Blair Silver

Part 4: A Helping Hand

For the next week, I keep myself very focused on making sure I have all my stuff before leaving the school, because even though it was worth waiting in the cold for the next bus (which was late, by the way) to talk to Blair Silver, I still don't want to have another experience like that. Me and rushing? Horribly bad idea. I'm not sure I'd survive if I tried that again.

It's on Tuesday the following week as I'm carefully thinking through my schedule to ensure I don't forget anything I'll need in my locker when I receive a text. It's from my mom.

Chaotic Rose Mother:
Don't forget: dinner with the Grahams tonight. We need to leave at 4:50 at the latest to make our reservation.

I get home around 4:30 most days. 4:45 if the bus is late. Which would give me five minutes to get ready, and the restaurant we're going to is pretty formal, so my mom would be not very happy about that, and I don't want to deal with my mom when she's not happy and already probably stressed out because she always is, especially when it's not just having people over to our house or going to theirs, and we actually have to go to a restaurant (I have no idea why we are tonight, but I think my mom works with one of the Grahams and something good happened with the company so promotions...?).

Just thinking about it is making me stressed out. I pull out my phone as I close my locker, checking to make sure the bus is on schedule. Jillian takes my phone from me as we start walking, giving me a look that tells me I'm not allowed to walk and look at my phone at the same time (I've broken many things via distracted walking). "What are you doing?"

"Checking that the bus is on schedule. We're going out for dinner tonight and if I get home late then we might not make our reservation."

"Your mom can't blame you for the bus being late."

"She's going to blame somebody, Jilly. She's been stressed out since this morning."

Jillian gives me a sympathetic look as she checks my phone. I focus on getting down the stairs safely despite the rowdy teenagers.

"It looks like it should be fine," she tells me once we can hear ourselves again (the stairwell echoes, and teenagers are loud enough already, so this is as we're leaving the school). She slides my phone into my jacket pocket and I grin a little. "You have all your stuff?"

"I think so. I went through my schedule as I was packing my bag." I mentally run through it again, getting hit with a mixture of dread and panic as I realize I didn't go through the afternoon classes. I stop walking. "We didn't have anything new for the afternoon classes, right?"

"There's the chemistry lab-"

I groan. Shoot. I look backwards at the school, wondering if I'll be able to make it or not. I need to get to the bus stop before the bus gets here, but our chemistry lab needs to have part one done by tomorrow so we can do the next experiment. It's not a lot of work, but I have other things to do on the bus in the morning and at lunch so I wouldn't have time tomorrow-

Jillian looks just as stuck as me. "Theo... go get your lab. You have time until the bus gets here. Just go briskly and carefully. I'll try to hold the bus as long as I can if it does come. Go."

I hesitate a moment more, before Jillian tells me I'm wasting time, prompting me to start quickly walking in the direction of the school. Every step feels like a death sentence. My mom will kill me if I'm late. And if I miss the bus, I'll be super late.

By the time I get to the school, it's mostly empty. I swallow and pick up my pace a bit.

I get upstairs to my locker without tripping or otherwise injuring myself, and get my lab booklet and chem textbook and notebook, not taking the time to stop and put them in my backpack and opting to carry them instead. I need to make the bus.