August 19 • Monday
(9:51 pm)
"A lot of things in life can be compared to riding a bike or trying your shoes- you just never forget how to do them. That's what blending in is like for me. A new town, a new school, and a new day passed by and I went unnoticed. I'm not going to tell you who I am right off the bat; you have to find that out for yourself. If you're willing to listen, really listen, you'll be able to hear more than I say. Then you'll know me.
"Most people in this school have spent four years in it. They might have felt a shred of awe on the first day, but it was quickly swallowed by fear as they saw all the strangers crowding around them. Every day after that was the same; it's just school. They could direct me through the halls, I'm sure, because they know them like they've lived there their whole lives. But apart from the crowds, I wander alone, and see the intricate beauty in the old stone walls. Someone once cared, loved this school and put details in it for someone, someday, to see.
"If you've never traced your fingers over the rough stone walls, if you've never looked down at your feet to see the patterns in the tile, if you've never counted the tiny insignias painted over nearly everything- then you have not known your school. Open your eyes. Learn to see.
"-F-"
Finnley hit the enter button and shut his laptop before he could overthink the post again. He had written and rewritten it so many times by now that he wasn't so certain he could keep this promise. But somehow, somehow he did.
He stood up with a yawn and stretched, the poked his head out the door. "Mom?" he called down the hallway. She emerged from her room and looked at him with a weary smile. "Mom, I finished the blog post."
"Did you?" she replied, her face brightening considerably. Finnley just nodded. "That's wonderful! Now- now I know we made that decision-"
"Please Mom," he said, running his fingers through his hair. He had only had one request. "Don't go looking for it. You won't find it, and I'm not ready for you to read it."
"But you're fine with letting perfect strangers read it?" Her smile slipped into a frown.
"They won't understand all I write," Finnley said in a placating tone. "They won't care about it either. It won't mean to them what it means to me... and you."
His mother smiled sadly and wrapped him in a hug. "Awe alright sweetie, as long as you're okay." Finnley nodded and smiled again. "Well, sleep tight. Do you need anything?"
"Nah, I'm just going down to... Get a drink," he said, shifting slightly. His mom narrowed his eyes.
"You're not taking Rory up with you again, are you?"
"...No."
"Finnley, you can't sleep with your rabbit! You might smother him!" Finnley sighed. Sometimes her moods changed so drastically. And HE was supposed to be the teenager here. She needed a day off, and badly.
"Go get some sleep, Mom," he said, gently rubbing her back. "You look dead on your feet. I'll see you tomorrow, alright?"
"You're right, you're right," she said weakly. He walked her back to her room and they hugged again. Once she was safely inside, Finnley crept down the stairs. Between the kitchen and the living room was Rory's hutch, and he scooped up the fluffy tan and white rabbit. He stroked Rory's head as he nudged the hutch closed with his knee and shuffled up the stairs.
Lying on the bed in his room, Finnley sharpened a pencil and started a fresh piece of poetry. Of all the basic classes he had to take- PE, math, science, history, English and whatnot- he had liked the PE was the worst. He hated it. Luckily, he was able to balance it out because this school offered a poetry course. A class all about poetry, he thought with a soft smile.
As the minutes ticked by, Finnley made neat calculations for his math homework, started the first chapter of some novel he'd never heard of for English, and wrote out a generic "About Me" page that worked for all of the classes. Sighing as he glanced at the time, Finnley put some music on his iPod and tried to do a little research on the new town he found himself stuck in, and the forest that bordered it. Nothing unusual, but then again there wasn't much on the history of the town. Maybe it wasn't online; the library was always a good place to go, if only he felt like leaving the house.
After maybe an hour of doing that, Finnley gave up and pulled out his book of poetry, settling Rory in his lap. Finnley absentmindedly petted Rory while he read the book. Sometimes he felt that no one understood him but the authors of these poems- unknown or long dead- and his rabbit, who always accepted him for who he was. He heard a soft noise outside of his door, but barely turned his head. His mother was prone to doing late night loads of laundry and other assorted chores. Soon enough, the footsteps returned to the room they had come from.
It was around one in the morning when he saw her, standing in the corner of his room. Slowly, as if he didn't notice that he was doing it, he pulled out his earbuds and sat forward attentively. "Allie," he breathed, softly, as if worried that his voice would send her into flight. Her face was shadowed, but she raised a finger to her lips, a gesture he was infinitely familiar with.
She slipped from the room like a ghost and Finnley followed, silent as death. He followed her out of the house, and the cool night air washed over him in waves, a light breeze whispering through his hair and rustling his clothes, breathing down his neck. They were moving across the law now, across the street, across the town. They were a pair of swift shadows, cutting through the stillness of the night like a knife. He made it almost to the river before she disappeared. Lost again.
Let's begin...
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