Chapter One, Part Three
Skander managed to avoid Imogene the rest of the day, but it wasn’t easy. Everywhere he looked she seemed to hover. He would hear her voice in the hall and quickly duck around the corner. Somehow she managed to be in every one of his classes, and even when she was looking away, it was as if he could feel her eyes, searing, knowing, watching. He thought his display during first period would have done the trick, but she was persistent...or stupid.
At lunch, he settled into his favorite spot. A picnic table under a tall spruce tree. It dropped little seedling pods that exploded on the ground and the table. One fell on his shoulder as he rummaged through his bag to find the apple he had stashed that morning. He could easily take something from the cafeteria, but he didn't want to risk that Imogene might see him. He couldn't explain why she made him nervous, after all, she should be the one afraid of him, everyone else was.
A blue bird flew down from a branch and landed in front of him on the table. He watched it jerk its head from side to side and bounce up and down on nimble claws. He thought of his wooden bird and tried to record the blue bird’s movements in his mind so that he could recall it later. The bird flew off again, and as he watched it go, he saw Imogene making a beeline to the table, her keychains bouncing with each sure-footed stride.Time to go. He grabbed his backpack and swung himself over the fence. No more shadow games today, he thought. It was only about an hour before he usually gave up and went home early anyway.
Back on main street, the morning fog had rolled down from the mountains as if the clouds had just given up and decided to take a nap right there in town. He breathed in humid air and started his ascent. Back at the spruce tree, perched precariously on a high limb, Imogene watched. Her eyes, sharp and focused, as Skander made his way through the faux cobblestone streets to where the pavement became gravel, then, gravel became dirt. A cloud of dust and fog trailed behind as he climbed. Higher, up the road that only lead to one place. The yellow Victorian at the top of the hill seemed to tremble as he opened the door and stepped inside.
Author's notes: This is the last official Friday of Camp NaNoWriMo, but I will try to keep the Fiction Friday thing going as much as I can. It's been good for me to have this weekly deadline, and even though I didn't get as far as I wanted to, it's still more than I had before I started! Thanks to anyone who has been reading, thanks for hanging in there with me through this little experiment. I'll get back to doing more regular (non-fiction!) posts next week. Have a great weekend.
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