Earth 101: Time to Run, page 1
Earth 101
Time to Run
Emae Church
Earth 101 – Time to Run
ISBN 978-1-9163003-1-6 (eBook)
ISBN 978-1-9163003-0-9 (Paperback)
ISBN 978-1-9163003-2-3 (Paperback IngramSpark)
ISBN 978-1-9163003-7-8 (Hardback)
ISBN 978-1-9163003-3-0 (Audiobook)
Published by Korudaz Ink, an imprint presenting this work by Emae Church
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Emae Church asserts the moral rights to be identified as the author of this work.
Copyright © 2021 Emae Church
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without the prior consent of the author.
For more information, address: enquiries@korudaz.co.uk
First printed edition 20th July 2021
Book cover design by Andrei Bat
https://emae.church
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the
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Contents
Earth 101
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Chapter 50
Chapter 51
Chapter 52
Chapter 53
Chapter 54
Chapter 55
Chapter 56
Chapter 57
Chapter 58
Chapter 59
Chapter 60
Chapter 61
Afterword
Acknowledgments
About the Author
Earth 101
Time to Run
By
Emae Church
Chapter One
My lungs are on fire. My heart hammers. Muscles burn with fatigue, and my ankles threaten to twist and throw me sideways onto the muddy grass.
But I must keep going. Up and up, dodging the mounds and dips which almost got me last time.
My running suit feels cold against my chafed, swollen legs. The blood pumping through me reverberates in my ears, almost drowning out the residual pitying whispers which accompany the sidelong glances. They greet me everywhere I go now.
Except here.
My solitary wilderness.
One stupid mistake, and I’m Jayne, reduced to cold and judgemental gossip at the school lockers. Not front-page news but not forgotten either. Never. Forgotten.
I stamp harder into the soft ground with each thought and push onward. The sky is a menacing grey on the hill’s horizon.
I look up and take a fresh icy gust to the face.
I’m not what they think I am. No way will I let them relegate me to town freak before I’m even eighteen. I’m so much more than that, and everyone will see. I’m sure of it.
I gasp against a razor-sharp breath. My chest finally refuses to open to full capacity. My lungs don’t feed my muscles the oxygen they need for my next step.
Thunk.
The refreshing grass embraces my tired body with a sweet scent of approaching summer, and I roll onto my back, heaving for air. The blurry stopwatch ticked over my previous record nine seconds ago, and I’m not even at the top yet.
A scream wants to rip out of my chest, but I hold it in, too tired to think, let alone shout at the wind. I’m alone on this barren hill. Windswept and almost dark, no one comes here but me and the occasional blackbird. But I resent showing my weakness even to the birds.
I lay for a few seconds and then stand on wobbly legs. A blanket of lights stretches out flickering ahead of me, all the way to the harbour on the other side of town. My pulse slows a few paces, and I inhale deep again, in through the nose, out through the mouth. First thing I learned in cross-country running. That and don’t lose.
I swipe a wet smudge of dirt off my knees and take tentative steps down the hill. So, I didn’t beat the record I set for myself eight months ago. I’ll still trash anyone who tries to race me. Let’s see the condescension on their faces then.
I’m on the steepest part of the slope. It can be perilous even in daylight to descend it without knowing exactly where to place each step. A tiny tug on the pit of my stomach dares me to jump. I almost smile at the thought, but instead, I scramble down the steep, slippery bank.
The wind flattens my bangs across my forehead and whips the ends into my eyes. I rub the water out of them. Freeze.
My first instinct is to duck down as the tail end of a voice carries across on the wind. Somewhere near the bottom, out of sight. I don’t know what it’s saying, but it’s female, and it’s getting closer.
Tucking my long hair back behind my ears, I strain to listen above the wail of the wind. Can I catch a word or two of the approaching conversation? Hunkering down in a small dip, my black running suit camouflages against the darkening foliage. My mind lurches with paranoid thoughts.
The walls of my anxiety close in until I’m crouching so low, I’m almost embedded in the grass. My hair flicks up in the wind, and I grab it back down, though the coloured streaks will probably signal my location anyway.
“You can’t force me to do anything!” The last word tapers off, shaky and weak.
I recognise the voice. It’s Laura from school. I crane my neck and squint over the top of the nearby scattered boulders. But where is she? And who is she talking to?
Are they here because of me? Laura knows my running route – she’s been vocal of my attempts to scramble up this hill – but this can’t be a follow-on to what happened in school today? What will they think if they see me hiding?
The urge to stand up tugs at me. To carry on down the slope and mind my own business. But what if Laura sees me? How could I pop out of nowhere and continue along my way, pretending I don’t notice her? I don’t need even more hushed conversations and lowered eyes in the corridors of Hill Derry tomorrow.
I’m also not in the mood for another run-in with her.
I wipe away a lone, wind-induced tear on my cheek. The howl of the wind is picking up and carrying away Laura’s words.
All I hear is the despair in her voice. “Why are you doing this?”
The fear. “Please, wait. Let’s go back–”
Who is she with? I’ve seen her hanging with a lanky fella with white hair after school, but… should I go after her?
Do I want to find myself in another argument and fight?
The feet and voices grow faint and are replaced by the whistle of the wind. Billowing clouds chase across the dark sky. Peering down from my hiding place, an urgency compels me to follow Laura, as a gust of wind echoes with her voice.
Wait a minute, was that a shout? A scream? I’m on my toes as I move forward quickly but warily.
I search the street around me, but I’m alone. There’s nobody to ask for assistance. Even if there were, would I bother asking? Probably not.
There, another shout. I should leave them to it, but a worrying curiosity sweeps me along, following Laura’s voice. I can’t make out what she is saying, but it’s an angry, albeit shrill tone. I know Laura, and that is a scared voice. She’s hiding fear behind a veil of angry words.
I stop at the corner to an alleyway. They’ll see me should I turn the corner, and all the anger will become aimed at me. A bus charges past and almost erases the shouting, but between the sounds of heavy wheels and metal, I catch a snippet of Laura’s words.
“Why don’t you just jump in your stupid sh… and …-off to another galaxy!”
Whoever she is with has not uttered a raised word. All I hear is a male mumble of sorts. He’s obviously trying to calm her. But then an unwitting cough escapes me. I grasp my mouth, but then it happens.
My knees buckle, and my head spins as my vision darkens. What’s going on? It’s as though my head has been dipped in water but then comes a flash. I can’t see where, but I’m sure it came from the alleyway.
Has Laura spotted me and taken a picture of me, cowering here in the darkness, with her cell phone? I’ll be a laughing-stock in school tomorrow. Before the ni
She’ll upload this to her digital landfill of social media with me the victim. Oh, why did I follow her? Have your stupid argument, but leave me out of it.
What’s that? Footsteps.
My head stings and buzzes with the dark, thickness of the air around me. I’m paralysed, but I’m aware of someone crouching over me. My mouth won’t form words. I can’t raise my gaze towards whoever is looking at me. Leaden lifelessness pins my arms to my sides.
Then the darkness is broken by a voice. Hushed and distorted by the giddiness ebbing through my head.
“Stupid human.”
A boy’s voice.
It could be seconds or minutes, but the wave passes, and my head clears as the chilly air slaps me back to attention. My lungs burn as I gasp through chattering teeth. I must have been holding my breath.
Did I pass out?
I scan around me. Alone again. I push myself to shivering legs and peer down the dark, lonely alleyway. Empty. Laura and the boy are gone.
Where did they go?
What has just happened?
My tired legs hobble along the street and past the hill.
Dense trees, arcing from the top to the bottom of the hill, and to the left of me sway. Their leaves play eerie music of their own.
Shadows from the thicket stretch out long across the open grassland, threatening to reach me soon.
Chapter Two
What was that last night? Did I blackout? I lost all control of my body and senses.
And that voice: “Stupid human.”
I massage my temples and forehead, then run my fingers through my hair. I checked the web last night, but there were no pictures of me online, shivering by that alleyway.
More curious, Laura has taken down her social media pages. Why would she do that? She sees herself as the voice of the school, of the town. The gossip-queen of Dereton.
But she’s deleted it all now. Is that what she was arguing about? Who was that boy?
I jump as a bag drops to the floor beside me.
Isla arrives right on the first bell and sits down next to me, breathing heavily.
“Roadworks held the bus up,” she gasps. “They’re building a huge crane on the high street. Think they’ll let me have a go at it?” She smiles, looking mischievous, but this falters when she catches my expression.
I feign normality. “For you, probably yes.”
Despite her weird thing for tractors, diggers, and cranes, Isla is super popular. People warm to her in an instant, while I seem to put people on their back foot. They are wary of me, but I don’t know why. I’m a friendly, approachable person – well, I think so anyway. Yes, there’s always been a thing with Laura and her mates, but that’s it.
Then again, there was that episode in class the other week… I roll my neck, dismissing the thoughts.
The hum of the room reverberates with hushed tones and giggles. The little paranoid voice in my head draws my attention to the small group huddled at the front. Then I notice, Laura’s not here. Nobody’s mentioned yesterday’s argument. In this place?
Laura’s rarely late. She walks to school, so the construction work on the high street won’t hinder her. I guess her argument, at the base of the hill last night, has seen her calling in sick today. Or getting her mom to do it for her. At least I’ll get some peace today from her bitching about anything she can think of.
I wish I could jump back in time and undo yesterday.
The bubbling tension between Laura and me erupted and ripped through the Richter scale. Two years of constant digs, brushes in the hallway, and toxic stares resulted in a nose-to-nose slanging match.
Thankfully, this was in art and design class, so the audience was small, but it all became ugly. We exchanged venomous taunts and shoves but somehow held it together, so it didn’t become a hair-pulling, face-scratching fight. But then I went too far.
Laura called me a dog repeatedly. As she walked away, I noticed she had left her cell phone on the desk. Picking it up, I was about to chuck it in her direction, but then she said it, “A little dog, just like her sister.”
“Why don’t you go and fetch this, Laura?” I shouted and held the cell up. Adrenalin gripped my throat with tingling dizziness.
As she turned, I threw the cell with all my strength. Not in her direction but the classroom window. The sickening splinter of the pane was applauded by dozens of plastic components raining to the floor. Laura’s gasp met my own.
The crack in the glass didn’t spread, and the window held, but a teacher’s voice broke the scene. “What’s going on here?”
The room emptied as though a starter-pistol had fired. Laura shot a final glance at me and hastily retreated. Leaving me there to face the music.
A shiver reminds me of last night; Laura’s words echo around my head.
But that other voice? “Stupid human.”
I must have imagined that when I blacked out. I suppose I was teetering on the edge of a dream; nightmare more like it.
Isla’s voice snaps away my thoughts.
“Here, Miss,” Isla responds to roll call with our house teacher.
“Anyone knows where Alan is?” the teacher asks, searching the faces after calling Alan’s name twice.
With that, he enters the room with apologies for being late.
“Here, Miss,” I respond to my name called, keeping my head down. I don’t want to catch her disappointed gaze. I’m sure she’ll have a quiet word at the end of roll call and advise me to see the Principal before classes. I couldn’t go yesterday as Principal Georgeson was away on some board meeting.
Mom and Dad will be hit with a bill for the window repairs. Probably the cell phone, too. There goes my allowance… forever.
My gaze shifts to Laura’s empty chair, as the teacher skips straight from me to Leslie, missing Laura altogether. Why hasn’t she asked about Laura? The guilt in the pit of my stomach burns from yesterday. Is Laura absent because of me? No, even more reason she would turn up today: to see me hung out to dry. She’d get immense pleasure seeing me in trouble. And I’m in deep.
But what happened last night? Did I imagine that?
Has nobody noticed the omission? I quickly scan the faces in the room, and despite a few curious looks in response, everything is normal.
This reminds me of that one other time… Apprehension crawls up my spine.
I mouth, no Laura, to Isla’s questioning glance, but her brow creases and she raises her right shoulder slightly. Who? She mouths back. I shrug away the question. Who indeed?
Roll call ends, and I wait to be called up front, but nothing is said. I stand so our teacher can clearly see me. I even exchange a warm smile with her, but she says nothing. Maybe they expect me to be the adult here and instigate matters on my own. There is still half an hour before the first session.
“Sorry, Miss. I need to pop upstairs, to the school office,” I tell our teacher, waiting for confirmation of an appointment with the Principal but she just nods. They’re taking this well. The last time a window broke, an article appeared in the local press.
