The rattle of the train’s wheels jolts me awake from a light doze. Incomprehension of my surroundings has me staring with bleary eyes through the thick pane of glass, distant mountains and a lush, fertile view of the countryside meets my gaze. It takes me another second to finally realize where I am and where I am heading.


Back to school.

Only it isn’t really that. I have been invited to attend the seventy-fifth anniversary reunion of my former high school. A place where memories, as fresh as wet paint, still run through my mind despite my desperate attempts, in the last five years, to forget them. I have avoided attending all previous class reunions, usually ripping up every cream-colored envelope when they come in the mail.

I can still remember my excitement during my senior year, my eagerness and anticipation as I arrived at the Grand Hall early that cold October morning. Enkidu and Fujisaki, my best friends back then, had come with me, and I was glad since I needed the support for what was to come.

I knew why I had attended, knew why I was slowly making the spiked punch bowl my friend as I watched and waited with my heart in my throat. Every time someone walked through those solid oak doors was a lesson in patience and frustration.

I would watch as old friends laughed and hugged each other in exuberance, as they spoke too loudly, laughed too hysterically, tried to show off their success as only young men could. I waited even when the speeches began, my glance darting towards the door every now and again, hoping he’d show up. And even when the festivities came to an end, I still foolishly held on to the hope that he’d come running in late. Perhaps flushed with embarrassment at not making it on time.

He never did.

I sat on the wet slab of marble, ignoring the water that splashed and soaked my uniform from the fountain above me. I felt cold and miserable, incredibly foolish and ashamed at my desperation to see him again. I had waited for three long years, to show that I had become a Head Boy just like him and was doing okay with great grades and a chance to be even more successful once I graduated. I wanted to watch those blue eyes light up with pride for me, or to even hear him say something nice to me for once, without sounding so condescending and rude.

“Like he’d even give a fuck,” I muttered bitterly. Enkidu later said that he and Fujisaki had found me raving like a lunatic and cursing ‘the great, stupid Hunter Yates,’ while kicking a statue of one of the founding fathers of our school. I had to pay a fine for doing that. Come to think of it, the other three hadn’t shown up either–Lee Chen, Jack Sawyer, or Brad Johnson. I wonder if they had planned not to attend. Did they think they were too cool for a stupid reunion?

I guess that’s part of the reason why I have decided to attend this year’s party. Not only because it’s the seventy-fifth anniversary, but because all former students of power had been invited to stay at The Merlot for the three day weekend festivities. There was no way I was going to pass that up. The Merlot is only the most historic and grandest hotels in the country, and to think we were going to be pampered was too good to be true. All I had to do was bring myself and my luggage and the school would take care of the rest.

I think it’s also safe to say that I have no qualms about going this year. After all, it’s been five long years, and I think I’m over him now. I doubt I’ll get jumpy when I see him…If I see him.