January 4th, 2018

Things were normal. The mantra had been on a loop in my brain for the last twenty-four hours.

My mom, bless her heart, had taken a walk that had lasted almost three hours. When she’d come back, her cheeks were pink from the cold. She’d walked in, put the kettle on, and had made us both a cup of chai. She hadn't brought it up. Neither had I. It was a silent treaty.

Makaylah and I had Facetimed last night. She’d been curled up on her bed, a textbook open in front of her that she was ignoring.

"So," she’d started. "We're never speaking of it again, right?"

"Never," I'd agreed, my own reflection in the small corner of my screen looking comically serious. "I've already forgotten what a boob is."

That had earned me a small laugh.

Later, my mom had taken the phone from me. I'd sat there, listening to their muffled voices through my door. It had only been fifteen minutes, but it felt like a lifetime. When my mom had handed the phone back, her expression was unreadable.

"She's a good girl," she'd said, and then she'd walked into her room and shut the door.

So, yeah. Things were normal.

The scrape of my chair against the floor was loud in the quiet apartment. I crumpled the silver foil from the pop-tart into a tight ball and tossed it toward the small garbage can under the sink.

The digital clock on the microwave blinked 7:28 AM. School started in an hour. My backpack was slung over the back of the couch, my boots were by the door.

My socked feet made no sound on the worn carpet as I approached Mom's room. I curled my fingers around the cool metal doorknob and turned it as slowly as I could.

Mom was on her side, facing away from me. One arm was tucked under her pillow, the other was thrown out. The duvet was a tangled mess around her legs.

I crept closer. I reached the side of her bed and leaned over. I pressed my lips to the crown of her head. Her hair was soft against my lips.

"Love you," I breathed out.

"Love you too," she mumbled into her pillow. I pulled the duvet up, tucking it around her shoulders.

I let myself out, pulling the door almost shut.

The January air had the kind of cold that made your nostrils hurt when you inhaled. I shoved my hands deeper into the pockets of my black leather jacket, my fingers fumbling for warmth. Frost clung to the windshields of the parked cars lining the street.

Each footstep was a satisfying sound. The steam from the nearby Tim Hortons plumed into the air; a French vanilla would go hard right now, but I had no money. I kept walking, my breath a ghostly cloud in front of me.

The gravel parking lot of Fernie Secondary was already dotted with cars. A few figures huddled near the main entrance, their shoulders hunched. I spotted my friends near the far end of the lot, leaning against the side of Sean's beat-up old Subaru.

Sean slouched against the dented passenger door. His dark brown hair fell across his forehead.

Alex was pacing back and forth, his worn Vans kicking up little puffs of gravel with every turn. His sandy-blonde hair was a mess, sticking up in every direction, and he was gesturing wildly, his words tumbling out of him in a frantic stream.

"Like, what are you thinking, bro? You're just asking to get third-partyed."

I finally reached them. "'Sup, nerds."

Alex stopped pacing. "Finally. Took forever."

"Getting the rust off," I said.

Sean's smile widened. "This shit sucks."

"My mom took my ethernet cable last night," Alex whined, kicking at a loose rock. "Said I need to 'experience the real world.'"

"We all suffer in our own ways," I said, bouncing on the balls of my feet. "I gotta piss."

We fell into formation, three figures trudging toward the main entrance. The doors open, and we were hit with a wave of warm air. The hallways were already filling, a low rumble of chatter and the thud of locker doors echoing.

The bathroom near the gym was my usual spot to piss. It was less trafficked than the ones by the main office. I veered off toward it, the other two trailing behind me. The door swung inward, revealing the slightly grimy bathroom.

I made a beeline for the nearest urinal. Sean took the one next to me. Alex leaned against the bank of sinks.

"You guys get your schedules?" I asked as the stream started.

"Mine's bullshit," Alex said. "They stuck me in Peer Tutoring. Who the hell is going to listen to me tutor them?"

"Maybe they think you can relate to the intellectually challenged," I offered.

"Fuck you," Alex said, but there was no heat in it.

My stream finished. I shook off, zipped up, and moved to the sink. I ran the cold water, the sound echoing in the small room.

"Alright," I said, grabbing the handle. "See you lugs later."

"Bet," Alex called out as I pushed through the door.

The hallway was now a river of bodies flowing in both directions. I navigated the current, dodging a freshman carrying a mountain of textbooks, and took the left fork that led toward the math wing.

Makaylah was at her locker. She was on her tiptoes, one hand braced against the top of the locker as she tried to shove a thick binder onto the top shelf. The effort caused her grey hoodie to ride up, revealing a sliver of pale skin and the waistband of her black leggings.

"Having fun?" I asked, my voice low and close to her ear.

She jumped, her elbow knocking against the metal door with a loud clang.

She turned. The annoyance on her face melted away into a reluctant smile. "You enjoy scaring me, don't you?"

"It's one of my few joys in life," I admitted, leaning a shoulder against the lockers next to hers. "You look like a raccoon trying to reach the last cookie on the top shelf."

She scrunched her nose at me. "Very funny."

"I'm known to be," I said, nodding sagely.

She gave me a look. "Are you going to help me?"

I held my hands up in surrender. "Of course."

I reached up. My fingers brushed against the spine of the binder. In one easy motion, I slid it back and settled it firmly onto the shelf.

"There," I said. "Was that so hard?"

She punched me in the stomach, her knuckles making a soft thud against my jacket. "Shut up."

"So, what's your first class?" I asked.

She let out a dramatic sigh. "Physics."

"Ouch."

"Yeah," she said, pulling a textbook from the bottom of her locker. "Mr. Davison. I heard he's a nightmare."

The warning bell shrieked through the hallways. The river of bodies quickened its pace with a sense of urgency.

"That's our cue," she said, shouldering her backpack. "I'll see you at lunch?"

"You bet," I said. I watched her walk away, her dark hair swaying.

My locker was just down the hall. I spun the combination. The lock clicked open. I yanked on the handle and grabbed the heavy calculus textbook that would be my companion for the next eighty minutes.

I closed my locker, the clang swallowed by the final, frantic bell.