Definitions of Indefinable Things by Whitney Taylor

Author:Whitney Taylor
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt

I slouched on the living room floor in front of my dad’s recliner, scrawling doodles (see: nth-degree boredom) in my journal. My essays for the week had all been written, thanks to Polka’s tutoring in the cafeteria after school. It was nice having Polka around to help, given he was a brain on legs that was willing to spend most of his time with me in spite of my complete indifference toward his life outside of Hawkesbury. Sometimes I felt like a jerk for never investing in his life. But he knew me well enough to know I didn’t invest in anyone, myself included, and he would be wise not to take it personally.

“You write nice today, Reggie,” he’d said, leaning closer to me, but not so close I needed to give him the elbow.

I didn’t look up. “Well, superhero stories practically write themselves.”

“The idea give lot of potential, but only good writer write a good story.”

He wasn’t speaking in his usual monotone. I brought my gaze up from the page to find his small black eyes watching me back, emotionlessly, his lips quirked upward on one side. Was Polka smiling? I didn’t think his mouth could go up instead of down.

I felt my own lip slide up in response, using the remaining bit of my concentration to deflate it. “That might be the first compliment you’ve ever given me, Polka.”

He’d smiled full throttle, his teeth bared. It was a cute look for a perpetually frowning face. “I should give compliment more often. You earn it.”

“Dude, are you flirting with me?” I’d teased, punching his shoulder.

His mouth fell flat, his eyes turned down to the table. He adjusted the purple bow tie beneath his chin, back to the Polka I tolerated/mildly liked. “What is it with Americans crushing on teachers? It a weird society.”

His cheeks reddened a shade when he said it, proving that he had, in fact, been flirting. Which was totally weird, and not something he, or I, was likely to ever talk about later. It did feel kind of nice, though. Having someone at school who liked me as distantly as I liked him, someone who wouldn’t try to push me into matching friendship bracelets, or into a prom-king-and-queen relationship. We could write cool essays and eat lunch and not have to exist to each other beyond the perimeter of a building.

“What are you working on there?” Dad asked over my shoulder, snapping me out of my daze. My hand immediately flew to the page, protecting the word LONELINESS scribbled out in blue pen.

I closed the journal and set it beside me, resting the back of my head against the armrest of his chair. “Nothing. Just stuff for Dr. Rachelle.”

He sucked in a breath as if he was prepping to ask me more, then closed his mouth with a swallow. We both sat quietly for a minute, listening to my mother humming praise songs from the kitchen. It began to storm outside, a crash of thunder shaking the walls.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.