Every other Friday, I’ll post a snippet of my own writing for what I’m calling “Fiction Fridays.” Here’s the first installment, featuring a section from the beginning of my current work-in-progress, a contemporary fiction novel titled Chaos Theory. The scene describes the initial meeting between the main character, Meredith, and an important secondary character, Jeremiah. I’d love to hear your feedback, but do keep in mind it’s still a first draft!
October 2013
The pounding of her shoes against the cold pavement reverberated throughout her body, like standing too close to the speakers at a party and being able to feel the music as a solid force. Meredith made her feet to keep time to Beyonce’s “Countdown” as it blared through her headphones. Her breathing came steadily, the late fall air feeling refreshing against her skin but crisp in her lungs. She realized the sunscreen she had applied to her pale, freckled skin was probably unnecessary, but years of painful sunburns had taught her to be cautious. The pond at Railroad Park passed along to her left, seeming noticeably empty since the ducks had left for warmer weather. She followed the trail winding around the pond and the perimeter of the park, the yellow grass contrasting against the grey sky on the horizon. The ducks weren’t the only ones who had decided against the weather; in spring and summer she was often dodging children, other runners, even skateboarders who came to the urban park. Today she seemed to have the park mostly to herself. Until, that is, the bike slammed her from behind.
Meredith went sprawling, barely managing to avoid slamming her head on the ground as she threw her hands out in front of her. The fall had yanked her headphones from her ears, and she turned in outrage to see what careless biker had been so preoccupied they hadn’t been able to avoid the only other person at the park. Prepared for a cavalier teenager, she was surprised to see a young man, around her age, still struggling to get up from under the bike that had collapsed on him in his half of the collision. Meredith helped him lift the bike up, and he scrambled to his feet.
“Crap! Crap, crap, crap, are you okay?” were his first words to her. Meredith’s anger melted slightly at the truly concerned look in his face as he examined her, not in the way men did when she went out to a bar, but checking for—what? Broken bones protruding from her skin, joints at inhuman angles, blood streaming from scrapes? She had none of these injuries. Her hands stung from scraping along the pavement, and one knee of her legging now had a hole in it, which was annoying but not a physical injury.
“Um, I’m fine,” Meredith said. “Are you—”
“Did you hit your head? You could have a concussion and not realize it,” he said stepping closer. Meredith instinctively stepped backwards. He paused, seeming to realize he was intruding on her personal space. “Sorry. I was trying to see if your pupils seem dilated. I—I read in an article somewhere that’s a way to tell if someone has a concussion. If their pupils dilate when they don’t need to.”
“I’m fine,” Meredith repeated. “I didn’t hit my head. Are you okay?”
“Oh, yeah, I’m good. Didn’t hit anything important in my fall,” the man said, waving off her concern for him.
“Maybe I meant before the fall, because if you don’t have some sort of medical excuse for running me over like that, then I might have to get you arrested for negligent driving or something,” Meredith said. The man paused, eyes widening slightly, until she allowed a small smile to escape her lips. He laughed, his relief evident in the sound.
He snorted. “Negligent driving. That’s a good one. Can you call riding a bike driving? I guess so,” he meandered.
“It was all I could think of on the spot,” Meredith replied. “So … if there’s no medical explanation, then am I to assume you hit the only other person in the park on purpose?”
He shook his head vehemently. “No! Of course not! I … well … the thing is … this is my first time riding a bike.” He shoved his hands in the pockets of his jeans and glanced away as he admitted this.
“Like … ever?” Meredith asked, brow furrowed. He nodded. “Well … the good news is, you can only go up from here.” He looked up from the ground to see her smiling again, and he started laughing. Meredith laughed, too. It wasn’t that funny—she knew this—but something about his laugh made you want to join.
“Well, that’s one way to find a silver lining,” he said, grinning. He stuck out his hand. “I’m Jeremiah, by the way.” He had sandy blonde hair that flopped about passively, except where it curled at the ends, framing his tan face. His hazel eyes were nothing remarkable, but lit up in a particular way when he smiled, as if all he desired in that moment was for someone to join him in the smile.
She returned the handshake. “Meredith.”
“Nice to meet you, Meredith,” he said, still shaking her hand. She finally broke contact, as it seemed like his hand might linger forever on hers if she let it, which she might be inclined to do, but she was also distracted by how he was looking at her now. Still not the full body examination like other men, but he seemed to be somehow appreciating her more, like how a first-time visitor might take in the Venus de Milo. It wasn’t unwelcome, as much as unexpected, and she looked down, shifting her weight as she cleared her throat.
“So, are you a student?” she asked, to break a silence that wasn’t awkward, but she still felt obligated to say something.
“Yeah, a senior at Beeson University,” he said. “You?”
“Same,” she said, smiling. “Journalism and mass communications.”
“Nice!” he said, in a way that seemed to actually mean it, and not just an obligatory response. “I’m business.”
“I hear business majors are renowned for their bike riding skills. That why you’re trying to learn before you graduate?” She smiled.
He laughed. “No, I don’t think bike riding is a requirement for graduation. Golfing, maybe, but I’ll save that as a project for next week.”
She nodded in mock seriousness. “I’ll be sure not to visit the driving range then. I might not fare so well if I get run over by a golf cart.”
He snorted. “I’m not going to live this down, am I?”
She shook her head. “Not while I’m around, anyway.”
He caught her eye. “Well, I suppose it’s a small price to pay if you get to stick around.” She looked away, unsure of how to respond. He decided to spare her the effort, and continued. “How about you keep mocking me as I get you a drink at Good People? It’s just across the street.”
“I know,” retorted Meredith. She had lived here for nearly seven years, she knew the city inside and out. Then she relented. It was not his invitation that riled her, it was…
“Well, then you know that their seasonal beer right now is their best seasonal of the whole year,” Jeremiah said, undeterred by her short reaction.
“No way,” she replied, distracted. “Spring seasonal is the best there is.”
He shook his head. “See? These are things we should debate at Good People, not standing out here in the cold.”
She laughed, and then paused. One drink couldn’t hurt. “Fine. But you’re walking there, not riding your bike.”
He broke into a smile. “Fair enough.”
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Featured image by Ev.
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