Last Light Falling (13 page)

Whether or not what Father Joseph told us was true, it’s my choice to believe it or not. It’s becoming painfully apparent that my faith is lacking, but I’m beginning to see now.

I slowly descend the stairs, less excited about today’s venture, as I’m disinclined to convince Myra again about our afterschool rendezvous. Surprisingly, she’s very understanding about us coming home a little late from school, and she has no quarrels about any afterschool programs. I feel somewhat guilty lying to her like this, but I have no choice. This is the way it has to be.

Before we leave for school, I embrace her longer than normal. I even give Daniel a hug, clasping onto the back of his jacket as if this is the last time I will see him. Gabe follows suit. You can tell Myra knows something is up, but she doesn’t make too much over the exchange of long good-byes.

“Okay, what are you two up to? You need something?” she asks with a half-crooked smile.

“No, we just appreciate all you have done for us over the years. We can’t really say enough to thank you, and sometimes it feels much better to just show you,” I say.

Myra looks a little choked up, so she just smiles and gives us one more squeeze of gratitude.

“So, we were thinking about inviting some friends we met at school over for dinner tomorrow if that’s okay,” I say.

“Of course, I will prepare us a nice meal,” says Myra.

As we get out of the car, I spot Juliana waving at us. We meet under the large tree, the same one where McKenzie insulted me on the second day of school. I guess this is sort of our new morning meeting place, but it would only be complete if Jacob were here.

Just as I start thinking about him, two hands cover my face from behind. “Guess wh—” says a husky voice, but before he can get out the word
who,
I’m pushing back with my elbow with extreme force. Down he goes to the ground with my elbow in his chest.

I feel completely mortified when I notice it’s Jacob. “I’m so sorry, Jacob! I didn’t know it was you. I’m so sorry,” I say, trying to help him up.

Okay, now that’s Arena: 2 and Jacob: 0.

“Wow, Arena, a door to the head and a punch to the gut. You sure know how to treat a guy,” Gabe says, laughing.

“Not funny,” I say, staring down Gabe.

Jacob laughs a little and adds to the joy of Gabe’s comments, but I sense he does it just to make me feel better. “Looks like you can take care of yourself. I like that in a girl,” says Jacob with a big grin.

I think he’s made me smile more this morning than I have in the past year.

“Gabe, your eye looks much better and it looks like most of the swelling on your nose has subsided,” says Juliana, as she examines Gabe’s injuries like a well-trained nurse.

The bewilderment on Jacob’s face obliges me to explain Gabe’s misfortunes with Derrick’s fist. “Well, I give you credit for not running from him,” says Jacob.

“Who said I wasn’t trying?” Gabe retorts.

“So, I thought it would be nice if you guys could come over to our house for dinner tomorrow,” I say.

“Sure,” says Juliana, as she looks at Gabe, not necessarily addressing me.

“I could use a good meal,” says Jacob like any typical male would say referring to food. When the bell rings for class, we all agree to meet for lunch at our normal table.

I’m feeling very good today, and there seems to be very little right now that can sour my mood. That feeling doesn’t last long though when I approach my locker and see it covered in honey. Seriously, who takes pleasure in making someone suffer for no reason at all? I can think of nothing that I have done to anyone that would warrant such a shameful act of juvenile mischief. I suddenly remember the soaking of three unpleasant girls and retract that thought. So maybe I do deserve this. I try to delay my accusations, but that lasts as long as it takes my eyes to blink.

I’m assuming this is the work of McKenzie and her two chimpanzees. Let me retract the last part of that statement—two baboons. I don’t want to insult the intellect of a chimpanzee. Who else have I intentionally rubbed the wrong way? I was going to reserve judgment for these three cretins, but I can hear them trying to hold in their laughter, waiting for my reaction around the corner.

It would be all too easy to just snap their little necks, but I’m going to ride this out for the rest of the day and see how much grace I’m willing to extend. I can’t let them see that it bothers me, so I just pretend I don’t even notice it.

As Gabe and I walk around the corner to our class, I address the baboons with a smile. “Hi, nice morning isn’t it? You all have a blessed day,” I say cheerfully, as we pass six stunned eyes and one crooked lip.

“Are you feeling okay?” asks a perplexed Gabe.

“Feeling just fine, my dear brother.”

“Well, stop it because you’re freaking me out.”

At lunchtime, the four of us sit down at our usual spot and discuss the particulars about where and when to meet at our place for dinner. “I can text everyone our address,” says Gabe.

“I don’t have a phone,” says Jacob.

“Okay, I can send you an e-mail then,” says Gabe.

“I don’t have a computer either,” Jacob says.

“Really, how do you communicate with everyone?” Gabe says.

“I talk to them in person,” retorts Jacob, making Gabe look silly, “but if I need to do some research, I just go to the library. I’m not much of a socialite on the Internet.”

“Are you done?” I harshly ask Gabe. He just looks at me with his crinkled nose. “Well, I think it’s a shame we have to depend on technology to communicate. What would we do if everything went down, just sit and twiddle our thumbs?” I try to mask any embarrassment Gabe has unintentionally caused at Jacob’s expense.

“Here, give me your hand,” I say to Jacob. I carefully grab his slightly callused hand and write down my address in permanent marker. I pause for a moment before I add my name, just in case he falls victim to immediate short-term memory loss. Amnesia can be a bitch.

Today’s lunch is less than stellar, but because I’m in a good mood, I clean my tray except for the genetically engineered glob of chocolate gel resting in my bowl. The only resemblance to chocolate pudding I see is the dark skin that’s formed on top, keeping any germs from penetrating the surface.

I excuse myself and take my tray to the wash line. On the way I see McKenzie making a mockery of some poor kid’s clothes at the adjacent table. As much as I want to stuff this chocolate mud in her face, I just concentrate on looking forward, hoping to avoid her unwelcomed company.

Right before I pass her, two guys bump into my tray, it flies upward and sends the paper bowl of pudding onto McKenzie’s chair. I quickly observe to see if anyone saw the flying pudding, but it goes unnoticed. Plus, McKenzie is still taunting the poor guy across the way. I find myself having a battle with my ego—should I do the right thing and say something, or do I pass up an opportunity of what goes around comes around? It is McKenzie after all.

This is quite the conundrum, I reject the latter, but before I can even take a step, it’s too late. McKenzie sits down on the congealed chocolate custard. She quickly stands up, belting out a cry in disgust as the pudding hangs onto the back of her jeans for dear life.

If I hadn’t been pontificating about my dilemma, I could have saved her from the embarrassment. Oh well, such is life. All I hear is a roar of laughter and a very angry McKenzie while I drop my tray off. I don’t look back; I just keep walking, hoping she hasn’t spotted me and making a link to the incident. I can only smile.

Lunch is over and it’s back to another stimulating hour of educational apathy. I know the teachers do all they can to share their knowledge without stepping on the philosophical egos of the administration, but because they are told exactly how to teach, it really cheapens the instruction kids get.

The educational system in this country lacks a sense of encouragement, and has delineated our intellect based on our weaknesses instead of our strengths. It has failed miserably at giving students the skills and tools they need that would have otherwise shaped us for a world that is less appealing now than it was ten years ago. Students are no longer able to foster creativity, distinguishing their gifts from others, but are merely forced by the government into vocations they were not meant for. And from what I now know about my fate in this life, I truly believe that’s exactly what our leaders had intended.

We walk back to our lockers before class begins and just out of sight by the water fountain, I spot Derrick. I grab Gabe, warning him that we should take a small detour. He takes my hand off his arm out of defiance. “No! It’s my right to walk these halls just like anyone else. I’m not afraid.” His hands shake uncontrollably.

“You sure about that?” I ask, looking at his trembling fingers. “Okay then, I got your back, bro.” We walk down the halls with Jacob trailing behind, and, as expected, Derrick spots us like a bird of prey.

He lunges forward and pushes Gabe’s head into the lockers, giving him a small cut from the sharp sides. Gabe tries to stand up, but he slips back down from the force of Derrick’s shoe.

“I think I really need to reevaluate that turning-the-other-cheek thing,” Gabe says as I hold his head up.

“This isn’t the freshman hall. What makes you think you can pass by our hall?” Derrick asks while hovering over Gabe. Derrick couldn’t care less about freshman walking these halls, but because it’s Gabe and me, he feels the need to display his egotistical manhood to the whole school. Of course Derrick is no more of a man than I’m a royal princess
with etiquette. He’s a small-minded, shit-smelling, roid-raging prick, and I’m being nice.

I spring to my feet and sweep Derrick’s legs out, bringing him down hard to the floor. Before he can get up, I’ve already strategically planted my foot on the side of his face and my thumb firmly embedded into the nerve near the back of his spine.

He lays there unable to move, like an opossum waiting for his enemy to leave. I let go after a few seconds, hoping he will understand I’m not here to back down. He struggles to get up, but immediately tries to brush off the embarrassment of being taken down by a girl in front of a crowded hall.

“Is that all you got? You think catching me off guard like that is going to stop me from breaking you in two?” Derrick lunges toward me, but I stand my ground knowing he is too easy to defeat. Gabe tries to get between us, but Jacob pulls Derrick’s shoulder.

“Leave her alone!” Jacob shouts.

Derrick turns and swings his arm toward Jacob’s face, throwing him off balance and falling to the floor.

“What, is this your girlfriend? You honestly think she wants to go out with trash like you? Does she know you’re going to end up like your father? You don’t belong here, Jacob. Go back and stay with the other Watchers,” says Derrick.

My heart suddenly sinks into my stomach as I look down at Jacob’s face. His head tilts downward as if he shamefully accepts Derrick’s comments. I’m saddened by the turn of events and it’s all my fault. I couldn’t care less where Jacob came from. His father’s past matters nothing to me, nor do I feel any different about my relationship with Jacob. I’m more pissed now at Derrick’s comments than I am at what he did to Gabe.

There is nothing but silence now until the second bell rings for class to start.

“This isn’t over. The next time we meet like this you’ll wish you had transferred,” says Derrick, pointing at us. When he leaves, the crowd immediately dissolves.

I walk over to Jacob, but he doesn’t look like he’s in the mood to be helped up; instead, he rejects my hand and pulls himself up, trying to erase the possible embarrassment that he just encountered with Derrick.

While we walk to our class, I waver over the idea of talking to Jacob about Derrick’s cruel intentions. What he said about his father being a Watcher stirs my nerves to the point where I can’t let this awkward silence linger. I hate prying, but I can’t help not knowing, so I just
ask anyway. “What did Derrick mean back there?” I say softly. Jacob doesn’t answer; he just looks down without any emotion, and I know I shouldn’t have said anything.

I move my hand toward his, then interlace my fingers in-between his and hope he doesn’t reject me. His warm hand grasps mine, and I can just barely recognize the corner of his mouth raise as if he wants to smile. This is the first time either one of us has shown any kind of affection toward one another, and it’s the first time I’ve held a boy’s hand like this since Jimmy Larkin in the second grade.

Before we go to class, we pass one of the many televisions that hang in the corners of the hallways and in each classroom. I stop and look at the news playing in the background, which suddenly gives me an idea. “I think I know how we can calm Derrick’s ego,” I say with a big grin.