Read Online The Long Wait for Tomorrow by Joaquin Dorfman - Free Book Online Page A

could to Kelly’s first-period class, bobbing and weaving between the rest of the students.
    Patrick didn’t know why he had expected Kelly to be waiting for him at the entrance. The rest of the students had already filed out, new ones rushing in like frigid air. He asked around, but nobody seemed to know where Kelly was. Patrick panicked, ran out to the parking lot to see if Kelly had simply jumped back into his car, itching for another chance at breaking the sound barrier.
    The convertible was still there, and Patrick was going to be late for his next class.
    Second period proved worse than the first, was asked to stay behind after a pen cap had popped out from between his nervous teeth and landed squarely in the teacher’s herbal tea.
    As a result, Patrick had already resigned himself to missing Kelly at the next juncture.
    It was then, between classes, that people began approaching him. Each encounter with a different bent to it, a different inquiry into Kelly’s behavior.
    “What’s up with Kelly? I ran into him between classes, and he was all happy to see me. Like he hadn’t seen me in ages.
    Like he even knew who I was to begin with; I don’t think we’ve ever even
talked.”
    “Hey, Pat, what’s up with Kelly? I was just talking to him about Ohio State, and he
completely
blew it off. It’s only been a couple of days, and it’s like he didn’t even care. It’s like he didn’t even know who I was, he looked right past me.
Weird.”
    “I just saw Kelly in a suit and tie doing some kind of … I don’t know, dance, with the ballet kids. Right in the hallway, he was grinning like I don’t even
know.
What’s
up
with him, anyway?”
    Patrick had no answers, kept walking and talking as best he could. The grapevine continued to burn between third and fourth period. Some tendered stories about Kelly chatting it up with cliques outside his circle; talking music with the third-chair band kids, stopping to pick up some science geek’s scattered notebooks. Others told of Kelly leading a full-class discussion on
cognito ergo sum
in their Philosophy 101 class, while further baffling accounts had Kelly demonstrating a flair for Spanish while seated in French 309.
    That was the problem, ultimately.
    While everyone could claim to know who Kelly McDermott was, not even a handful could claim to actually know anything
about
Kelly McDermott, who he
actually
was. And as a result, just about any interaction they had with him turned out to have the same diagnosis.
    Kelly’s been acting weird.
    And the problem wasn’t that Patrick disagreed with them.
    He’d seen Kelly dance naked in the street, practically arrested, down two cups of coffee, turn stunt driver in his JaguarXK. There was no possible way to constructively argue with anyone’s assessment of Kelly McDermott.
    The problem, quite simply, was Patrick didn’t have even the most remote explanation for it.
    And so he bounced between comments like a clueless pinball. Fielding questions, comments, concerns, the go-to guy for all things Kelly. And for all his efforts, Patrick couldn’t seem to find him anywhere.
    Though one thing was for certain.
    Kelly wasn’t looking for Patrick.
    By all accounts, Kelly was looking for Jenna.
    Jenna sat on the bleachers with her knees together, toes pointed inward. She was fresh out of cheerleading practice. Only a small percentage of her was left to the imagination; her green and white skirt spanned from waist to mid-upper thigh, shorn halter top exposing her shoulders and flat stomach. Fine dark hair done up in small protruding pigtails.
    Patrick remained standing, saxophone case by his feet, looking out over the carefully maintained grass. He found himself wishing he had a couple of stones to chuck. Wished this conversation were taking place elsewhere. The day had dragged on long enough for several school days, long enough for the rest of the school year.
    Graduation, right around the corner.
    Empty bleachers replaced with