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Show 129 Eccles and Sanelli kept saying things like "I can't wait to get oughta here!" or "Twelve years in prison, parole at last!" Dyna wasn't convinced by all the cheering going on. Not altogether. There were those wistful looks in the halls that passed between certain seniors and the noticeable cringing when someone joked about going out into the cold, cru-e_l world. There was also that something which was happening between Parker and her that kept Dyna from celebrating early. In tender moments, she spelled it c-1-o-s-e, this relationship of theirs that defied description, though she'd convinced herself that everything would end between them when school was over. Dyna dropped the sponge in the bucket and pulled the polishing rag out of her back pocket. In truth, Parker probably didn't think about her at all, taking their friendship in long-legged stride the way he did everything else. How would he think of her, anyway? Dyna the Quirk? Girl-most-likely-to-clog-up-the-mainstream? Did Parker even know they were having a relationship? No, she definitely was not going to let Parker intrude on those final pages of her journal. They were for her own graduation, for all the delicious details of the Great Occasion. Life-after-school was still too nebulous to contemplate. The Future? An abstract noun. One thing Dyna knew for sure, it wouldn't include Parker. Neither, therefore, would this important part of her journal. Cripes, you have to grow up some time! she scolded, polishing the top half of window glass until it shone. The face she saw when the moisture evaporated was too somber. Dyna forced herself to smile. The face smiled back, tentatively. Then Dyna laughed, frankly admiring her own reflection. Not too shabby! She'd seen worse. The morning sun, glinting off the window, spoiled her moment of rapport and backed her down the ladder a few steps. "Dirty window comes clean!" she announced to the world at large, throwing her arms wide. She recognized the apt metaphor. Dyna tackled the bottom pane with gusto. Before she knew it, she was singing. "Moooooooon Riverrrrrr," she wailed, letting the tremolo rise in her voice, "wider than a mile . . ." Right in the middle of the next phrase, Dyna was struck in the back with a dirt clod. |
