2 Back to School... One Last Time

'Life is full of patterns and routines. No matter how much we try to deny, avoid, or reject it, the simple truth is that we, as a connective society, abide by its laws despite our nature and resolve. No one can avoid the eventuality of death or the undeniable fact that all of our lives were conceived in the same nature. These two fixed points – life and death – are a staple for the philosophy of 'tracing' – an ancient and secret method of travelling through the timeline of others. When these two points are, with a hundred percent probability, definite – resolute – what remains between the two are a struggle to leave a mark of our own in the world, so that when our last point in the timeline comes to be, our story does not end.'

Jerry Daniels - #TIMELINECODE: 201302040655LAXJD113421

It had been two very long years. I was reminded of that every morning when I opened my eyes and every time I paced the expanse of my reasonably sized one-bedroom apartment in the heart of downtown Los Angeles.

As I got out of bed and watched the small, collective movement of people as they prepared for their busy Monday morning, I was reminded with much sadness, that two people were lost to the world. Two of the most important people in my world. My parents.

I dragged my feet out of my bedroom, through the open living area and straight to the kitchen, where a greasy cardboard box of pizza lay on the marble countertop. Nothing like a little cold pizza. Pulling up a stool to the counter, I glanced at the LA Daily, the newspaper of LA. At least, it used to be.

My morning routine used to consist of a bowl of cereal and freshly squeezed orange juice. Pretty standard stuff. My mother would struggle to wake me up – I remembered how she would return to my room twice each morning – the first time to wake me… the other to drag me out of bed. I smiled at the memory of how full of life this apartment used to be. The next part of my morning was me sitting down at this exact counter, a spoonful of cereal in my mouth, and my eyes fixed on the headline article of the LA Daily, one that used to have my father's name at the byline.

I pushed aside the pizza and picked up the newspaper tossing it across the room violently. It wasn't fair, none of this was.

I stormed into the bathroom and ran the tap. Bending over, I drowned my face in water, desperate for any sort of feeling that could take me away from my anger – from my sorrow.

Gasping for air, I rose and caught my breath. I stared at my reflection in the mirror. Water ran down my smooth, olive skin as it dripped off my sharp jawline. My soft, brown eyes looked haunted--empty and sad. The person I saw in the mirror, the man I was today, stood broken – a mere shadow of who I once was a year ago, before the institution…before my parents left forever.

The chime of the doorbell shook me from my thoughts. I stood still, gaze hooked on my reflection. A flurry of whispers clouded the air around me, they were indistinguishable and would usually be a sign of worry for me, a callback to the illness that had taken a year of my life. However, at this moment, they were a welcome development. They soothed me, made me feel warm with embrace, as if I was never truly alone, no matter how isolated my home was.

The doorbell chimed again, forcing me out of my daze and shooing away the whispers that had accompanied me mere minutes earlier.

I gave my face a quick wipe and hurried towards the door.

"Coming!" I called as the third chime beat me to the door. I opened the door without bothering to check the peephole, I didn't need to – this was the third part of my routine – welcoming my friend and neighbor Steve.

He stood in the doorway, disheveled, brown hair, dressed in a Superman muscle tee and black Levi's. Steve transformed over the past year; he had lost the extra baby fat he held onto throughout middle school, he was now muscular and toned and had made it to the Varsity football team senior year. He had changed the way he walked, spoke and even his interests. Despite all that, he had remained my friend and that was something I was profoundly grateful for and always would be.

Steve briefly looked up from his phone as he walked in. "You ready bro?" Bro? Yeah that was going to take a little getting used to. I liked it better when he stuck to words like 'awesome' and 'fellow geek'. Things had changed so much over the past year that I was away – almost too much.

I heard a beep from an Artoo unit. Steve had his head buried in his smartphone reading a message. I smiled, guess some things stayed the same.

I closed the door and turned each of the four locks, making sure to check the peephole to make sure no one lingered in the hallway. My therapist called it paranoia combined with compulsive behavior. I called it safe. After only a month at school since my release from my one year stay at the Sunnyside Rehabilitation Center, people looked at me as if I was some sort of freak – an unhinged personality that could snap at any time. My locker had four padlocks; it used to have a long silver chain with an additional lock, but the principal had pulled me aside and strongly convinced me to take it off, said that it was quote: "too unsettling for the other students". Whatever, I wasn't going to give up my safety just to appease the phony, high school social scene that itself was nothing short of insane.

"Bro, by the way, Sandy's expecting me to come early," Steve announced as he set his phone on the counter. "Her friends are going around doing the traditional year book signings. You should come, Sandy said that it might be good for you to socialize with the rest of our grade for once."

"You mean watch as everyone either treats me as a fragile nutcase or the girls look at me like I'm some sort of freak?"

"Rachel will be there…"

I paused, inciting a smirk from Steve.

"Maybe it's time for you to ask her out," Steve winked.

"Yeah, I can just imagine how that conversation would go, 'hey Rachel, I know last year I asked your dad to check me into the madhouse, but this year, I wanted to know if you'd like to go out sometime?'"

Steve sighed, "You're being dramatic. It's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal?" I feigned a laugh. "I beat up a teacher. Got caught hiding in the janitor's closet, all the while refusing to make eye contact with anyone but my own reflection."

"So what if you had a crap couple of months… and sure some of your behavior…" Steve thought for second before continuing, "Well, most of the behavior might've been a little… disturbing. But Jerry, it's been a year and a lot of things have changed." Steve showed off his athletic frame with his hands. "I'm living proof. Things change… people change."

"It's never that simple, Steve," I sighed. "But thanks."

Steve nodded. Then glanced at his watch and stood abruptly. "Bro, you need to speed things up."

I walked over to the counter, grabbed my car keys and tossed them to him.

"I'll meet you downstairs in ten…"

He caught the keys and made for the door. "Five… and make sure you bring your 'A' game, bro. Rachel's gonna be waiting."

The school parking lot was packed to the brim. There were cars on the lawn, others blocking people in and some even sitting within a hairsbreadth of each other. Luckily Steve managed to spot a space occupied by a couple of bicycles. Much to my dismay, Steve ran them over.

"Dude… watch the car!" I cried.

"Don't worry about," Steve leaned forward; the grinding of metal on concrete screeched as we pulled forward. "I'll pay for any damage. Stupid juniors should know their place."

"I think you're forgetting that we were juniors once," I reminded him "and that we used to be on the receiving end of the senior's sense of entitlement."

"Which means we should enjoy this even more," he said as he killed the engine. He handed me the keys and then turned the rearview mirror towards him, so that he could do a last-minute check of himself.

"Hard to believe this is it," I said.

Steve didn't say anything, instead he pulled out a comb from his pocket and tidied up his gelled hair.

"Come on, you're not feeling even a little nostalgic?"

"About what? I did what I came to do," he said as he put his phone away. Then, like some sort of lecturer or proud hand model, he started using his fingers to illustrate his success. "One, I got a hot girlfriend." I knew where this was going, but if he wanted to congratulate himself, who was I to stop him? "Two, I made varsity…" he continued, denoting that achievement with his index finger, "and three, I got a college scholarship. I made it, bro."

"Commendable," I said dryly as I got out of the car. I walked around to the trunk of my red and blue Camaro and grabbed my messenger bag, swinging it over my shoulder. Then, I waited a minute or so for Steve to get out of the car.

We followed the pool of ecstatic students as they made their way to the school. I glanced up at the etching on the metal plate that hung above the entrance. Verand High.

Then, completely out of place, hanging right below was a banner, or rather a plain white bedsheet, with the painted words, "School's Out Seniors!"

I took another look at the crowd of students around me. The happy faces, the glassy eyes and look of hope on each and every one of their faces. I felt a sharp jab in my chest and sighed.

This was it. This was really the end of a world I had been a part of for most of my life.

I remembered the feeling I had the first time I had stood here and looked up at the impressively expansive high school building. My mother had dropped me off an hour before school, thought that it'd give me a jump on making new friends and exploring the campus. I wasn't happy with her decision, so I'd stormed off without saying goodbye. I felt bad the entire day and apologized as soon as she picked me up, but it's something that I've always regretted. Even more so now. I would give anything to redo that moment – to set things right.

"Jerry?"

I froze. My mind was racing and my heart was pounding. I slowly turned around… not believing that this was real, that this could happen.

"You're not mad at me, are you?" a beautiful middle-aged woman with brown hair tied in a loose bun gave me a warm smile.

My eyes teared up, a few escaping down my cheeks. I fell to my knees and cried. "Mom?"