The Geek Revolution ✓

44 | ditch

BENJAMIN WAS IN MY DREAMS.

Not in any romantic, or even remotely pleasant way. We were standing on opposite sides of a massive chessboard; him playing black and I, white. The physics and location of the dream were entirely sketchy — considering there were angry, roiling black clouds in the background and grotesque pieces that moved through telepathy. His face looked as noble as ever, but his eyes glowed a demonic red just before his queen struck my king and I woke up.

I have a moment of overwhelming panic as I bolt upright. The feeling is reminiscent of walking on supposedly flat ground, not seeing a sudden drop, and the clench of your heart as your body is taken unawares. My stomach feels upset, chest heaving, breaths coming like the room is on fire and oxygen is burning out.

Eventually, slowly, it fades to a mild alarm. Mostly regret about what happened between Benjamin and me yesterday. I wonder if he's thinking of the fight, too. Probably not, seeing as that would be a waste of time, energy and brainpower that would be more worthy dedicated to stupid math competitions. True to form.

Half of me wants to cut the pride out of my body with a sharp knife — I'm sure there's a gland in the brain that's responsible for hasty, impulsive stupidity — and reach out to Benjamin, but the other half desperately wants him to come to me. I shouldn't have to be the one who props his hopes and dreams up, without him returning the favour. If I support him unconditionally, shouldn't he do the same?

I don't imagine Benjamin will seek me out any time soon because I'm clearly low on his list of priorities. First is the Eastern League, second is the valedictorian's trophy, followed by all his AP classes and probably his car before he even spares me a thought. Inanimate objects and schoolwork over friendship.

Whatever. I push the troubling thoughts to the back of my mind. Maybe I can stew more about it after I get through today. When the thought of going to school appears, I sense something wrong. My room is much warmer than it usually is at six in the morning, and a quick check of my phone reveals—

I overslept. By three hours. What the fuck? How come my alarm didn't wake me? Surely, I wasn't that absorbed in my dream.

A blue post-it on my bedside table catches my eye. It reads, Heard you tossing and turning all night. Please finally get some much-needed rest today. It's weeks overdue. Breakfast is downstairs, reheat it. Love, Mom.

She must have taken it upon herself to switch off my alarm before I woke up. Was I really that loud last night? Nevertheless, her words calm me. This has been a hard week, and she noticed. Talking to Derek shook me up, questioning Terrence on the bus threw me into conflict, it all came to a head with Benjamin yesterday, and project deadlines have been raining down on me. I don't know how I've managed to stay on my feet.

I haven't made a habit of ditching, but this Mom-ordered rest day comes right when I need it. Seeing Benjamin is something I am dreading, much less prepared for. And a break sounds like the best way to reset for next week. Downstairs, I find the plate of hash browns, streaky bacon and scrambled eggs that Mom left out on the counter. I lazily eat it while watching reruns of an old soap opera I never finished.

Once I'm full and feeling more energised, I dress warmly and leave the house. I can't remember the last time I went somewhere without a heavy backpack full of books weighing me down. For once, all I carry is my phone and keys.

I can see tiny leaf buds on the skeletal tree branches lining the sides of the footpath, lime green and each only as large as a grain of rice. While adults work and children study, the streets of Carsonville are completely still, the picture of painted rooftops and pruned lawns suspended. When I breathe in, the air is cold, sharp, and sterile. Every breath I take feels medicinal, every exhale a cleanse of the stress that has been accumulating.