– II –


I fell asleep an hour or so later. I was really hoping for dreamless sleep but that would be too much to ask I guess. I dreamt about Dylan, of course. About the time when he almost knocked my teeth out. It was two or three weeks after the school started. We were still desk partners. We remained desk partners until the freaking graduation. We wouldn’t talk much but at least we would talk. I was the only person in the entire school Dylan would talk to in somewhat normal way. When it came to anyone else, he was an unbelievable dick. For some reason his attitude didn’t get him into as much trouble as someone would expect. He would get an occasional detention but that was it.

I dreamt about the day when he left his book in the classroom. As soon as the bell rang that day, he took off in his usual manner without saying anything. I was used to that by then so it didn’t bother me. Then, after I got all my crap together, I realized that the only book left on the desk wasn’t mine. It was Dylan’s. I grabbed it and went outside. I had no intentions of chasing him, I was planning on giving it to him tomorrow. When I got outside, however, I saw him almost immediately. He was walking across the parking lot, his hair shining in the sun.

I called his name and he didn’t slow down. I yelled his name again. No reaction. Then he stopped and started fumbling through his pockets. As I learned later, he was looking for his lighter. So I went after him. I was positive that he knew I was behind him. I mean, I yelled his name several more times. Well, apparently he had no idea that I was there. I got close enough to him, said “Hey!” and grabbed his shoulder. His reaction was beyond wild. He spun around and before I could say “Huh?” he punched me in the face so hard that I swear, I saw the stars.

Then his eyes immediately became huge and panicked. He muttered “Oh, shit!”, dropped his backpack on the ground, and grabbed my wrist, his hands shaking.

“I’m sorry”, he said quickly. “Shit, I’m sorry!”

I had a very strong desire to beat him into bloody pulp right then. I mumbled something that resembled “Go to hell” and pulled his hand off my wrist. Then I looked at him and I didn’t feel like beating the shit out of him anymore. He looked like he was about to start crying or something.

“Jesus”, I grumbled and carefully ran my tongue over my teeth. All there, good. “What the hell…?”

“I’m sorry”, he said again.