CHAPTER VI: RUNNING PLACES

It wasn't like I had seen this coming. After the 'now-forgotten' interaction I had with my mother, I had bravely decided to distract myself from letting my feelings overwhelm me too much. And, as I was currently tired from having to remove all thoughts of academics and a specific girl inside my head, I had a lot on my mind. So, what did my 18-year-old teenage boy at heart do? Watch random videos of Youtube without any sense of time and body rest. I continued to do so, turning off the lights in my room, planning the times when to watch and when to pretend you're asleep until my parents go to their room. Though my arms were sore from pulling up and down the covers in immediate acting, it at least helped entertain my multitasking mind.

Now, back to the present, I am now running my ass off as I pray that first period does not start yet. I was lucky that my parents were off to visit my grandparents today, yet unlucky at the same time because I had no car to ride in. I would take an earful from my parents (including my mother, I am this desperate) instead of feeling like I was in a literal desert because of the sun's rays shining down at me.

I could feel sweat disgustingly stick itself to the fabric of my shirt, and the beads of sweat in my forehead would be enough to fill up a bucket. I take a quick glance at my wristwatch, five minutes left.

Finally, like a man reaching Nirvana, I could see the school gates and quickly ran towards it. The halls are thinning out, and I sprint to my locker and grab the required book for today's lesson. I had already missed home room; I couldn't dare miss more or else it would be handing my head to my mother on a silver platter. Once I had seen the room my fellow classmates were assigned to, I swiftly opened it and plopped at my desk.

I could feel people staring, but soaked-in-sweat, heaving breaths me didn't care. There was a muffled snicker beside me, and I peek to see Caleb trying his best to hold his laughter. If I had more energy I would jab his side, so I tiredly mutter. "Laugh, I don't care. I feel like I've run a marathon."

Caleb laughed like he inhaled a ton of cartoon laughing gas. Words could not describe how much he annoyed me, but I couldn't really take it back something I've already said, sarcastic or not.

"But it was your fault in the first place? I bet my whole thumb that you stayed up late again." His previous amusement turned into worry. "I'm going to be honest with you, but I don't think that's a good way to 'distract' you from those thoughts. And you know what thoughts I'm talking about, Malcolm."

I didn't say anything. He was right. I had to find something else, before this pattern repeats to the point where my personal life would get involved. It's just that that I couldn't and so, "I don't know how, Caleb. I'm trying, but I have no idea what to do."

He gives me a pitiful look, to which I ignore and divert my attention on reading our previous lesson. Mother was right, I have no time for pity, or finding distractions. I must focus on what I am capable of doing: studying in order to go to a college worthy of my academical achievements and standards.

Focus.

Focus.

Focus.

Focus.

Focus.

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I am running without taking time to catch my breath. It only comes up in short puffs, yet I wasn't bothered at all. My lungs are bursting with fatigue and exhaustion, but I feel that my legs could run around the world in circles if I wanted to. The bag slung on my shoulders is slowly slipping. The wind has never been colder to me than before. Goosebumps emerge from my skin but I continue to run.

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//

She looked at me, before using her hand to pinch the bridge of her nose. My father stood up from the couch and placed a hand on her shoulder, silently signaling her to stop. She sighed and placed a hand on my shoulder, making me flinch. She gently squeezed it, "Do better next time, alright?"

"Yes, mom."

"I know you can." She smiled, the frustration in her tone dissipated into a familiar gentle, soft voice. "Because you are my son."

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Focus.

Focus.

Focus.

Focus.

Fo—

"Cute boy?"

I stopped in my tracks.

She stood in front of me, a curious look etched on her face. I look around, and I've come to realize that I had been running to the place I only know where to go. The bridge, as study as ever, and the sunset were in full view. Her hair gently swayed through the wind, and I wondered if mine did too.

Speak, I urge my mind, however my mouth did the complete opposite. Well, what do you say to girl you made her hold to an assurance of meeting again?

Whether it was because of obvious signs of discomfort or her thinning patience in waiting to say something, she cleared her throat. I look at her, and she does it back. I awkwardly swing my bag into a more secure position in my shoulder, and she snickers. And slowly, the curves of her lips stretch into a smile that have left a bad impression with me until now.

I press my lips into a thin line.

She tilted her head, as if beckoning me to say— to do anything.

And that I did, with a tight-lipped smile but a smile, nonetheless, "Hi." I spoke.

Her smile, if it is even possible, widened even more. "Hi, cute boy. Mind if I keep your word from before and be your company?"

For some reason that I couldn't fathom, I didn't say no.