8:35. The clock ticked. Farkle was lazily doodling circles in his textbook. Mr. Rogerson wasn't the best equipped to teach history, but they had no one else. Usually, he just let them read from the book, so History class was now the blow off class.
8:36. Nigel leaned over to Brandon. "You know, if he's not here for fifteen minutes we're allowed to leave." Farkle would have liked that. He wanted to get a new book from the library. Lately, he'd been plowing through them. It just - it just felt good to escape for a while.
8:37. It was 8:37 and Mr. Matthews came through the door. He looked like he had aged a decade over two months. But he was smiling at them and setting his name on his desk.
It was the happiest Farkle had been since the accident. Zay and Lucas were sporting ear-splitting grins. Maya was giving him a watery smile and Smackle looked pleased and triumphant at the same time. In one small moment, Farkle felt something within the group shift. For the first time, he thought they might bounce back after all.
Mr. Matthews had paused at Riley's empty desk, looking so sad Farkle thought he might start crying. But Mr. Matthews looked up at them, smile heavy with doubt, and he whispered, "I'd like to see you guys after class. Don't worry, I'll give you late passes."
And then, he launched into his lesson and Farkle could barely pay attention. He was enraptured, not in the class, but in the idea that Mr. Matthews was here and he was staying. So, he didn't care that the lines in his forehead were deeper than ever and that his voice was lacking the usual enthusiasm because he was here.
All too soon, class ended, but the five of them stayed just like he had asked them to. With a weary smile, Mr. Matthews hopped up onto his desk. The room was quiet for a moment. "You know, I almost didn't come back," he said. "But I think she would've wanted me to. And I don't think I'd have felt quite right if I didn't." He gave a deep sigh, one that seemed to run through his entire body. "How have you guys been holding up?"
And then, like he flipped a switch, Maya burst into tears. Farkle hadn't seen her cry like that since the accident. Mr. Matthews' face softened. He slowly made his way toward her, scooping her up into a tight hug.
Lucas had his hands almost out-stretched to them, fists clenching and unclenching, eyes full of tears threatening to spill over any second. Zay's hand clasped Lucas' shoulder tightly, and through the midst of everything, Smackle's hand had found his.
All Farkle was seeing should have told him something else, but only one thought came clearly as he listened to Maya sobbing into Mr. Matthews' chest and saw Lucas trying to hold back tears. I think we're going to be okay.
-::-::-::-::-::-::-
"Hi, Barbara," Farkle said to the nurse working at the front desk. He didn't know how he knew her name, or how she knew his, but he was at the hospital everyday and so he was on first-name basis with a lot of the doctors and nurses who worked there.
Today, though, Barbara leaned over her desk, resting on her elbows. "Hey, Farkle," she called out. He glanced toward the hallway Riley's room was in, and then he strolled over to the desk. "You're early, you know," she said. "Five minutes until visiting hours start." Farkle nodded. Barbara looked old. Not that old, but older than his parents. Her eyes crinkled when she spoke and laugh lines were written all over her face. Her voice was a little gravelly, like her lungs were made of sandpaper.
Farkle decided he liked Barbara. She reminded him of his gramma. He stood awkwardly for a second. "Who's that you're visiting everyday, hm?" He hesitated. Farkle didn't always like to tell people about Riley. Not if they didn't really want to know, but Barbara seemed genuine and she probably understood better than most. She did work in a hospital.
"My friend, Riley." Barbara nodded, sympathetically.
"Awful young to be in the coma ward."
"Yeah," Farkle nodded. "She is." Her face softened so much, she almost looked like a different person.
"You know, I know this doesn't help, but my husband passed away a little over a year and a half ago. A heart attack at age fifty. I mean, can you believe that? I just… I know that it's hard. And it doesn't always stop being hard. There's not really anything you can say about it." Farkle didn't speak. He thought if he did, he might start crying. Barbara glanced at her watch. "You can go in now."
