My heart pounded as I stared at my phone from above the city. I sat at the top of a skyscraper and my only worry was how Peter was going to respond. I stared down at it, hoping that with sheer will I could make him respond. It had already been five minutes. My mind began to play every possible terrible reason for his delay. I grew more and more anxious with each passing second. “Maybe he didn’t get the text,” I thought. “Maybe I should text him again,” I told myself and picked up the phone, plotting what I was going to say before coming to my senses and laying the phone down beside me once more. I continued to stare at it. Finally, it made the wonderful sound it made when I got a new message. I snatched it up and looked at it, realizing with great sadness that it was only from Chloe.
“Text him yet?” she asked. I sighed and explained my dilemma, subtracting the fact that I dealt with this drama from the top of a skyscraper. She told me that I needed to find something to distract me. I laughed at my current situation and the irony which came with it. I then put my phone into my back pocket and flew around the city to blow off steam. I knew it wasn’t the most responsible thing to do but I didn’t care. I needed to distract myself. I flew down to the ocean and put my hand in the water before lifting off. I repeated my action, only this time, I allowed frost to erupt from my hand and leave bits of the ocean frozen where my hand touched it. This grew tiring after a while and I flipped myself around, allowing my midnight blue hair to dip into the ocean. I flew a little higher and pretended to walk up and down nonexistent stairs. I could feel people were watching but I didn’t care. I pulled out my phone and realized nothing had happened. I groaned and flew back to the skyscraper, where I tried to will him to respond once more. After a good ten minutes of staring at the black screen, my phone made the noise again. I almost didn’t want to check whether it was from him or not, as I felt I couldn’t face another crushing disappointment. I looked nonetheless.
It was from Peter! He wasn’t dead! “Sorry for the delay,” I read. “My little brother killed my battery playing a game and I only just found the charger,” said the first text. Then came in a second. “I can help you with your research any day besides Thursday and Saturday,” he said.
I ignored the thumping of my heart and responded calmly. “I’m free most days right after school until seven, any time after that doesn’t work,” I said truthfully, leaving out the reasoning and hoping he didn’t notice.
There was an abnormally long pause before he finally asked, “how’s Wednesday at the new Cafe’ next to the school at 4:30?”
“That works great,” I responded, before immediately telling my mother, sister, and Chloe what happened. I knew I would come to regret this daft action but I didn’t care. For just one wonderful moment, nothing else mattered.