Keys of Life

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Faye

 Aah!

   This is the last chapter from someone's (**COUGH, COUGH 'Faye's'**) perspective. I actually feel a little tearful.

   Keep reading. There's another post going up tomorrow. It actually brings in the title, which I'm sure has been a puzzle. Can't tell you too much, though.

   I'm sure half of you are glad this story/book/thingy is FINALLY over. You've been really patient with me (especially idioticcraziness since you had a hard time with Keenan leaving :-P), and I know all of my characters tend to ramble a bit. 

   So do I. 

   Anyway, would love to make it onto the What's Hot list, so comment, vote and fan. 

   I'll let you get on with reading now. Thanks.

   SleepyBug 

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Faye

   It was another Friday. I stared at the same graffiti that smattered the edges of my desk, the scrawled drawings of so many people who had sat in the very same spot, bored or tired or rebellious. A few new words caught my attention. I wondered how many of the culprits were still alive, still in the same country, still senile. The desk had been around for a while. Did they even remember doing this? Did they ever think about the mark they made on the world, the one that a similar teenager was staring at right now? 

   Rain pounded against glass, creating a tinny rattling that pierced my ears. I was counting down the minutes until the bell rang, staring intensely at the growing darkness outside. Another Friday. Everything has changed since that one so long ago. I had changed. A light flickered somewhere above me, casting everything into shadow in one quick moment before startling back into existence. I could see Anna's red curls out of the corner of my eye. We didn't talk much anymore, and in an inexplicable way everything had gone back to the way it used to be.

   Except it hadn't.   

   "Remember, this is a serious time ahead of you. I know that some of you are looking forward to your last few months of easy-going, but there is work to be done. This is the foundation for important exams, even though they mightn't start until next year. You need a basis for the information you will learn. That is what we're trying to do for you. I will not tolerate any messing around or slacking." The man standing at the front of the class blew out a sigh.

   "You may talk amongst yourselves until the bell goes."  It was almost the exact same speech I had heard a thousand times. I still hadn't quite caught the name of the teacher, and I watched as he sat down and surveyed the room, glancing at the clock with desperation. He was as eager to leave as we were.

    I heard a voice call my name.

   "Faye?" I turned around to see a girl looking at me, a hopeful softness in her eyes I had never seen before. I had never talked to her before, never really noticed. I wondered how many people had thought the same about me.

   "Yeah?"

   "Do you maybe want to go out for coffee over the weekend?" I thought about it for a second. What did I have to lose? Nothing. What did I have to gain? A friend. Possibly. Just maybe.

   "Sure. Do you want to give me your number?" She busily set out to do just that, turning on her phone while glancing furtively at the teacher. I couldn't help but check my mobile as I openly keyed her number into my own block of technology, the buttons beeping loudly. The teacher glanced at me, looked at what was in my hand. He went back to staring at the clock.

   There was no word from Keenan. I didn't care. Maybe I would call Smithy this weekend.  

   The bell rang; a shrill wailing that pierced my ears and drummed into my skull. I grinned briefly. Some things hadn't changed at all.     

   I still missed the familiar surroundings of my own school, just a little bit. I listened to the usual chattering of people I was started to know a little bit better, and heard laughter bounce off the walls. It didn't seem so strange...so threatening. In a weird way, I liked being more anonymous. People talked to me because of what I had to say, rather than who I had things to say about. I never had the liberty of knowing that in Belfast. It helped that I didn't feel quite so isolated anymore.

   The story is clichéd to the point of boredom. Someone moves school, feels lonely, obsesses about making friends, and everything is predictably fine in the inevitable end.

   Maybe my ending would work out, would follow the mundane rules. Just once.

   I realised that I had been left standing in an empty classroom. Not alone, though. That girl - Alice, I think - was waiting at the doorway, a bag slung over a shoulder, a friendly smile on her face. I could feel a little grain of warmth stirring in my heart bubbling to the surface - happiness. Simple and mindless, with no conscious control necessary; so much more genuine than a smile that never reached the eyes. It was there because somebody cared enough to take the time to stop.

   We didn't do that nearly enough, anymore. We never slowed, allowed ourselves to be instead of do. Always rushing, a constant buzzing whirl of motion and emotions. 

   I hurried to the other side of the room, glancing back. An empty room held the promise of people, of thoughts and lies and love, the same way a crowded hall held the promise of emptiness. In one swift movement, I snapped off the light.

   We stepped outside; the little droplets of water hitting our faces and trickling playfully down our necks. Smelling the earthy, clean scent of a downpour, I reached up a hand to ruffle my hair, feeling the liquid crystals that were embedded in the strands. Dusk was coming, thick and fast as we went our separate ways, Alice giving a little wave as we reached the school gate, laughing at the soaking clothes hanging on our frames, the war paint of our ruined mascara. My footsteps crunched on the pavement, a few tiny stones being crushed under my weight.

   I visited Jason at the weekend, complete with my parents. My mother had stood stiffly on the manicured grass, a tear running down her cheek as she lay a flower at Jason's tombstone. Dad had looked on, his eyes as old and wise as time itself, wracked with controlled sorrow and hidden grief. I sat at the foot of the gray monument to his life. I talked for a wee while, ignoring the presences behind me. I felt better after that.

   I don't know what changed. Loneliness didn't engulf me, and questions didn't threaten to swallow me up in one big gulp. It was as if, after everything, I realised that he was just a person, acknowledged the fact with more than just my mind. Just like Smithy had said, I had grieved over what I could have had. All of those times I cried over Jason, I was really crying over a "what if?"

   What if he had stayed close, kept in touch; been a part of the family?

   What if I had known him better?

   What if I had gotten there earlier?

   What if he hadn't died?

   I reached the gate. I looked at the key fob in my hand, teasing me. I calculated at the height of the bars. I had done it before hadn't I?

   This time I would do it as Faye.

   I hoisted myself up, and for a brief moment hung on the brink of emptiness, the metal digging lines into my hands. I let go. For an instant I was weightless; flying. Then a pair of scuffed black converse hit the ground, no more school regulation than black patent stilettos.

   They were a little more 'me', though. A touch of my personality, as unique as each droplet of the falling rain. I didn't need to be anyone else.

   For the first time in a long while, I was myself.    

   Faye.