Nowhere Man
-By Yo-yo
Disclaimer:C chappie #1.
The night before:
"What in the hell do you think you're doing?"
I think my ear drum just exploded.
"…Aren't you supposed to be Stroke? Number eight seems to be nothing to you! Bring that number down, pump those legs. C'mon, jump from that catch…!"
I want to die.
"We're going to do a power of ten in two…"
A power of 10?!!! Is she crazy? I've got 30 seconds left and I've done well over a 3k. Let me be, please!
"…Two! C'mon DuGrey…nine-pump those legs…remember your technique! Six, DuGrey remember to lean back…sit up straight…four…"
Shut up! Just shut up! God, I can't take this!
"…Three…breathe-two…Ewwwwww!"
My body lunges forward and I vomit on the floor.
"I'm sorry. I wanted you to pick up...not throw up!"
She rubs my back.
"DuGrey, what happened?" Coach asks.
"Nothing, just over exerted myself," I wipe my mouth.
"Are you sure? Were you sick today?"
"I didn't eat lunch today that must be it-"
"But Trist-?"
"I'm okay," I glare at Lane.
He slaps my shoulder and nods.
"You're done for the day. Everyone, you're done, go home!"
He nods and mumbles, "I don't want another repeat of this summer."
"I'll clean up." I push away from the erg and look at the mess at my feet.
It's water mostly, transparent on blue linoleum floor. Like the watery residue of ketchup and mustard, it is yellow from the stomach acid and red from my esophagus.
"Hey DuGrey," coach calls, "make sure you're healthy tomorrow."
I nod and head towards the boys' room.
"What was that about?" Lane pokes me.
"Nothing, just trying not to make a deal of nothing."
"You sure?"
"I'm fine, Penny Lane." I ruffle her hair.
"You better be," she points her finger at me, scowling. "I'm worried about you."
"Don't be," I lean over, ready to place a kiss to her cheek, but she moves away.
"No way, I don't want to smell like puke!" She pushes me away giggling.
God, today has just been weird. First I cheat on Sadie in front of the whole school. Then Paris spazzes out, for what, I still don't know. Then Rita accosts me after classes. And finally this little incident.
Running my tongue over my teeth, I think: If it isn't for the fact that my life isn't that interesting, I would think it was a brainchild of some nerd at the WB.
I am walking down the vacant halls of Chilton, being reminded of the night before my freshman year. The first night The dream entered its existence and has haunted me ever since.
It is déjà-vu. The desolate halls, dark and lonely, are making me feel small again. That feeling of the unknown, the quiet… the cold draft brings back the emptiness that filled me a year and a half ago, while I lay in my bed, awake.
At that time I had no idea what to expect of high school. All I knew was what Dawson's Creek displayed. But the WB never covered freshman year, and it sure as hell didn't cover private school.
As my hand pushes the door to the courtyard open, I know I am in that dream. Because this is the moment when I always wake up… because I know this is the moment that will change my life.
It is like a dream, most of it, finding her huddled under the fountain.
Most of the time I cannot hear what she is saying, but rather, I can hear what she is not saying.
She is not one of us.
She is nothing like one of us.
She hadn't been taught the rules. She hasn't been broken.
She isn't hidden within herself.
"I need to get away from here," she breathes.
One of the first things learned of Hartford society is keep your emotions inside. Every tear, sigh, smile, and frown must be calculated. If your husband's cheating on you suck it up, if your daughter's gay ignore it, if your father hit you say you fell down the stairs, and if the IRS calls cater the party yourself.
If you can't keep up with the Jones'… you better fake it. Because if they find out, your ruined.
But she said it.
She said what we are taught not to speak.
"You're Gilmore, right? I heard…"
She was Mary.
…Far different from everyone here. Those eyes twinkled in pain… displaying any emotion she felt. She was far too innocent to be here.
"Why are you here so late?"
I look away.
Her eyes tell me what I cannot comprehend. They tell me of anger, hate, disappointment…love.
They tell me of the freedom to express and I look away… I don't have that same freedom.
But I do have something she needs:
"…tell me where you want to go…"
"Anywhere?" she trembles.
"Anywhere."
TBC…
A/N:Wow, I haven't written one of these in a long time. I missed writing to you guys. Hope you really like this story, b/c I do. Don't worry. I'm not abandoning it. And guess what?!!!!! Two chapters and then I can resume "Strawberry Fields." It's so exciting! Well, anyways, read and review… I love your reviews and since I'm not online right now I can't remember the name of the reviewer, but I liked her review b/c it made a lot of sense. She read into my characters and came up with some pretty logical assumptions. Well, we'll just have to see what actually plays out. Sorry this chapter is so short though, I didn't want to recap the entire chapter nine of SF, b/c that would just be boring. And plus Rory's point of view was imperative for that part. The next day is Tristan's Pov.
w/ luv,
Yo-yo
P. S. An erg is the name of a rowing machine. More officially it is an ergometer. If your school has one, or gym, you should use it, it gives you a full body exercise, and rowing boys are hot!