It is Awkward

School has an odd way of making you hate it yet love the people you meet. I hate both. I've been the new boy at my school for nearly five months. Since my family's life of poverty was flipped on its head I've seen my entire world open up; it's like I was living in a cave. This time last year, I was 'too poor to have a Valentine'. This time this year, I just don't have the guts. Seriously, "Valentine's Day is the root of human anxiety." ~ Albert Einstein. (Don't look it up. I'm telling you what 'the government' doesn't want you to know.) But school has an odd way of giving you the perfect friends, a perfect love life and perfectly supporting your dreams to be a pro football player like your older brother. That, or it crushes you. It just crushes you. Your dreams? Crushed. Your friends? Meh. Your love life? Nonexistent (but as soon as it exists, CRUSHED). But we don't know what will happen for sure, right? I'm Roman Turner, but you can call me "the cool man". Gosh, I know I'll cringe at this later.

The train ripped past her, turning the pages of her book. Cradling the book in her arm, she dusted off her skirt.

That was too close.

Shuffling towards the wall of trees, she kept walking, then stopped.

Where - is my bookmark?

For a moment, losing her bookmark was all-consuming. Then that moment passed; she kept walking.

I don't need the train.

The tracks to her right glistened in the sun. She dared to tread on the tracks, for the fun of it, and rays raced down the burnished steel, into the horizon. She slipped a little, it had rained earlier. But regaining balance, she stepped right into the middle. And walked, book in hand.

'She was a hopelessly cold mystery.'

The line made her smile.

Cliché.

Closing the book, she spread her arms, lifting her sneakers over the shallow puddles between each steel bar crossing the track. Thin, translucent clouds floated towards the city square in the horizon, far from the school, slowly painting the rest of the world orange. Suddenly, a disturbance in the trees ahead frustrated her attention.

Coal-black trousers and a golden arm. A deep red shirt and black school shoes.

Arms down - she felt it natural to hide, even if it was obviously another student. Slowing down, she covered her face with a random page of her book, peeking over the top just enough to see.

Some bald-looking boy emerged from the brush on the wall of trees and jogged away, only barely noticing her. A moment's curiosity pricked at her lung as the figure shrunk ahead, but turning the page to where her bookmark was, she shrugged it off.

I have no idea who that is.