My mind wills time to slow
down, just like it does in the movies before important moments, but it never
does. I shove the door inward and walk
through.
In the
hallway, now, staring at the classroom door.
Just one more hour, and this will be all over. The bell rings and a swarm of students spills
out of the classroom.
We
must become the miracle that we want to see in our lives. I tell myself. We have
to believe that not only do miracles happen but that they will happen to
us. That they will happen because of us.
Out of the corner of my eye I see the door I just came through open and
a spattering of blond hair pass through it.
I turn immediately. My heart
leaps like it did the second time I saw her at the volleyball game.
"Hi
Nick." She smiles at me and I smile
back.
"How's it
going?" I ask.
"For now,
excellent. I'm not too excited for the
weekend, though."
I bet I can
guess why. "How come?"
She
shrugs. "Just some drama I'm going
through right now." Family drama, I
think to myself.
We go inside
the classroom and sit down. Now time seems to slow down, ticking
second by second through the five minutes we have until class starts. I tap my pencil rhythmically against the
armrest to distract myself.
Class
starts. I take in absolutely nothing of
what's being said. The only class I've
really ever been taken in this room is the one taught by the girl sitting next
to me, who ironically has never had any idea that she's been teaching it.
My pencil taps
faster against the armrest. Mercedes
brushes a lock of hair behind her ear and gazes off at a spot on the wall a few
feet above the teacher's head. She isn't
paying any more attention to what's being said than I am.
About ten
minutes before the end my calves begin to cramp up from being tense for so
long. This situation officially crosses
an invisible dividing line and joins the extremely small list of tortures that
I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. I
watch the clock tick down every one of the 600 seconds between me and the end
of class. The bell rings.
I stand up,
feeling surreal, my legs shaking
slightly. I slip the pencil into my
pocket. Mercedes stands as well, and we
move to leave. I blink and we're outside,
getting sprinkled on once more by dark clouds high above. Mercedes is looking down at the ground, lost
deep in thought. This is it. I don't let myself hesitate.
"Kyra
told me that your family is coming into town this weekend."
She looks up
at me, surprised. "What's it to
you?"
"I think
you should tell them how you feel."
She opens her mouth, but I charge on before she can respond. "You're never going to be happy until
you can forgive them. Even if they don't
take it well, you'll still know you did everything that you could. I bet they'd respond better than you'd think."
I reach the
end of my prepared speech and look back over at her for the response. This is the tipping point of everything. Will she fall on the side of gratitude,? Or anger?
"Forgive
them?" She asks.
"Yeah. So you don't have such bitter feelings toward
them anymore."
She stares
back at me, her violet eyes inscrutable.
"I've never had bitter feelings towards my family."
I furrow my
brow, confused. "But you've made
some comments before..."
"Which is
why you shouldn't jump to conclusions, should you?" She snaps back bitterly.
"Why are
you so upset about it, then?"
Mercedes'
glare goes steely and I realize I've just made a tremendous mistake.
"Why are
you always getting into my business?"
And opened a GIGANTIC
can of worms.
"Don't
you think I can handle my own problems? Am I so mentally impaired that you think I
can't make it through life without you holding my hand every ten seconds? How does it not get past your thick skull
that there are things I just don't want people to know?"
I stammer
back, "I'm just trying to help!"
"Well I
just want to be left alone!" She
turns and marches away. Just like that, and
she's gone.
Part VIII will be here before you know it on Monday.
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