Meet Tristan and Tara

“Tara! TARA!” Tristan’s voice echoed through the somewhat empty hallways. He got numerous stares from the few teachers who saw him as he ran. He wasn’t ever the type to just run down the hallways screaming random people’s names, so this was obviously a special moment. “Tara! TARA!”

Up ahead, Tristan could see Tara O’Connor in front of her locket, her face tinted ever so slightly pink as her name was yelled down the hallway. Slamming her locker shut, she turned towards her friend. “Whaaaat?” She whined. “Is it some stupid super hero action figure?”

Tristan’s hazel eyes sparkled. “Nope, even better than that!” He said, completely sincere. Turning around, he reached into his backpack and produced a big gray block, with some funny designs on it. “Heh, isn’t it cool?”

Tara stared at the block blankly. “You found a big rock? That’s it?”

“Well, yeah. But look at those designs on it! They’re awesome!”

Sure enough, upon looking closer, there were some weird carving and markings on the block. They seemed to have some sort of pattern to them, but at the same time, they seemed random. Circles and swirls, straight lines and sharp edges. It was truly a sight. It was beautiful in a way, but at the same time, it made no sense.

There were all qualities of course, that Tara could not appreciate. “It’s a block though. Are you going to build a castle with it? That’s childish, even for you Trist.” She said, taking the block from his hands and examining it with a bored expression.

“Well, no. I don’t really know what it is, but it’s pretty neat right?” Tristan, watching her look it over and wincing when she went to hold it in one hand. “Don’t drop it….”

“I won’t,” Tara said, before tossing it up in the air, and letting it fall to the ground with a loud thud.

“NO!” Tristan yelled, leaping to try and catch it, only to miss and let it fall. “Thanks a lot Tara.”

“No problem.” Tara smiled before turning away and heading off to class.

Tristan McDaniel was proud to say he was an abnormal child. He didn’t look that way if you saw him, but if you started to talk to him you would see he was a little out there. At eighteen, he still enjoyed Saturday morning cartoons and playing kid-friendly video games. He proudly wore a Ninja Turtles t-shirt to school to show this fact.

Tara O’Connor followed a similar trend. She didn’t fit in with the rest of the popular kids. This also didn’t bother her, as she had friends who mattered to her. These friends liked her for who she was, and that was all she needed. That was probably how she and Tristan grew to be good friends. They were both oddballs, and while their interests rarely overlapped, they got along just fine and were often seen together in school.

They shared few classes together, as Tristan was one of the brainy types, and Tara was not. Yet, she was in his last two classes of the day, English and Calculus. English was Tara’s best subject, but how they ended up in the same Calculus class was anyone’s guess. Tara was barely passing, while Tristan had a 90. A fact he liked to point out to her every chance he could get.

Their calculus teacher, Mr. Mojo, a balding man nearing the end of his teaching career, went up to the whiteboard. “Today, I want to continue our work on Derivatives.”

By now the calculus class was paying no attention at all to Mr. Mojo. He was a feeble man who couldn’t control a class if he tried. However, he continued the lesson, so the few students who sat in the front could learn, while everyone didn’t. Tristan and Tara, of course, were among those who didn’t learn.

“You know, you never pay attention. How do you learn this?” Tara asked, doodling in her notebook.

“I pay attention sometimes,” Tristan replied. “Just when it matters.”

“Sure you do,” Tara said, “So do I. Why do you get the better grades?”

“Because I fake it much better than you.” Tristan replied.

“Tristan, do you know the answer to the problem?” Mr. Mojo asked, rudely interrupting their conversation.

“Sure, it’s seven.” Tristan replied quickly.

“No, it’s not!”Mr. Mojo replied quickly, wearing a satisfied smile.

“No, it isn’t,” Tristan replied, “But I’m more than willing to learn what the real answer is.”

“That’s why you’re teachers’ pet, Trist,” Tara muttered.

“Yup.” Tristan replied happily.

So, the bell rang at 1:52 as it did every day, and Monday at Midtown High was over. At his locket, Tristan gathered his books and threw them into his backpack along with the big rock. They fit, but his backpack was a funny shape. “Hey, Trist!” came Tara’s voice.

“Whatever you want, it’s no,” Tristan joked, getting up. “What is it?”

“Wanna come over after school? I’ve got nothing to do all afternoon,” Tara replied.

Tristan smirked. “Ok, but only for a little while. I have stuff to do when I get home.”

“YAY!” Tara said, doing a quick dance with Tristan remained perfectly still. “Let’s go!”

They exited the school together, waving bye to their friends as they walked to Tristan’s car. However, to get there, they needed to cross a street from the school to the parking lot. As they walked across, a yellow car drove right at them. Jumping back, they very nearly missed getting splattered all over the pavement.

“BASTARD!” Tristan yelled, raising a fist into the air.

“WATCH WHERE YOU’RE GOING!” Tara added, also raising her fist into the air.

However, the near death of these two went largely unnoticed. Tristan took special care to looking both ways, and then went to the parking lot towards his 98
Buick Century. He unlocked it, and they got inside.

“That was weird. I don’t usually get hit by cars until I’m home,” Tara noted.

Tristan blinked, before replying, “Yeah, it was. Probably just some stupid driver going god knows where.”

He started the engine, and proceeded to exit the parking lot and headed towards Tara’s house. However, he seemed distracted, glancing at the rearview mirror constantly. Tara was babbling on about something anime related, before she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Tristan? You ok?”

“I think we’re being followed.” Tristan replied gravely.

Tara’s eyes widened. “What?! You have a stalker?!”

Tristan blinked. “A what? No, it’s that car from before. The one that nearly killed us.”

Tara squirmed in the seat, turning around. “Oh…wow….Yeah…There it is.”

“Yeah.” Tristan said, taking a turn that didn’t lead toward Tara’s house.

“Uh…Trist? My house is that way.” She said, pointing to the left.

“I know,” Tristan replied. “I’m trying to lose this guy.”

“Oh…” Tara replied, looking back, making sure it was obvious she was watching.

“You know Tristan,” she spoke again after several minutes, “I think the driver of that car is a guy.”

“So?”

“You have a gay stalker!” Tara said eagerly.

Tristan took three deep, cleansing breaths before speaking again. “No. Just…no.”

“Seriously! I think he’s gay, and he WANTS you!” Tara was talking quickly now, becoming more animated. She glanced back again. “Yellow is a gay color right?!”

“Tara!” Tristan exclaimed. “Be quiet! It doesn’t matter if he’s gay or not!”

“Sure it does! If he’s gay, he’s after you. If he’s straight…then…” She shuddered in the seat.

Tristan nodded. “Well, he is definitely following us.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah, we passed that baseball field three times.”

“What do we do then?” She asked.

“Call the police. I’m gonna pull into the next gas station. My meter is on E.” Tristan replied, tossing Tara his cell phone.

She called, while Tristan pulled into the gas station. The yellow car did so as well. He began to panic ever so slightly. “Hurry…” He mumbled, getting out of the car and walking inside the station. He paid for the gas, and came back out. The yellow car was right behind his own at the pump.

Tristan looked inside and saw a man with unruly hair that seemed dirty. His clothes were torn, and matched the yellow paint and black racing stripe perfectly. He glanced up, and Tristan looked away quickly. ‘Don’t let them know you know…’ He thought.

He acted completely unaware as he pumped the gas, the busy station seeming to provide a cover of sorts. Tara was still on the phone, looking as though nothing was wrong. Her hand griped the received tightly; her knuckles were white.

The man in the yellow car opened his door finally, and walked forward. He approached Tristan, who didn’t glance up. “Don’t move.” He said in a gruff tone.

Tristan remained stock-still. No one at the station seemed to pay him any attention. He saw a flash of silver, a pistol. His breath caught.

“I need you to tell the girl to hang up.” The man’s voice said.

Tristan walked forward, and knocked on the window. “Hang up.” He said. Tara froze up, and obeyed.

“Good, now I need you to park your car over in the parking space. However, she gets out and waits with me.” He said.

Tristan walked forward, and opened the door. He needed to remain calm. Don’t panic. Relax. Breathe. “T-tara…” He stammered. “You need to get out.”

“What?”

“Get out and wait with the man.”

Tara had tears in her eyes, but she blinked them away. She opened the car door, and stepped out.

Tristan started the car, and drove over to a parking space. He looked into the mirror, and saw the man motion for him to exit.

He turned off the engine, took his keys and exited. He walked back over to the man, who had the gun firmly in Tara’s back. No more tears, she was ready.

“Now, we’re going for a ride.” The man said, opening the door to his yellow car.

Tristan glanced around. For all the people at the station cared, they seemed to just be entering a car. He sighed nervously, and opened the back seat door. He stepped inside, and waited for Tara to follow suit. Tristan couldn’t help feeling that this car was more of a yellow hearse, and it was taking them to their graves.