The Jump That Left Me Stranded

Chapter 5

It may have been a surprising relief - going back to Summit Secondary - but that doesn't stop it from being an enormous sap on my energy. By the time last period rolls to a finish and I sweep away my history book, I feel well and truly spent. It's like the aftermath of a bout of anxiety, only without the sore eyes and burning throat. 

And what's worse is that I haven't talked to anyone, and that frustrates me beyond belief. At least before I stayed isolated because of my crippling social awkwardness, and even then I still made conversation. Now it's almost as though my words have up and left, because my mouth is barren and when I open it to speak, only breath tumbles out. And even then, the breaths are heavy and laboured - almost as though it's a strain on my body to exhale anything but grief. 

I didn't want to admit it - acknowledge it even - but I'd planned a minor landmark event for today. I'd wanted it to be the time when I could wear the mask like I was the mask, make it believable so maybe I could start to believe it. But the idea collapsed before I could cement the foundations; it collapsed first period, I realise, when their eyes chased me like rabid dogs, hungry for information, and I felt like I was wearing the loss on my sleeve more than I thought. 

So I'm back to square one, social interaction-wise; essentially alone save for my parents - but even they can't seem to speak to me any more. When the rain starts dripping from the sky, slow and unpleasant like a collection of spit-strings, I raise my eyes to the heavens and watch the clouds shift, think maybe it's Grace telling me something. Maybe it's her trying to spur me on in any way she can; like when she used to grab my jacket, shove it into my chest, push me out the door, and tell me we were going out. Where? 

Wherever got me out of my head.

So I hook a leg over my bike, strap the helmet snug under my chin, and peddle before I think of where I'm going. I can feel the motion -  the cycling -  thrum through me like a heartbeat, push after push and everything with a purpose. The way it's meant to be. 

I arrive at the university campus almost as shocked as when the idea formed in my head; who knew I had it in me? Still, a promise is a promise - regardless of whether you make it to yourself or someone else. I can be a human, there are people other than Grace on the planet. And though I feel betrayal sting at my skin, blistering and guilty, scolding me for moving on - for trying to move on - it's strangely spurring. Strangely motivating. 

I lean my bike against a lamppost, can't find anywhere to lock it, pray it won't fall and crack, and head into the main grounds whilst unbuckling my helmet, feeling a heady flush rising to my cheeks. My body still hums, still feels as though charged with an electric current, but it's a foreign buzz, nerves and...something else. 

I see her before she sees me, standing strangely alone for someone so sociable. Her head is bent, blonde hair hanging in front of her face in the mask I wish I could wear. I see her swipe at her phone, wonder briefly if I've made an awful misjudgement, but don't have time to think about turning back because someone else has turned and stumbled into me. A strangled yelp flutters from my mouth at the weight on my foot, sudden - too heavy on my converse - and I spring backwards in shock. 

"Sorry! Sorry, ah God, just me an-" His eyes flicker to mine as his hands seek my arms, grip the tops of them to steady me. "Allie? Already at university? You grew up fast," and I can't process the humour when faced with the greenness of his eyes, and my mouth falls open and snaps shut trying to grapple with words. Instead I stutter out a laugh, which sounds more like a strangled animal than a laugh, and my fingers tighten on the helmet because I didn't realise Oscar's face looked that way - at least, I hadn't in the dimness of Johnny's house. 

"Here to see Jenny?" He asks, drops his grip, takes a cautious step back like the kids at school. In that instant the charm drops; his eyes lose the sparkle, my stomach plummets like a dead weight, and I remember the special poison coursing through my blood. Death. Misery. The Ballard illness. I swallow back the disappointment, the bitter taste of realisation, and turn my face back to Jenny's frame; where she had been stood. A frown creases up my forehead when I can't spot her.