Chapter 14- Polly

No greater truth had ever passed Sara’s lips. After leaving the stadium and heading around the gymnasium, Polly found herself in a disquieting land of darkness. Tabb High had a lot of trees. The branches blocked most of the sky, as did the overhanging roofs. She wished she had a flashlight. She had never cared much for the dark. It had been on a dark and lonely road when her parent’s had died. She remembered it well. She remembered everything.

What did that b*****d say about them?                               

Her steps echoed softly as she strode down the empty open hallway. She was uneasy, yes, but she also enjoyed the emptiness. Sometimes during the day she wished she could be this alone, strolling the campus free and easy, meeting only those people she chose to meet, hearing only those voices she wanted to hear, touching only those who wanted to touch her…

What did Clark say about me?

Polly was crossing the courtyard, passing beneath what she had heard referred to as the varsity tree, when the can landed on top of her head. It startled her something awful; she had practically had a heart attack right there on the spot. She jumped away from the tree and cried in a trembling voice, “Who’s there?”

A vague figure shifted above her in the branches. She leaned slightly forward- all the while telling herself to turn the other way- straining to see better. “Hello?” she croaked.

The figure croaked back. No, it was more of a belch. She reached down, picked up the can that struck her on the head, smelled the beer. Her fear disappeared as quickly as it had come. Somebody was just getting drunk in private. Laughing, she walked towards the tree trunk.

“Hey, if I was you I wouldn’t be drinking up there. You could slip and hurt-“

A flash of wood and metal whipped by, inches from her face. Polly leapt back a step. Embedded in the ground in the grass at her feet was a huge axe.

Polly screamed bloody murder.

The guy fell out of the tree. Polly kept screaming. He rolled over and looked up at her. “What time is it?” he mumbled.

Polly bit her lip. “Past nine thirty.”

The guy sat up, rubbed his head. “Where are the birds?”

“What birds?”

“I heard birds.” He burped again, deep and loud, and reached for his axe.

“That was me. Excuse me, what are you doing with that?”

He was using it, Polly realised a moment later, to climb to his feet. She relaxed a notch. There was empty beer cans littering the ground. This guy wouldn’t be chasing her anywhere.

“Do you need some help?” she asked tentatively. He briefly gained an upright position, clinging to the axe handle, before swaying forward and smacking his skull directly into the tree trunk. “Oh no!” she cried jumping to his side. “You’ll kill yourself.”

“What time is it?” he breathed in her face. With the lack of light, she couldn’t see what he looked like. She could, however smell him. He must have poured half the beer over his shirt.

“I told you, past nine thirty. Why do you keep asking me that?”

He tried to get up again. “Got to chop this down before morning, before the birds get here.”

“You can’t do that.” She tried to pull the axe from his hands. “No.”

He wouldn’t let go of the handle. “Why not?”

“Because it’s a pretty tree. Leave it alone.”

The guy turned, stared at the trunk, and then spat on it. “Those f****t foots- football. They all stand here.” He leaned into the axe, pushing himself up. “It’s got to go.”

Polly moved back a step. He raised the axe over his head. It looked capable of flying in a dozen different directions. “Stop!” she pleaded.

He let go with a wild swing. The tip of the axe sliced into the bark. Leaning back, he tried to pull it free. His hands ended up slipping from the handle, and he was back on his a*s. Before he could get up, Polly knelt by his side, putting both her palms on his chest. Even through his shirt, she could feel his curves of his well-developed pectoral muscles. “Look, you’ve got to stop. If you kill this tree, you will be killing all the birds who live in it.”

“I can’t hurt the birds,” he said trying repeatedly to get up, not realising it was she that was holding him down.

“That’s right. So why don’t we take your nice axe and put in the car and I’ll drive you home.” She wasn’t exactly sure why she had made the offer. It could have been because of some distant streetlight. A sliver of white had fallen across his face, revealing a rugged- rough would probably have been closer to the truth- handsomeness. He belched again, his jaw dropping open.

“Is it you?” he asked amazed.

“Who? What?”

“You! I stopped the race for you. the foots- Coach made them kick me off the team. All because of you.”

“No it wasn’t me.”

He wiped the back of his arm across his nose. “You’re pretty Sara.”

“Thank you. Let me take you home.”

“Your place or mine?” he slurred as she helped him up.

“Your place. What’s your name?”

“Rusty- Russ.”

“I’m Polly.”

“Sara Polly.”

“I’m whoever you want me to be.”

It took time getting the axe out of the tree. It took longer getting Russ and the axe into her car. Fortunately he remembered where he lived. She assumed it was the right house. She deposited him in the front yard without knocking on the front door and then headed back for the stadium. She decided to keep the axe for now. In his intoxicated condition, there was no telling what he might do with it.

She liked him. And she didn’t care he was the guy Sara had been searching for all night. She’d seen Clark first and look at where that got her. Nowhere.

When it came to love, you were a fool to be nice.