W.S.S.H.

Boredom Buddy

My alarm went off, almost making me die of a panic attack. Even though Sherlock claimed he was safe I still thought the ghost of the psychopath would come after me again, and the alarm clock was a murderous scream in my paranoid mind. I first checked that the book was still under my pillow, which it was, safe and sound, and then hit my alarm particularly aggressively, not in the mood to stand up and talk to humans. But I fell to my feet, groaning and changing quickly. I left the book buried under my crumpled blankets and pillows, worried that someone would come in and start ransacking. I almost wanted to say goodbye to it, just say I’m not going to be gone for long, but that was absolutely mental. The book couldn’t hear me and even if it could I doubted it would care much. I just went to the bathroom and made myself look like less of a walking sleep zombie, shoveling a quick breakfast of eggs and bacon before walking back to my room, stuffing all of my stuff into my backpack.
From now on everything I write, assume Greg is watching, I’ll tell you if it’s me if he’s not around.
Very well Mr. Watson, have a nice day at school. Even though I knew some ink shouldn’t make me happy, for some reason seeing that he was still here and as positive as ever made my heart just a little bit lighter. I set the book gently in the back of my bag, where even rain couldn’t get to it since it would be against my back the whole time. I yelled some goodbyes to my parents and sister, getting only a response from mom, Harry probably had earbuds in and my dad was probably still asleep. I walked out the door into the still warm spring air, watching for the bus to come yet again. When it did I managed to make it to the back with Greg, where he looked just as happy as he had before.
“Hey John!” he said with a smile.
“Someone’s in a good mood.” I observed.
“Any leads on the, you know what?” he asked in a bit of a whisper.
“Well, it knows almost all of the dictionary, a lot of math problems I Googled, it’s like its own little computer or something.” I answered, leaving out the part that it was alive and had a name.
“Well that’s still pretty awesome. Just think what we could sell it for.” He said dreamily.
“No! No, we can’t sell it; think of what we could do with it? With this, I doubt we’d have to go to college at all! And if we did have to, we’d ace it.” I pointed out. He seemed to think about that, but in the end he nodded.
“I guess, since you’ve got the book, it’s not my place to judge.” He decided.
“Thank you.” I decided with a nervous smile. Was he lying just to make me happy, or was he actually happy with the decision? The bus stopped off at the school, dropping us off onto the sidewalk and letting us all fight the tides to our lockers. Once again I went off to Algebra, where I sat in the very back row, where no one could see the book. I put it under my desk, just for precautions, and took out a pencil.
It’s me, John, all clear.
Are you sure it’s you?
Yes, it’s me.
Okay, I’ll make you prove it.
Okay then, if you want to be that stubborn.
You do know I’m kidding right? I can tell your handwriting and pressure on the paper and even the heat of your arm against the page. I know it’s you.
That’s scarily smart.
Where are you now?
Algebra, ugh. I’m all alone in here, no one I like.
Ah, the time we met huh, it’s our one day anniversary.
You’re like a crazy girlfriend.
How would you know?
Oh be quiet. It kind of bothered me that it only has been a day, but me and this Sherlock guy were already talking like best friends.
Try to make friends, you’re only with them what, two more years?
Unfortunately.
Then what do you have to lose?
My social status, or what’s left of it, my sanity, maybe even my innocence.
Innocence?
Like not being caught up in the whole, ‘I hate you’, ‘she’s such a jerk’, rumors and gossip and rubbish that I’ve managed to avoid for a couple of years.
Thankfully I was never part of that, but I was definitely the target.
Got to go, see you. I wrote quickly as the teacher started to talk.
Goodbye Mr. Watson. I barely saw what he had written because I closed the book quickly, not wanting to get it confiscated or anything, god knows then I’d have to go get it back, and that didn’t sound too easy. We went on and on about some weird find X equations and stuff, it was quite dull to be honest, and hard to understand. I wanted to ask Sherlock what the answer was, but unfortunately we were given a work sheet and not a free note kind of thing. The problems were quite complicated since I had completely zoned out yesterday, terrified of the book and its powers. Funny, it had only been a day since I woke up thinking I would have no head, and now I trusted the book more than everyone in this room. Now my greatest fear was losing something that had gotten disturbingly precious to me. I would never go all Gollum though, this was a book, an actual person behind it, not some creepy ring that seemed to do nothing but turn you invisible. I had plenty of debates on that topic, but unfortunately the teacher started to talk, rambling on and on about the problems. In the end I had gotten only one right, but that was just luck and blind guesses. When algebra was finally over I trudged over to history, where I sat in the back, yet again, and got the book out while I waited for class to start.
Soooo bored.
Where now?
History. I failed the math sheet since someone had distracted me the entire class.
So sorry Mr. Watson, that really hadn’t been my intention.
Not your fault, you’re bloody brilliant.
Thank you very much Mr. Watson, and may I say you are very nice to talk to.
I’m hungry too. Lunch is next but I don’t want to wait that long.
I’m sorry to hear that, did you eat breakfast?
Yes, of course I did.
Then there is nothing I can say on that matter.
Well I guess I’ve got to go, again.
I’ll just wait here then. Sherlock agreed, and I smiled, tucking it into my desk where no one could hurt it. The class was long, dull, and not nearly as interesting as the book in my desk, if only they knew. I didn’t know where Greg was now, but I doubted he was having any more fun than me. When the class was finally over, after what felt like an eternity, I held the book in my arms and walked back to my locker, digging out my lunch and throwing my backpack of binders and stuff back inside.
“Hey John, how was…where ever you were?” Greg asked with a small pause.
“Miserable, as usual.” I sighed. “How about you?”
“Just as bad, maybe worse. Do you want to go down to the park after school, go swimming before the warm weather leaves completely?” Greg offered.
“I guess it couldn’t hurt, ya. I’ll text my parents later.” I agreed, walking down the hall to the lunch room, the book still in my arms.
“You seem to treasure that book now, anything new?” he asked.
“No, just answers, but it’s still pretty valuable. I spent all night trying to get a human response, but it seems to be all computer answers, monotone and straight from a textbook.” I sighed, another huge lie. We sat at the back of the room, at the end of one of the longer lunch tables. I flattened the book on the table and wrote something, trying to get the message to Sherlock that Greg was in the room as well.
How many minutes are in an hour? I wrote, hoping he wouldn’t come up with some smart-aleck response. We had to look up, once again, everything had to be just like it had been before.
Sixty minutes. He replied, and I tried not to look too relieved.
“See, same sort of answers.” I pointed out.
“Here, let me see.” He said, sliding the book to be in front of him and grabbing the pencil. I tried not to wince as I heard the leather squeak.
Who is sitting to my left? He asked. I almost seemed to pray that Sherlock was smart enough to ignore that question. And, like I hoped, even when we looked up the page was blank.
“Definitely a little computer or something.” he agreed.
“I guess so, but where would it even fit?” I asked with a puzzled expression. This was an honest question, I had no idea where Sherlock could write from.
“Maybe in the cover? Should we try to take it apart?” Greg suggested.
“No!” I said way too quickly, resisting the urge to pull the book back to my side. Greg looked at me with confusion, obviously not understanding my sentimental value for a book.
“It might lose its power if we try to take it apart.” I decided. Greg sighed, nodding his approval.
“I guess we’ll have to settle for the computer then.” He agreed, pushing it back towards me.
“It’s not so bad.” I shrugged, closing the book and swapping it out for my lunch. I started on my sandwich; happy that after all this time I could finally eat something. The topic changed from the book to sports, back to the cave, and then to what we were doing after school. I texted my parents that Greg was coming over, and of course they didn’t care, mom was more worried on what I would want for dinner. I never got an opinion anyway, so I just said that I didn’t care and left it at that. When school was finally over, another millennia of course, we both got out on my stop and went inside to get changed. Greg had a stash of clothes at my house to prevent him from having to go back and forth from houses when he got off of the bus. Mom didn’t know, but I doubted she’d care. Greg went into the bathroom to change and I changed as quickly as I could into my own swim trunks, then scribbled a quick note to Sherlock that I was going down to the park and that I’d be back soon. He told me to have a nice time; thankfully any sarcasm wasn’t noticeable in a book. I hid the book under my bed, buried under some clothes that had gotten lost down there and grabbed my flip flops and towel, heading out the door, where Greg was waiting with a soda, leaning against the door frame and letting the wind blow through the screen door onto him.
“Practicing for your phot shoot later?” I teased, throwing my towel over my shoulder and following him out the door.
“Don’t be mad that I’m prettier than you!” Greg teased in a high pitched, winy voice.
“That’s because of all your plastic surgery.” I laughed, grabbing my bike. When Greg didn’t have his bike at my house he rode on my handlebars, and we just rode cautiously to his house. It was quite difficult, and one time I almost hit the curb, but finally I pulled into his driveway, letting him jump off and run inside, grabbing his bike and speeding out of his own driveway. We rode all the way to the park, I beat him easily but had to stay against the road and stop for cars and people in the sidewalks. Even though our houses were in a very secluded area there was a town not far up the road, with shops, crosswalks, and even busy roads intersecting this way and that. I wasn’t allowed to go down here without a parent until a couple of years ago, and since then I was determined to spend as much time as I could. We crossed a couple of streets, but other than that it was smooth ride to the park. Inside it’s gates it was very nice, sloping green lawns, trees, rivers, and a big lake that was free for swimming. It was pretty full since school let out, but it was mostly underclassman, seniors were ‘too cool’ apparently. I wasn’t complaining though, I was going to enjoy the last warm days of summer while I still could. Greg didn’t waste time, locking both our bikes on the bike rack and throwing our shirt off, plunging into the cool water. It felt nice actually, even though I had to swim through some muck and seaweed to get out and cannonball once more off of the wooden dock. Greg and I spent the rest of the afternoon there, getting out at around five to head back home, soaking wet but with smiles on our faces. We said goodbye once he rolled into his driveway, and I was left with the small stretch until I could park my bike and walk through the screen door again. I walked inside, trying to towel off the best I could before walking along the carpeted floors.
“I’m home!” I called, walking into my room and making sure the book was still there. As I thought, it was, but I couldn’t write now since I was all wet. I wondered what would happen if it got wet, I decided I didn’t really want to find out. I grabbed clothes and took a quick shower before walking back into the living room and sitting on the couch. Dad was awake and looking to be on some hangover, or just recovering, because he looked pretty miserable. Harry had earbuds in, but even from here I could hear the loud guitar and drums blasting out of them. Mom was busy getting dinner ready, and, being the good son I am, I sat on the couch and tried to act like she didn’t need any help. The TV was on, just the weather, which I toned out of. I wanted to be back with Sherlock, but I decided not to sneak off until after dinner, when we could talk fully. After a while mom called that dinner was ready, and the three of us managed to migrate from the numerous chairs and couches to the kitchen table. She had made spaghetti with meatballs, definitely a good meal. The meal was just small talk, what I did at the lake, how school was, how Harry’s day went even though she never left the couch except for food. Nothing very interesting had happened over the course of the day, so we were left in silence to enjoy our meal. When the dishes were done and I was able to leave, I headed straight back to my room where I knew Sherlock was waiting patiently. I locked the door, making sure no one wanted me, and pulled the book out, sitting against the wall on my bed.