in which you, an aspiring filmmaker,
find the perfect actor for your breakout short film.
casting is difficult for the main love interest,
but once a certain blue-eyed boy comes into your life, you know he's the one...
maybe in more ways than yo...
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CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
visions
"race you to the end?" asked walker. the hallway seemed incessant like it would keep expanding with every step i took. maybe pulling a maeve and adding some unnecessary games to the mix would help make the ordeal more feasible.
"only if you give me a chance," i said. "we don't want another sword fight situation, mr jackson."
"i'm not gonna let you win. that's just as unfair as cheating. but i will give you some tips," he said, stretching. "pretend... i don't know, let's say that kid from just now, because you said he's scary, you pretend he's chasing you. works like a charm."
"alright." i cracked my knuckles. then, we both got into ready position. i dug my worn out, thrifted converse shoes into the tile, set to traumatize them further. "on your mark, get set... go!"
the walls in my peripheral vision began to blur into streams of beige as i sprinted as fast as i could. whether he liked it or not, the theater kid was now on my tail, clearing his territory of anyone who found out about his secret society. in my head it was actually quite horrifying -- the lights were flickering and the walls were closing in from my left and right, eerie strings swelling. the kid was making demonic shrieks and maybe doing some theatrical dances as he desperately tried to grip my hair and suck me into the depths of hell where mr fennel teaches me anti-theater propaganda for eternity. maybe i've watched too many psychological thrillers.
walker's little trick seemed to work perfectly. the door was close enough that i could see my reflection in the tempered glass. that reminded me that i was still in my lame school before i could let myself get too carried away, before i could humiliate myself by getting too immersed and screaming out loud.
and since i was snapped out of it, i also realized that walker was right next to me. i mean, he was right next to me. we were going at precisely the same velocity and in parallelism. neither one of us were on the way to win. we were about to stalemate.
i didn't want to crash or fall to the floor again. so i just persevered and hoped we would stay steadily in line for a few more feet. the grasp my fingers had on the flyers tightened, not wanting to lose them when i had to break my strides so abruptly. three steps... two... one. we reached the door at the exact same time.
we didn't discuss it. didn't even catch our breath. we were so going to get busted by fennel at that point that we just walked through the door and continued our journey through the halls of the school. eventually, once i recognized where we were, i said, "good race back there."
"if your definition of good is tying, then i disagree," he remarked.
"what, are you embarrassed that you didn't win against a girl?" i teased.
