Once they got on campus, things were supposed to get easier. They were going to the same college, still studying together at the library, still poring over books and cloudy skies and the velocity of baseballs and pounding feet, but Dylan could never quite shake the feeling he was falling behind. He hated school and more than one professor suggested tutoring or a different, easier course when they saw how much he studied and how little good it seemed to do.
Ellie smiled when she walked with her friends, but her eyebrows furrowed together in worry whenever she threaded her arm through his.
He wanted to wipe the concern out of her eyes. He wanted to find a way to keep up with her as she laughed her way through stacks of books.
“Textbooks are dead literature,” he told her over the library table one day, but he left them open anyway and pretended to be trying to read them. Endless weeks of studying and getting nowhere were beginning to wear away at Dylan’s edges, but he kept staring at the words, thinking somehow they’d start making sense.
Ellie glanced up from her pile of homework and fun books, the kind she used to read aloud to him in her bedroom. “They’re all books.” She shrugged, but her dark eyes took in his restless hands beating time on a history book, and he didn’t think she was as unconcerned as she was trying to let on.
He rolled his eyes and slid the history book across the table, indicating a particularly dry passage. “Dull, dead, boring. I hate the rain here,” he muttered. It wasn’t like the rain at home. They didn’t run in it.
She seemed to hesitate, then surprised him by drawing the history book toward her and beginning to read it aloud. Somehow, it didn’t matter how dry the material; she made it live with her voice.
By the middle of the second year, Dylan wanted out. Ellie was a good student and a beautiful girl. She was getting attention from students and teachers alike, and he was barely scraping by in a world he didn’t belong in.
She still tucked her hand into his arm as they walked, but he knew he was slowing her down. He knew if she ran, he couldn’t possibly keep up.
“Dylan.” Ellie shook her head as they stood in the sheltering doorway of the library as rain fell and soaked the green lawn. “I don’t...” She paused and lapsed into silence. “I don’t care if you get a degree in business.”
The Velocity of Rain (the Fill My Hands with You Remix), Part 3
Date: 2014-07-10 04:54 pm (UTC)Once they got on campus, things were supposed to get easier. They were going to the same college, still studying together at the library, still poring over books and cloudy skies and the velocity of baseballs and pounding feet, but Dylan could never quite shake the feeling he was falling behind. He hated school and more than one professor suggested tutoring or a different, easier course when they saw how much he studied and how little good it seemed to do.
Ellie smiled when she walked with her friends, but her eyebrows furrowed together in worry whenever she threaded her arm through his.
He wanted to wipe the concern out of her eyes. He wanted to find a way to keep up with her as she laughed her way through stacks of books.
“Textbooks are dead literature,” he told her over the library table one day, but he left them open anyway and pretended to be trying to read them. Endless weeks of studying and getting nowhere were beginning to wear away at Dylan’s edges, but he kept staring at the words, thinking somehow they’d start making sense.
Ellie glanced up from her pile of homework and fun books, the kind she used to read aloud to him in her bedroom. “They’re all books.” She shrugged, but her dark eyes took in his restless hands beating time on a history book, and he didn’t think she was as unconcerned as she was trying to let on.
He rolled his eyes and slid the history book across the table, indicating a particularly dry passage. “Dull, dead, boring. I hate the rain here,” he muttered. It wasn’t like the rain at home. They didn’t run in it.
She seemed to hesitate, then surprised him by drawing the history book toward her and beginning to read it aloud. Somehow, it didn’t matter how dry the material; she made it live with her voice.
By the middle of the second year, Dylan wanted out. Ellie was a good student and a beautiful girl. She was getting attention from students and teachers alike, and he was barely scraping by in a world he didn’t belong in.
She still tucked her hand into his arm as they walked, but he knew he was slowing her down. He knew if she ran, he couldn’t possibly keep up.
“Dylan.” Ellie shook her head as they stood in the sheltering doorway of the library as rain fell and soaked the green lawn. “I don’t...” She paused and lapsed into silence. “I don’t care if you get a degree in business.”