The prologue of my recently named sub-project. For clarification at this point, it's based in Southern Alberta, in a town outside of Calgary.
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Why was there no air conditioning? That was the only question I wanted an answer to. Reviewing for final exams had always been tedious, but this June was sweltering.
Studying would be futile. I knew that much. The tap of fingers on desk tops, the tick of the clock—God, I hated ticking—on the wall, and the rhythmic fanning of review sheets was all too much of a distraction.
I needed to get out.
My hand shot up and I barely waited to be called upon before darting out of the room with the explanation “getting a drink.”
The hallway was graciously cool, more so than I had dared to hope. I considered ditching school for the last half an hour, simply not going back to class. One of my friends would surely grab my books for me. I had for them numerous times. At least one of them a month disappeared from class and never returned. They would definitely get the hint.
I let myself slide to the floor, longing for the cool darkness of my colossal, ancient house. Flipping every fan in the house on would be so much more satisfying than another half an hour in the heavy air of the classroom.
“I don’t know! I’ve never ran into this before!” the suddenness of the voice made me jump. It was the principal’s voice, though I’d never known him to sound so exasperated. The nameplate on the door opposite my Social classroom read ‘student counseling.’
I knew I shouldn't have, but I couldn’t help myself. Quietly as I could, I climbed to my feet and crept across the hall, crouching next to the door.
“Neither have I! Do you think we should tell him? Or let the police? It’s your call,” the counselor replied.
“Do you think we could handle that? How does a teenage boy react to this kind of thing?” the principal was pacing. I could hear his heavy footfalls go back and forth.
Barely able to keep myself quiet, I bit down on my thumb. Really, I should have been worried about my Social teacher coming to look for me, but I didn’t. The thought didn’t even cross my mind. Not once.
“Absolutely not, but I think we should anyway. It’s better if someone he knows tells him first. I still can’t believe it. In Murphy? Someone gets shot in a bar in Murphy? And her of all people…” the councilor answered quietly, sighing heavily.
My whole body was rooted in place, completely rigid. I should have left right then and there. But I didn’t. I couldn’t.
“I never thought I’d have to tell a teenage boy his mother’s dead,” the principal sighed heavily, his pacing finally ceased, “I’ll go get Tim Brown.”
I choked. I choked on nothing at all, but I couldn’t get air. Inhaling had become an impossible feat. My reeling mind had stopped short. Not a thing went through it but a tingling numbness.
No. I couldn’t believe it. No… No, no, no, no, no! This was a dream. The heat was getting to me. At any moment Mrs. Natchuk would holler at me to wake up. I was silently begging her to. In a corner of my mind I registered her droning voice floating out of my Social classroom just beyond the door across from me. The classroom was suddenly painstakingly distant. The whole world had suddenly become painstakingly distant.
The rigidness of my joints suddenly broke. Before I could even comprehend, I was running. The door didn’t stop me. I burst through it, still in the efforts to put as much distance between myself and the counselor’s office as possible.
They were wrong! It couldn’t be my mother, not mine. She said she would never leave me. Ever. Period. Not once had she ever broken her promises to me. Not once had she ever promised something that she could not keep.
Ridiculous. How could she break half of them all at once? That was not the Tay Brown I knew. The principal, the counselor, they didn’t know my mom like I did. She would never do this to me... would she?
Forced to catch my breath I stopped. I couldn’t tell you were; I don’t remember it that clearly. I did a quick assessment. I was fifteen, I had no money, and as of now, I was an orphan.
This was a situation that could only be described as one thing: typically Tim Brown.
The above was all that I caught.
