Behind the Statue by Franco Machado-Pesce
What if time stood still? Do you ever ask yourself that question? If nothing else moved except for you and the people you’re with, what would you guys do? Sneak into an amusement park? Steal? Leave all your homework for last minute? The question opens up a universe of possibilities, doesn’t it? It’s actually funny. If you stop time, you make more of it.
The problem is, you can’t control time. It’s limited for each and every one of us. Or at least, I thought it was.
I sat on the school bus watching the snow cascade outside my smudged window. Each petite hill of snow caused the bus to jump, which helped keep me awake. My head was smudged in between my hands as I leaned back, fighting to keep my eyes open. Oh, but I think I’m going to lose this battle. Oops. There is nothing worse than having to go to school on a day where even nature doesn’t want you to. Is a day to hide under fleece blankets with hot chocolate too much to ask for? And then people say that the “winter blues” aren’t a thing. To them I say, screw you.
Random voices flowed through the vehicle. If I wanted to, I could focus on each of the conversations: a guy got laid, a girl did her hair, another girl freaks out about an exam. Honestly, you don’t even have to be on the bus to guess what people talked about. Everything is always the same. I groaned and shut my eyes, ready to let the almighty, sleepy me take over, until someone poked my shoulder. I opened my eyes and saw a boy I’ve never seen before.
“What do you want?” I asked.
“Hi, I’m sorry, is this seat taken? Looks like the bus is full,” silence. I heard nothing and creeped over my chair to observe where all the ruckus had diminished to. There was no one else here. Fuck. I glanced outside and there it was, my prison, Cansington High School.
“Funny joke,” I pushed the boy aside.
“Just thought you didn’t want to go on a wild bus ride because you fell asleep,” he replied. His voice was smooth, but his ripped flannel caused him to shiver as we stepped outside. The soft crunches from the snow got louder with every step as I rushed to get to school. “Why are you running away?” The boy followed me into the building.
“I don’t know, maybe because I’m late and,” I turned and met his eyes, a comforting light brown, “have a class I need to get to.” The boy laughed.
“I mean it is school, so we all have classes to get to,” I couldn’t help but notice that he had to keep re-adjusting his messenger bag that was too big for his shoulders. Just like his shirt too. I found my locker and fiddled with the lock. My combination wasn’t working. Guess it was just one of those days. You know what I mean, those days where you have no time to get anything done, so the world and its mother-planets decide to go against you in every way. Screw the Universe. After five attempts, the lock finally opened and the locker door swung rapidly, slamming into the other lockers. The echo rang down the hall, disrupting any peace in between. A muffled chuckle escaped the boys lips.
“Listen, I don’t know what you want, but I don’t think that it’s okay,” I started, “that you’re stalking me. Who even are you?”
The boy stopped his chuckling and looked at me, squinching his eyes as if memorizing every detail.
“You have a scar,” he whispered, “it’s hidden by your eyebrow, but it’s there.” My hand rose to unconsciously trace it and I gasped.
“I seriously need to get to class-” Then the bells’ screech pierced my ear. I check my phone clock and I mouthed a word I would never say in front of my parents.
“And that’s the end of first period,” The boy smiled and turned to walk away, “it’s nice to see you again Cass,” He disappeared in the crowd of students that emerged from the classes. The place is flooded with endless babble and there I was. Stunned. How? Wha- Who is he? Why does he know my name? I stood there, gazing into the sea of teens, and realized that those questions weren’t going to be answered anytime soon.
BEEEEEP.
I snapped out of it and jolted to class. Slouching on my desk, I couldn’t help but wonder who that kid was. It’s obvious he knew me, so we did meet before, but when? Where? I gritted my teeth together and realized that my lecture notes had turned into scribbles. The last three topics on the board not covered in my notebook. I frantically wrote what I could salvage, but Mr. Wright decided to wipe the board away.
Agh, who even cares about math?
