Day Eleven

By some miracle, I am still on my word count. That miracle is, I believe, known as "having a laptop." Since I refuse to write by hand in favor of using a computer, having a portable version translates into the ability to write...well, anywhere, really. On the couch, in various houses, in random parts of campus, in the kitchen of my dorm while making dinner, or in the car on the way home from Vermont (I wasn't driving, I promise).

Last night's wordcount: 17,018. Today's goal: 18,337.

I've also been offered the opportunity to write a guest post for http://www.hownottowrite.com/. I'll probably make an attempt, even if it turns out to be a shameful one that I wouldn't actually send to anybody and end up trashing. After all, I have procrastination to get to!

I stopped, turned around, and jogged the other way. There was no way I was going to try to wade through them; somehow I doubted they would move. I’d just have to take the long way back.

As I reached the edge of the pond and came around the last tree into the parking lot, I was startled to see Fin. He was walking toward the path, but stopped when he saw me.

“You don’t want to go down there,” I warned him. “There’s crows, lots of them, and they look mean.”

He looked at me thoughtfully for a moment, then nodded. “Yeah, I know.”

“You know? Then why are you going that way?”

He shrugged. “I was curious.”

“About what? Have you never seen a crow before?”

“I’ve seen a lot of them, actually,” he said. I was inching away from the head of the path as he spoke, not wanting to encounter the huge birds again. I hoped he would take the hint and either let me go or walk with me. I didn’t want to be rude by just walking away in the middle of a conversation, but I really wanted to be elsewhere at that moment.

“Um. Are you a birder?” I guessed.

“Nah, not my thing,” he said. “Just crows.” He didn’t explain further, but he did finally start walking away from the path. I followed quickly, unsure what else to say but glad to be getting away from the pond and the woods.

We walked in silence for a minute while I worried about various things. I had no idea what he was thinking, and after our conversations in class, I was pretty sure I didn’t want to know.

“Have you always attracted crows?” he asked suddenly, pulling me out of my thoughts.

“Huh? Oh, um, no. I don’t think so,” I said. “I mean, there was this one last week, but before that, no.”

“Recent,” he muttered to himself, nodding like he had confirmed a suspicion. Then to me, “What happened? With the last crow, I mean.”

“It flew into my window,” I answered, shuddering at the memory. “It was dark, I guess he couldn’t see it or something. It…” I left it there. The rest just sounded completely nuts, which I probably was. This conversation undoubtedly meant nothing.

“What?” he prompted, but I shook my head.

“Nothing.”

He turned and stared at me as we walked along, and I stared back, wondering if this was a no-blinking contest like the kind I used to have with Marielle in third grade. If it was, I was going to lose; I’d never been good at them.

“Hm,” he finally said, and faced forward again.

“What?” I asked.

“Nothing,” he said, shaking his head and clearly imitating me.

“Oh, I see,” I said. “If I don’t talk, you don’t either?” Usually that would get people to protest – and to start talking. Not this time.

“Yup,” he said amiably.

Well, I told myself, I could be just as stubborn. I didn’t say another word except for “bye” for the rest of the walk.