SHAWN
It's been a few days since everything fell apart and somehow started falling back together.
The cafeteria is buzzing with so many different sound. The kind of loud that used to irritate me, but now feels like something steady.
Normal.
Trays are clattering around me while I hear conversations bounce the walls, and the smell of foods feels up my mind already.
I sit at our usual table, spinning my fork in a mound of oven baked pasta that tastes like cardboard and regret. I keep watching people talk, laugh and eat.
"Hey," I hear a quiet voice that is meant only for me to listen.
I look behind and my eyes fall onto hers. And we look at each other long enough to stir something low in my chest.
"Hey," I echo, watching her sit beside me with her lunch tray.
We haven't talked much since that day actually. I was so embarrassed about the way I broke down infront of her. And I'm sure she was feeling a bit uncomfortable so she didn't talk much.
Before I could speak, a familiar whirlwind drops into the seat across from us—Sheryl, all neon energy. She slams her tray down dramatically, nearly knocking over her juice.
"If this chicken is rubber again, I'm suing the school," she says rolling over her eyes.
"Do you ever just sit quietly and eat?" I ask, raising an eyebrow. "You do know how foods are here, right?"
Sheryl gasps like I've offended her ancestors. "Do you ever stop judging people with your eyes of disappointment, Pastor Shawn?"
I seriously don't have any words to argue with her right now. "Whatever you say, Sheryl."
"Damn! You let me win an argument that we didn't even start yet!"
I'm quite surprised too. Probably I'm still feeling bit down about those things.
Avery snorts into her spoon. It's not a laugh exactly, but it's the closest I've heard in days.
Jose arrives a second later, juggling two chocolate milk cartons like they're precious cargo. "Move over, peasants. The king of lactose has arrived."
"You need help," Avery mutters.
"I do. And therapy costs too much," he says cheerfully, plopping down beside Sheryl.
"So, get this," Jose starts, unwrapping his sandwich. "I went home for two days and ended up repainting my mom's entire kitchen because my six-year-old cousin thought the walls were his sketchbook."
"Cool," I say.
"It wasn't really cool, bro. Last time, I had to catch a hamster that got lost because my cousin took him for a little walk in the park. This time, Crayons!"
Sheryl cackles, nearly choking on her food. "I want to live at your house."
"No, you don't," he says, shaking his head. "Trust me."
Everyone's laughing, and for a moment, it almost feels like I wasn't broke anymore.
Avery's silent, though. She listens, she smiles once or twice, but she's distant in that way only I seem to notice. So, I lean toward her, keeping my voice low, just for her.
"I've been thinking," I begin.
She looks up at me slowly.
"I'm gonna quit. The cigars. The drinking."
She looks at me, confused. Her fingers stop moving.
"I mean, I know I can't just snap my fingers and stop," I admit, tapping the edge of my tray. "But I'm going to try. Bit by bit."
She doesn't say anything, but her eyes are like full of some hope. Maybe for me.
"For me, I mean for myself. I need to be better." I add taking my glance from her. "But maybe also… for you."
Her mouth parts like she's about to say something, but instead, she just nods and smiles slightly.
After finishing lunch, we all head towards the conference room as we were called. The hallway is chaos—students shouting, lockers slamming.
Then the speaker system crackles overhead, and Principal Carter's voice echoes through the building, sounding like he's announcing a disaster drill.
"This is Principal Carter. Please note—we will be hosting a friendly football tournament tomorrow at 10 a.m. First-year students of St. Lawrence College versus first-year students of Queen's University . Attendance is mandatory. Participation is optional. Check your student email for details. I'm looking forward to the match. Thank you."
"Bro, you're dad sounds so cheerful about the match. Maybe for your participation?" Jose asks.
"Dad?" Avery turns towards me.
"Yeah. The principal is his dad. I thought you... knew that."
"Well no one cared enough to tell me that."
I clear my throat. "Uh.. you never asked for my full name actually."
"Yeah, my fault" she mutters.
The hallway explodes with noise. Cheers, groans, random questions shouted into the void.
We head back to our room to start the next day.
My alarm goes off sharp at 7:30 a.m. I groan, roll over, and smack the snooze button—but I don't go back to sleep. Today's important. I got a match to lose.
I really don't want my dad to celebrate.
I don't want him to have even a slight of happiness.
Sunlight filters in through the blinds, streaking across the floor. I stretch, run a hand through my hair, and head for shower. As I open the door of the washroom, Avery shouts, "CLOSE THE DOOR!!"
I close the door instantly.
I didn't see her. I didn't see anything. I didn't.. Ugh I did!
I just saw her naked back. She was wrapped in a towel but I saw her half naked back.. her shoulders.
She comes out the bathroom. "Don't you know how to knock?"
I stare at her for a moment.
Her hair is wet and all curled up. She looks... beautiful.
I look away. "Don't you know how to lock the door, Dramaqueen?"
"The lock is jammed, remember?"
Oh right! I forgot the door lock got jammed yesterday. I was supposed to get it fixed.
"I'm sorry. I forgot. I didn't see anything. Really."
"I told you not to call me that."
I raise both hands, laughing. "Hey, I didn't call you a hurricane."
"You're insufferable."
"And yet," I toss her sweatshirt toward her bed, "you keep showing up."
She catches it with a glare and drags herself to her feet. "Yeah as if I like being teased."
I snort. "Or maybe…" I drawl, opening the door and peeking back at her with a grin, "you just like me."
Her face turns bright red. She throws her pillow at me—but I dodge and run, laughing all the way to the bathroom.
We are bit of a mismatch.
If I'm the water, she is the fire, yet we get along somehow.