One more week.
Her mom had texted her during English class to remind her, but truth be the told the thought hadn't left her head since the day started. Nobody was seeing her preoccupation, only the occasional nudge from the teacher to feign attention to the last few lesson plans before graduation.
One more week.
The rest of the class shuffled out of the classroom as the bell finished ringing, the volume of the chatter drawing out the last few pages of homework that Ms. Johnston was in the middle of assigning. A class full of seniors weren't planning on making the last few days of their high school career count, especially as everybody was swapping details about the end-of-the-year parties and summer plans before heading to college. Anybody with even the slightest excitement planned for the next few weeks way far past paying attention to the last assignments of the year.
With a few more scribbles of the last pages, Marley slid the yellow notebook into her bag and stood to slip into the hallway. It was a long trek across the school to get to geology, going through the back hallways avoided the groups of seniors and juniors that blocked entire pathways with their groups. Attempting to go around them had her bag knocked off her shoulder on more than one occasion.
"Wait–" Marley froze, one foot out the classroom door as she glanced to Mrs. Johnston, an older woman that had been at McKinley since her mother was a teenager. There were only a few times that they had interacted before, usually when a volunteer was picked to answer a question about the previous reading. There was still a taste of bitterness each time Marley thought about the fact that she never raised her hand, but she swallowed the feeling in change for the small pleasantry. "It was good to have you in class this year. I wish I would've heard from you more."
A small shoulder shrug, nearly impossible to see under the long, brunette hair hiding the sides of her face and frame. There was nothing to say except the excuses she gave to every teacher that made the same comment, except this time there wasn't another opportunity next year.
"Any thoughts after graduation?"
A small beat, then the reluctant response.
"I have a cousin out in LA, she offered me to stay with her out there while I take a few classes."
An expected look of shock, just enough judgement to give Marley a clear look at her thoughts: this poor girl, such a silly dream.
"Have you thought about what school? There's some really great ones out west. I'm sure you could get in with one of them, find yourself a nice program."
Marley only returned with a patient smile. There was no use rehashing the argument over and over again. Her mom had already tried a few times, same with the school counselor. Lots of talk about her silly dream, but it was the one thing about her that was unfaltering. The patient smile held, and Mrs. Johnston had gotten the message.
"I'm quite serious. You have some good things going for you, Mary."
Marley was out the door before the sting revealed itself on her face, biting the inside of her cheek as she navigated the hallway.
A few corner turns, and she was in the service hallway. Long, closets and empty rooms lining the sides. The lonesome entrance for the maintenance workers, the only one wide enough to fit some of the machinery in. The volume of the more popular hallways was still heard in echos, but it was the most silence she was going to get until the school cleared completely of students later in the day.
It was a few brief moments of solitude, a break from the noise constantly swirling around her head. Peace.
She hadn't even noticed her eyes closed, her steps slowing to a slow shuffle as the few minutes she had alone ticked away. They only opened with a new sound, a sharp scraping across the tile. A flash of black, and a familiar face sped around the corner with careless speed.
Jake.
Back in their freshman year, he was riding the same scooter down the halls and nearly knocked her head against the wall. It was only a surprising moment of grace that saved her from a trip to the nurse, but it left an impression. A few more near-misses of interaction, a few shared classes where they didn't say a word. It was stupid that she let herself feel the way she did, it was even more stupid that she never acted on it in the years they had spent in proximity.
Mom's voice was in her head, the same advice that was given hours after her first run in with the mysterious boy from the hallways. The same advice that was readily given each and every time Marley complained about her desire to talk with him ever since then.
It was only now that Marley realized that saying now or never wasn't the same as feeling now or never. Now that the time to act was truly running out, the words couldn't be restrained. Even if she had tried to hold it back, her lips were moving far before her mind had caught up.
"You're Jake, right?" Her sudden confidence was too late, her words drowned as he streaked past her.
No hesitation, no pause. Not even a turn around. A few moments later, and he turned down another hallway. Towards the biology and chemistry rooms, probably heading towards the one exit that the school always forgot to alarm.
"Good things going for me." She muttered under her breath, another sting in her chest with the reminder repeating in her head.
He didn't even look at you, he didn't even look at you.
—–
"One more, Jake."
The last straggler, Greg. He had a spot at the bar since the first shift at the factory had let out, racking up drink order after drink order. Only bits and pieces of his sob story had spilled out throughout the night, more than enough for Jake to know that the tab wouldn't be paid off tonight. Last call had been thirty minutes ago, the rest of the patrons had left to carry on at their own houses and let him close in peace.
"No," It was a simple enough answer, and probably the expected answer since Grad had pulled this stint a handful of times since Jake took ownership of the bar a few years ago. Whatever confidence the liquid courage granted him, it was enough for him to try his luck again.
"C'mon," The man slumped back in the chair, obviously not realizing the glazed look in his eye giving away his true state. The half-on tie didn't help either, on the whole it was almost like watching a used car salesman that got dropped in a washer. Sad, pathetic, but a small part of him wanted to laugh. "You tellin' me you have something going on the rest of the night?"
A single push of his palm pressed the cash drawer into the machine, the mechanical latch grinding into place. Likely going to need replaced in the next few years, not immediate enough to happen during the upcoming fiscal cycle. He was still in the red from the past few months of stagnant patrons, no reason to push the non-emergent. It was still a useful enough tactic to break any train of thought coming out of drunk patrons, especially once they started comparing lives to his.
"Keys." Jake didn't glance over, instead moving his hands to fastening the rest of the bottle stoppers. A few beats of silence, and he did meet Greg with a knowing look. His face white, the red flush from the beer disappeared. It was a quick way to get people out of the building, even if they had to walk. "You got a place nearby to sober up?"
A groan. "Yeah, Mike's staying late in the shop."
"Guess you better get going, that's a block and a half away." It was almost satisfying getting an eyeroll in response. The customer service aspect of bars usually took this route. "Keys." A small reminder, met with the sound of metal hitting the bartop.
"You're a son of a bitch, you know that?"
"A son of a bitch that'll let you shift some money around so your wife doesn't find out how much you've spent here tonight." That did the trick, well enough for a chuckle to come out of the poor man. "You have a week, I mean it."
"Sure, sure." He stood up from the bar stools, confirming Jake's suspicion to take the keys away early. A few steps, nodding along to the promises to pay the tab off in full. Another promise to pay extra, a couple of empty notions that would be forgotten by the morning. It was all heard before, the same routine each time.
"You know," Greg's face was serious this time, probably some other attempt at coming up with a grand gesture of appreciation. It looked like he was sending a probe deep into his mind, obviously coming back empty. The uncomfortably long beat ended with the hint of a smirk, stench of Jack hitting Jake's face like a wall. "Maybe you'll have a missus one day, then I'll repay the favor."
The clenched jaw in response was a well enough warning, with Greg slipping out the door before fully finishing the sentence. Jake watched from the glass door front as Greg took a few stumbling steps down the block, quickly passing the dark alleyways and disappearing from view.
"Asshole."
The rest of the street was quiet, at least from the view of the front door, an occasional car passing by and the hum of the heating unit out back. A quiet night that was common enough for the line between calming and purgatory was blurred. Tens of thousands of dollars spent turning the downtown streets into the city's attempt of an entertainment hub. The replaced streetlights and sidewalk didn't change the core of Lima's marketing problem: nobody past the age of twelve ever wanted to stay. Those that did were disenchanted with the idea of pretending, leaving the streets dead.
The minute most people turned eighteen, they followed the closest college acceptance letter out of the state. One by one, until all that was left were the warm bodies keeping the basic infrastructure of the town alive. That's where he came in; someone had to give the poor suckers in town a place to escape home.
Get a grip. The thoughts were shaken off, left on the floor to be swept up later.
One hand reached up to turn the deadbolt of the door, latching it as the other hand reached for the switch to the outdoor sign. The same motion he did on every closing shift, but with one glance out the window his eyes froze on a sight across the street. A flash of blonde, meant to be hidden under a grey hoodie. A face he hadn't seen in almost a decade.
That was a lie, but barely. It was a face he saw constantly, almost to the point of being sick of it. She always looked different than she did in high school, she changed her hair and it was on the front page of a magazine. Internet articles were the first to start popping up, the occasional editorial by the local newspaper whenever they caught wind of the girl from Lima living in Los Angeles. Then the music found it's way over here, and the town may have well caught on fire. Everybody was seeing her photos at award shows, photo shoots, concerts. It took over a year before he listened to anything himself, and he had run out of excuses to avoid it six months before that. All the articles about multi-platinum albums, Billboard singles, awards with the qualifier of "youngest ever" before them. She was kind of a legend around here, the girl that got out. Not only that, she was the girl that got out and made it.
Marley.
The door couldn't open fast enough, by the time he felt the outside air on his skin and called out her name again she was already inside her car and starting to leave the parking lot. He still heard it echo back to him, bouncing off the concrete walls with nobody else to hear it.
She was in a hurry, enough of a hurry to nearly run to her car from the late-night convenience store. The last anyone remembered seeing her within Lima city limits was graduation, but now she was here again. In town, in the middle of the night, running from a convenience store in a piss-poor attempt at a disguise. He could see peering over her shoulder as she reversed out of the parking lot, a clearer look at her face.
"Marley!" He called again, but she put the car in gear and drove down the street. Just like that, the street was once again quiet and frozen.
She didn't even turn around. He was alone again, the dark wood of his bar barely lit with the fluorescent lights. Most had given up hope that she'd ever acknowledge her history with the little Ohio town post-graduation, but she was here again. She was here, and she was definitely hiding.
The switch to the outside sign flipped, the buzz of the neon sign died. Why didn't she turn around?