Blu Skies

Chapter 2

Lockers slamming, people shuffling, balls flying, giggling, yelling, crying, you name it and it's happening at my high school.
I pretend to look at my phone before awkwardness consumes me, while making my way towards my locker. Mark was supposed to walk with me to school like he does every morning but I figured that he was busy since he hadn't showed up.

He was already at my locker when I reached. He was wearing a hooded jacket above a shirt that barely made it over his pants. His long brown curls hung loose just above his shoulders, his eyes fixated on a rubix cube. Examining it carefully, as if trying to decipher a message. Opening my locker, I noticed that his jaw was clenched and he was sweating.
"Hey", he said, hazel brown eyes looking up to meet mine.
"Now, who would be dumb enough to give you that. Wait... a secret admirer maybe.", I gasped dramatically.
"Please, I could definitely solve this I wanted to. Also no, unfortunately, no admirer for me"
"I didn't know the band had practice this morning", I prompted.
"Really? Me too, but since I'm in it I think its safe to say no, we didn't have practice today. But, I'm so sorry that I couldn't walk with you today. Dad's car needed help, desperately. "
"What?! A car that needed help? Why didn't you call me?"
"Ok, I know that you have a rather absurd love fixing cars, but it was already late for school, I'm sorry. And I admit that I am a total dick for standing you up."
"Well that you certainly are. Though its fine, you can make it up to me by listening to this new thing I found about our very own, drumroll plz, Harry Styles!!", I said excitedly,
"Fine, but please allow me time to get prepared. I have to stock food for the winters because I know that you will go on for days.", he mocked, knowing my obsession over Harry Styles was enormous.
"Ha ha, very funny, Sir Mark Jackson", I said sarcastically.
"How about I come to your track practice today?"

I smiled. Though I was stubborn, he always did know how to do that, make me smile that is.
"Whatever" I said, trying to hide my grin. His body straightened as he took my hand and attempted to crack my thumb as he always did. I remember asking why the first time he did that, when we were about 5 years old. He had said that his mother used to do it all the time whenever they held hands.
"How come none of your track buddies are here to fist bump you and make fun of me today?", he questioned.
"They don't make fun of you. Not always, anyway."
"Sure.",he said sarcastically.
We then parted ways.

My head buzzed as the teacher went on about Shakespeare and what not. I managed zoned out pretty quickly. I had told Mark once that I had wondered if teachers ever got bored. He had said that they chose this as something they would do for the rest of their lives, so they must like it a lot. That had scared me. How could a person pick a single thing to do for the rest of their lives? But then again, I liked track, a lot. My teachers had suggested it when I couldn't sit still in my classes, always wanting to stand up or move. I hated being confined to a particular desk where my legs were a little too long to fit, the edge scratching my thigh each time I moved.

I woke only when I heard footfalls approaching me.

"Miss Cadel, your homework please.", the teacher asked.
I dug through my bag pack and produced a crumpled up 500 word essay.
She scrunched her face and looked at me disapprovingly.
"Maya, you know that I can't be lenient with you this year right?"
"Right, of course, I'm sorry. Won't happen again", I said trying to sound confident.