Momentum

Tuesday.

"Have a good day at school, honey."

"Thanks, Mom," I say, giving her a small wave as I step onto the curb.

"Don't forget your lunch," she says, leaning over and sticking my lunch bag out of the open passenger door.

As I take it from her, I think about what my friends said about me being too old to bring a lunch. My mother handing it to me has made me feel like I'm an elementary schooler who rushed out of the car too quickly.

My first three periods are pretty boring. We take notes in calculus, and our teacher has us watch a video and complete a worksheet in AP Psychology. In English, we create an outline for a paper that's due in a few weeks, but I finish early and spend the second half of the period re-reading Antigone, the play I'll be writing about.

I walk into economics without high hopes of talking to Alex. When she walks in and slides into the seat next to me, I keep my eyes on my notebook and wait for class to begin. I don't want to attempt to interact with her and be disappointed when she ignores me. The bell rings, and our teacher begins what has to be the most rudimentary PowerPoint I've ever seen. I stare at the graphs and charts that appear on the screen as his monotone voice explains the concept of purchasing power. My concentration is broken when I feel something small and light hit the side of my head. I look down and see a balled-up Post-it note land on the floor beside my desk.

I glance at Alex, knowing she must have been the one to throw it, but she keeps her eyes directed towards the front of the classroom. I pick it up and unfold it, confused.

Falling asleep, Toby?

I feel a smile materialize on my face, though I try to suppress it as I scribble a message back.

Do I look tired?

I elect a more polite delivery method and slide the note on the corner of her desk. She scoffs lightly when she reads it and slides it back to me a minute later.

How much did you pay for those bags under your eyes?

I purse my lips and write something back.

Guess I'm just a mess without you.

She reads it and smiles lightly, shaking her head. Her response is prompt.

Me too, Toby.

When the bell rings, she meets me in the hall and throws one arm over my shoulders, and I feel like someone has lifted the weight of the world off my back. I take a deep breath, my head seeming to decompress as a sense of relief washes over me.

"I missed you," she says.

"I missed you too," I respond, and I wonder if she knows how much I mean it.

We make our way to the cafeteria and locate our usual booth. Kelly is already there, so Alex and I slide into the seat across from her.

"Is Chris coming?" asks Alex.

Kelly shrugs. "I don't know."

But only seconds later, the arrival of the fourth member of our quartet is realized when she appears and sits down next to Kelly. For at least a minute, nobody says anything. It's not a sense of hostility that hangs in the air between us, but a sense of uncertainty; I don't know what to say, and I'm guessing nobody else does either.