Toenail

The sensation was clear. He’d felt this before. Trying to ignore the feeling, thinking if he could forget it, the toenail would stop digging into his foot. The image of his father with a pair of toenail clippers removing half his nail kept entering his mind. He continued packing his bag in a deliberate manner, trying to remember how his mother often packed. The thought of this made him hesitate for a moment. The Trapper Keeper, being the largest of his school things went in first, followed by his Pee Chees, then his pencil pouch. His jacket was crammed in over everything. He zipped up his bag from right to left and slung it over his right shoulder.

“Bye, Mrs. Brooks,” he said.

“Goodbye,” she said.

His toe twinged again and he went into a skip in an attempt to ignore the vibration emanating through his British Knights.

He walked down the corridor towards the entrance of the school; he liked it when the corridor was empty, for reasons he didn’t know or bother exploring, it made him feel more grown up. He could hear parents yelling for their children over the screams and shouts of other kids. He pulled at his jeans, which he felt were unnecessarily tight. He couldn’t wait until he got home and put on a pair of sweats. A group of kids in Boy Scout uniforms walked up the hill towards the west entrance, followed by a group of kids wearing soccer jackets. He made his way to the south entrance; he rarely took the west entrance. The thought of walking up that hill always made him sweaty.

He saw his friend waiting for him at the edge of the entrance and jogged to meet him, keeping the ball of his right foot as elevated as he could manage.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey,” said his friend, “Why are you running like that?”

“I don’t know,” he said. He didn’t know why he lied.

He pulled out a yo-yo and practiced walking the dog. He’d been practicing this move ever since the Yo-Yo Man had visited the school during an assembly.

“I don’t get it,” he said.

“How to walk the dog?” asked his friend.

“Yeah,” he said.

His friend shrugged his shoulders as they kept walking.

He looked up at the sky, wondering what he would be having for dinner. He closed his eyes as images of pizza, cheeseburgers and fried rice passed through his mind. He reopened them when sharp buzz sparked up his leg and into his groin. A few feet in front of him lay a large rock. Closing his eyes once more, he clenched every muscle he thought he had until the buzzing stopped. He picked up the rock and chucked it at a nearby tree.

“You OK?” asked his friend.

“Yeah,” he said.

He thought he could feel blood dripping from his toe now. He wiggled his toes around, feeling for liquid, but he couldn’t tell if it was blood or sweat. He thought about stopping and taking off his shoe to check, but he didn’t want to make his friend wait more than he already had. He always felt bad making people wait for him, mostly because he hated waiting for people. He imagined his dad telling him, “Patience is a virtue,” as he frequently did.

“Do you think K2’s on his leash?” he asked.

“I hope so,” said his friend, “I don’t feel like running today.”

“Yeah, me neither,” he said.

“I hate that dog,” said his friend.

“Me too,” he said.

As they rounded the final turn on their block, they approached with caution, peaking down K2’s driveway on the tips of their feet, being as quiet as possible. He thought about the times he snuck out of bed when he was supposed to be asleep, trying to get as close to the living room as he could without getting caught. Not for any particular reason, just a test of his abilities.

K2 started barking, but the barking didn’t get louder; they heard the clanking of his chain and immediately relaxed.

“Phew,” said his friend.

“Yeah,” he said, “that’s a relief.”

They kept walking around the turn towards his house.

“What’s that in your yard?” his friend asked.

“What’s what?” he asked.

“That blue sign,” said his friend.

“I don’t know,” he said.

He walked up to the sign posted next to his dad’s purple Cougar. The sign said Golden Realty on both sides. He thought and thought, but couldn’t understand why a sign that said Golden Realty would be blue.