Across the Hall by NM Facile

Author:NM Facile [Facile, NM]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Central Avenue Publishing
Published: 2016-05-26T07:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15 - Sylvia

The four of us -- Kai, Sloane, Quinn, and I -- were sitting outside a small ice cream shop close to campus. The others were chatting away about something. I wasn’t sure what it was. I was too entranced with the amazing things the bright sunlight was doing to Quinn’s hair. In the shadow it was its normal deep brown and even black. Then the sun would peek out from behind a cloud and it would shine a deep shade of bronze with hints of copper. It reminded me of watching autumn leaves change through time-lapse photography.

Kai gave me a little nudge. I knew I was busted when she smirked at me and pointed at my caramel sundae. “Are you going to eat that, or drink it?”

I wrinkled my nose at her and took a bite of my sundae. It was starting to melt, but it was right where I liked it. Frozen enough that it didn’t drip off the spoon, yet soft and creamy and melting as soon as it hit the tongue. I took a second bite and leaned back against my chair. They had all resumed whatever it was they were discussing before. I glanced from Kai to Sloane to see if I could catch up with them. On my second pass through, I realized I didn’t understand anything they said. I looked towards Quinn to see if he would be any help.

He must have just been listening to Kai and Sloane and not joining in with them. He was leaning back in his chair, his long legs kicked out in front of him. His feet were all gimpy as one pushed against the pavement, causing his chair to rock back. The other was almost laying sideways, crossed over the first. I tilted my head, trying to figure out how he could get his foot in that position. I started at the foot and moved up to see if his ankle had the answer. Of course I couldn’t just stop at the ankle; I proceeded on up his legs. What was supposed to be a deep blue was now faded and washed out to slate in some spots. There were hints of tears along the sides and visible holes along the pocket. The left knee had a rip from one seam to the other, leaving a hint of skin showing through the frayed bands still intact.

I studied the jeans, trying to figure out how they got so dirty. I counted eight separate spots, the largest of which was on his thigh, which may have been made by wiping his hands off against his pants. There were four evenly spaced ones under a horseshoe on his right leg. Those were definitely made from resting his left shoe across his knee. I followed one up near the inseam that I was pretty certain was a spill of some sort. The spill stain ended by where what was probably the original indigo of the jeans began. I was intrigued by the yellow of the stitching along the fly against the dark blue.

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