Glaring at the wall, I wished that this Saturday would pass much, much quicker. My mom was at work. I mean, c’mon, who worked on Saturdays? Her, apparently. I was beyond bored. Earlier, around noon, I had woken up and taken a walk, half-hoping that I would run into Jonah. I didn’t. So, I returned home rather disappointed. Now, four hours later, I was beyond bored and had absolutely nothing to do. I had finished my homework, studied extra, watched TV, cleaned, went on the computer, and read a little bit of my book. However, I was at the end of my rope, here. I had nothing else to do. Lying back on my bed, I propped my feet up against the wall. I wondered what Jonah was doing now. Why was I thinking about Jonah so much? I tried to think of other things. But it was hard. Last night had been different. It had been special, somehow. I had gotten a glimpse of what the real Jonah was like, and I wanted desperately to see that part of him again. For some reason I got the feeling that he didn’t show his real self to many people, so I felt lucky to be able to see it.
I should go to the library, I decided. Not really thinking about what I would do when I got there, I slid off my bed and shrugged on a sweater. Pulling off my sweatpants and putting on a pair of jeans, I grabbed a hair elastic. I walked into the bathroom where I had left my shoes the day before. Pulling on my white Converse, I put my hair up into a messy pony tail and was out the door. Out of habit, I started to sling my back pack over my shoulder. Stopping, I reminded myself that I was only going to the library. Wait, why was I even going there? Stopping in the middle of the living room, I debated just staying home.
I slumped onto the couch and thought about any better alternatives. It was a cloudy day outside, kind of yucky, actually. To be honest, I didn’t really feel like doing anything. Well, I certainly wasn’t going to the library, there wasn’t going to be anything better to do there. Maybe I should just take a walk. Yeah, a walk, that’s good. Pulling out my phone, I quickly texted my mom and told her that I was going out and would be back sometime. I hopped up off the couch and walked over to the door, actually getting out of it this time before I could convince myself otherwise.
About an hour later, I found myself standing in front of my high school. It usually didn’t take an hour to get here, but I had been walking very slowly. I wasn’t really sure why I had walked here. Shrugging, I walked across the parking lot towards the football fields. When I reached the gate that separated the football field from the rest of the campus, I simply pushed it open and started walking in the direction of the bleachers. Walking up the steps, I stopped when I reached the very middle. I sat myself down and put my feet up. And then I just sat and thought.
In the middle of replaying the events of last night for about the hundredth time, I realized that Jonah still didn’t know my name. I still hadn’t told him, and he hadn’t asked again. Huh. Should I bring it up now? Like, then next time I see him should I just tell him? Or should I just leave it as long as he doesn’t ask about it? Does it even matter? Why was I still thinking about Jonah in the first place? And why was I sitting in the school bleachers of the football field? Why did I even come here? What was wrong with me? Why was I asking myself so many questions?
Shaking my head, I got up and started walking down the steps.
When I reached the street again, I stopped. Where was I going to go now? Glancing up the road, I noticed a familiar figure lazily walking in the opposite direction.
Not thinking about it, I started walking after him. I had planned on maybe calling out his name, but I then realized that he had his ear buds in, so he probably wouldn’t even hear me. When I got close enough to touch him, I was about to reach out and tap him on the shoulder, when I stopped. What was I going to say? I let my hand fall to my side. He must’ve heard me or sensed me, because he turned around. I could feel the heat rising in my cheeks. I probably looked pretty weird right now. He had just been minding his own business walking, and then I had chased him down like some crazed stalker. He gradually slowed his walking until he stopped altogether. Turning around completely, he just looked at me. Then, he slowly took out his headphones, but still remained silent.
“Uh, hi,” I said awkwardly.
He simply nodded at me and didn’t say anything. He was again wearing only dark colors, nothing colorful or bright. He cocked his head as if he was waiting for me to say something. What was I supposed to say? I usually wasn’t like this. I never, repeat, never went out of my way to talk to people, so why was I doing that with Jonah? He was nothing to me.
“What are you doing?” he finally asked.
“You walk a lot,” he pointed out.
“Well, you’re walking too, you know,” I said, getting a little defensive. But what was there to get defensive about? I did walk a lot.
“Yeah, I know. I was just saying.”
I glanced down and studied my shoes. This was way too awkward. Last night had been so different, so why was it like chewing on nails to get him to act interested in the conversation we were having? “My name’s Destiny,” I blurted out, looking up at him.
He glanced at me. “Destiny?”
“Yeah, Destiny Channing.”
“Channing...I’ve heard that name somewhere. It sounds familiar.”
I already knew where he had heard it. It wasn’t hard to guess. In the papers, probably. Even I had seen my last name there. It was when my dad died, they put it in the papers, even posted an article online. His death was also mentioned on several news channels. He was an important man, an important business man, that is. “Yeah, not surprised,” I said dryly.
He frowned slightly. “What do you mean?”
“It’s why I moved here. Because it got really bad.”
“You moved here?”
“I mean, like, I’ve always lived here, I just switched schools last year. That’s why none of the kids believed me when I told them about my dad.”
“Martin Channing, ring a bell?”
“Oh, yeah, now I remember.”
I nodded. I didn’t really feel like talking about it. He seemed to sense that, because he didn’t press the subject. “Well, Destiny suits you,” he said.
“Well, you’re, uh, different,” he said. When I glanced at him in surprised, he flushed a little and explained. “I mean, you’re not the same as all the other girls. You’re different. I don’t know how to explain it.”
I was different. Huh. I wasn’t sure whether to take that as a good thing or a bad thing. Shrugging, I said, “Well, you’re different too.”
“I’m not different; I’m just me.”
“But you are different. You don’t have any friends, for one, and you hardly ever talk. Most guys, you can’t get them to shut up.”
“You don’t talk that much either. And when you do, it’s like, not...normal.”
Ouch. Okay, different was okay, but this? I didn’t think I was that weird. “Not normal? What do you mean?” I asked, trying to keep my voice even.
“It’s just the things you say, they’re...I’m not sure how to put it. It’s just unexpected, what you say.”
“Look, I don’t know how to explain it.”
“Okay,” I said, letting the subject drop.