Yesterday by C. K. Kelly Martin Read Free Book Online

salad for lunch and then finish Derrick’s hamburger (which isn’t as bad as he says it is), wishing that I could come to the museum every day instead of going to school. I don’t feel out of place here. Do I need to become an archaeologist to successfully fit into my own life?
    After lunch Christine, Derrick and I hit the dinosaur exhibit, which seems to turn everyone (because I can see it in other tenth-grade faces too) into awed children. It’s strange to conceive of a time that dinosaurs roamed the earth—that they were here before we were. The perspective sends my head spinning. Will we have as long as they did or will nuclear arms wipe us off the face of the planet?
    “You’re quiet,” Derrick observes as I stare up at a cast of
Tyrannosaurus rex
, one of the last dinosaurs to walk the earth before mass extinction approximately 65 million years ago.
    Mass extinction
. I can’t wrap my head around the concept.
    “Do you think we’re doomed?” I ask. “Humanity.”
    Derrick nods readily. “Absolutely. Everything dies—and look how destructive we are as a species.” He shrugs andfolds his crumpled geography homework pages in two. “But it would happen anyway. Everything ends.”
    I can’t argue with that.
    I’m not even sure how I feel about it.
    How can
anything
matter from a perspective of probable mass extinction? Is it better to live like it will always be 1985?
    Beads of sweat are gathering on my upper lip. It’s too hot in here. I’m burning up. No headache yet, though, thank God.
    “You don’t look so good,” Christine tells me. “Are you feeling okay?”
    “Warm.” I smooth my palm across my face to soak up the sweat. “I think I’m getting dehydrated. I’m going to head back to the cafeteria for another drink.”
    “We’ll come with you,” Christine offers.
    “No, stay.” I point to Derrick’s crumpled sheets. “You guys still have blanks to fill in.”
    “So do you,” Derrick says.
    Yeah, but I don’t care
. Derrick may think we’re ultimately headed for mass extinction but he’s still the kind of person who likes to have his homework done on time. He’s not just going through the motions like I am.
    I tell Christine and Derrick I’m fine, wave them both away and say I’ll catch up with them in the next gallery. It’s what I fully intend to do but then I get to thinking that the fastest way to cool down is to step outside into February.
    Canadians complain about the weather nonstop but I don’t mind the cold. I retrieve my coat from the museumcoat check and step out onto the heavily salted city sidewalk. There’s no question that it’s better out here. The air inside is stale and warm in comparison. I stretch my legs and walk to the corner, enjoying the feel of the breeze on my face. I still love the museum—I just wish they’d lower the temperature, not that it seems to bother anyone else.
    I smell hotdogs cooking before I see them and my first thought is that if I hadn’t eaten lunch less than an hour ago I’d be reaching into my pocket to pay for one with everything on it—heaps of peppers, relish, mustard, ketchup, onions—but there’s a first time for everything and I’m not hungry. However, my craving for ice-cold soda (like they’re advertising on the front of the hotdog cart) is something fierce and pushes me into line behind a teenage guy only a couple of years older than me. In the beginning I don’t bother to look at him closely, just catch a glimpse of his profile and black winter coat, which is hanging open the same way mine is.
    Then I notice him licking his lips as the vendor hands him a sizzling hotdog loaded with the works. He bites into it, ingesting nearly half the hotdog in a single bite and I stifle a laugh but the guy’s too busy eating to notice me anyway. I watch him stroll away as I order a Coke. My eyes can’t tear themselves from his form.
    For a start, he’s the best-looking guy I’ve laid eyes on since I landed back in