“Maybe I have no interest in becoming your friend. I’m only sitting here with you because I have to be.”
“Ouch, as if your words could get anymore prickly.” Micah glared at me. “Trust me, it’s mutual. I have no interest in being your friend, either.” He picked up his notebook and grabbed his backpack from the floor, swinging it over his shoulder.
“Bad Blood” (Live Piano)
Bastille
I DIDN’T STOP HIM. I couldn’t have cared less. He was irritating and beyond infuriating. I was relieved to finally be away from him.
But, as soon as he disappeared from sight, I was flooded with guilt. Why was I always snubbing him? I ignored the clock on the wall and the lurking twenty minutes I had left of study hall. I decided to pack my belongings, and signed myself out of the library. Spending my last period of the day in the art studio was the sort of emotional therapy I needed.
I was relieved to see the room was almost empty when I arrived. Daan was working quietly in the corner on the pottery wheel, while a few underclassmen painted. I always enjoyed watching Daan mold something new with his hands. Sometimes I would tease him by singing “Unchained Melody” until he’d smirk and say, “I’m not Patrick Swayze.”
“A girl can dream,” I’d reply with a playful wink. We always had fun together.
I sat beside Daan, dropping my backpack to my feet. He looked up.
“Hey, Charlie. What brings you here?” Daan returned his attention to the pile of clay in his hands, dipping his fingers into a cup of water on the table, near his knee.
“I just wanted to hang out with you. Where’s Mrs. Swartz?” There was no sign of the art teacher anywhere.
“It’s just me. Mrs. Swartz had to run to a faculty meeting. I guess I’m the one in charge until she returns.”
“Should I call you Mr. Scott?”
“It’s ‘Great Scott’ to you,” he teased. “Want to make something?” He stopped the pottery wheel and wiped his hands on the long, paint-stained apron he wore over his blue jeans and shirt. His hands had a few layers of clay on them. “I have some clay you can use. I got a bit too much.”
I smiled at Daan. He always knew exactly how to cheer me up. “Sure,” I replied. I didn’t want to think about Micah or the fight we just had. It was stupid. Daan gestured to the other station with his dirty hands.
“Just bring that over…and the clay is on the table there.”
I got everything set up, along with a cup of water, and started moving the clay between my hands. I enjoyed getting the slimy substance between my fingers. I never made anything that was worth saving, no matter how many tricks Daan showed me. He tried to teach me how to make a cup once; it ended up looking like the Leaning Tower of Pisa.
“So, what’s going on in Charlie-ville?” he asked, brushing a bit of his bangs away with his clean arm. I shrugged as I slid my fingers around the clay.
“Other than the whole Micah thing?” I replied.
“Ah, yeah. Right. Samantha is kind of a douche,” Daan shrugged.
“Kind of,” I mumbled.
“What’s going on with that? I heard you two have an English project now, too?”
“Yup. A real-life soap opera,” I said as I squeezed my fingers deeply into the moving clay.
Okay, I was overreacting. Micah had been right about that at least. It was stifling to be so concerned by what other people thought of me.
“I just met up with Micah in study hall,” I continued. “And we had this awful…I don’t even want to call it a fight. Miscommunication?” That wasn’t the right word either. We communicated just fine. Only, we had differences.
“Then, why don’t you just go apologize?” Daan asked. His fingers began to sculpt the clay into a large vase with deep, curved grooves.
“It’s not that easy,” I said. But maybe it could be that easy. The way the words rolled off of Daan’s tongue, anything seemed possible. Maybe if Micah weren’t so stubborn. Maybe if I weren’t so stubborn…. I hadn’t noticed the slowing of my movements until my clay abruptly fell into itself. I watched with envy as Daan’s creation began to look more and more like a professional vase from a store. I admired how he took his time to create something perfect. One day, he was going to become a famous artist and he’d forget all about Grand Lakes and unimportant people like me.
Daan stood and walked to the sink to wash his hands. “It just sounds like you need to go talk to the guy again. I don’t know much about him, but, for the most part, he seems to be semi-reasonable.” Semi-reasonable?
“I’m avoiding him for now. I’m just going home with Josh today.” I looked down at the mess of clay, which now resembled nothing (other than a heap of poop) and sighed.
“I guess that works, too.” Daan nodded. “I mean, I tend to avoid people, too. Mainly Samantha. She’s been on me since the beginning of the school year. I think she has it in her mind that I’m going to ask her to Homecoming. And it’s just not going to happen.”
I wrinkled my nose and huffed out a small laugh, “Wow. I’m sorry.”
“Surprising, right?” Daan smirked.
“Not really,” I said honestly. It was pretty well known to all of us that Samantha liked Daan. Her expectation of his invitation didn’t come as a huge surprise.
“Yeah, I think she’s been in love with me since, like…the first grade. She would race me on the playground and scream in my ear. I remember, in third grade, she used to make a game of chasing me and calling me ‘Marshmallow' at every recess. When she’d finally catch me, she’d pretend to eat me. Samantha is an odd cookie. Always has been, always will be.”
Whoa. I didn’t even know how to process that information. Samantha has been in love with Daan since first grade? She had never told me that—even back then.
“By your expression, I can tell you’re shocked.” Daan laughed, coming back to sit down beside me. I could only nod, doing my best to not laugh out loud.
“We’ve had some great times together. When High School Musical was popular, she’d come over and we’d record each other singing the songs and acting out the scenes.” Daan paused, grinning at me. “Don’t tell her I told you that. I’m pretty sure she’d kill me.”
Oooohhh. I was mentally documenting all of this in a folder. I never wanted to forget. Ever. Even if just for my own enjoyment.
“Right, I won’t,” I said slowly. This would become purely as-needed blackmail, to be used only under dire circumstances.
“But, I just don’t like her like that,” Daan continued. “I guess it sucks for her, more than for me.”
“Do you like someone?” I asked, curious. Daan shrugged.
“I mean, I guess I do. But it’s not something that I’m really open to talking about. I don’t think I’m really ready to come out and say…what I want to say.” He paused, looking as if he had just revealed more than he’d wanted to. I nodded and directed my attention back to the mound of clay.
“If you’re not going to make anything, just stick it on my wheel. I’ll do something with it.” He chuckled.
“Not going to teach me like Patrick Swayze?” I teased.
He rolled his eyes and pointed to his phone.
“The song is on my playlist if you want to play it.” Too perfect. I stood up, bringing the clay over to his station.
“I just want to listen to ‘Africa’ when it’s over,” he added with a smile. With the remaining class period, I watched as Daan created a bowl and drew the letter C in the middle with his fingertip. If this was what therapy felt like, I needed to come see Daan every day.
I STOOD BY JOSH’S JEEP, waiting for him or at least one of his friends to show up. There was a lineup of buses by the school, and I hoped Micah wouldn’t notice me. I didn’t want to have to lie to him about my reason for riding with Josh. I grabbed the paperback from my backpack and decided to read.
The voice was getting closer and it was definitely Micah’s. Please go away. Please don’t make a scene. His black sneakers appeared in front of me as his hand pushed the book away from my face.
“Are you seriously ignoring me?” he demanded, a little out of breath. “I think everyone and their mama heard me.”
“Sounds like a personal problem.” I lifted the book back up to my eyes. He sideswiped the novel and grabbed it out of my hands.
“Look, I was a huge jerk to you in the library. I’m sorry. And I forgive you for being a huge jerk, too. So, you don’t have to apologize.”
“Great, because I wasn’t going to. Now, give me back my book.”
“First, technically it’s my book. I’m the one who checked it out for you. Second, seriously? I’m trying to make this better. I know we have to work together and I didn’t mean what I said back there. I’d actually like to be your friend.” He held out the book to me, a humorless expression in his eye. “I mean that. I want us to be friends.”
As my gaze met his, the warmth in his brown eyes startled me. It was there, buried underneath all the pride and shameless flirting. I took in the sight of him: his hair was disheveled and he was breathing hard. Did he run through the hallways just to catch up with me? Even his cheeks had a pink tint to them.
“No kissing in the screenplay,” I blurted. “I mean it.” I went to grab the book but he pulled it away, shaking his head.
“There can’t be stipulations in friendship, Charlie. We’ll never trust each other then. You’ll have to have faith that I’ll respect your wishes. I won’t do anything to make you feel uncomfortable, okay? If it means that much to you, we’ll work out the details of the relationship between Victor and Elizabeth.”
“You haven’t given me a reason to trust you,” I argued.
“I haven’t given you a reason not to,” he stated. “You think that I’m like the guys on the bus, but I’m really not. Yeah, I’ve smoked pot on the football field. Who hasn’t?”
“I haven’t.”
“All right, other than the geek queen,” Micah smirked. “You don’t do anything fun.” I rolled my eyes. Yes, because smoking pot is “fun.”
“Lots of people don’t smoke pot.”
“Besides the point,” Micah continued. “Give me some credit. I tried that once and kinda hated the way it made me feel. I acted like an asshole the whole time.”
“You must struggle with that feeling every day.” I bit back my smile.
“You’re a real gem, has anyone ever told you that, Caroline Blake?”
“Oh, yes. A real diamond in the rough.” Yes, I love Disney. Judge me.
Micah snorted and handed the book back to me.
“Do you need a ride?” Josh’s voice caused me to jump as he came up behind me. I could only imagine how this must have seemed to him. Just this morning I was begging for a ride to school so I could avoid Micah. I bit my bottom lip as he looked between the two of us. After a moment of awkward silence, Josh gestured to the Jeep.
“I don’t have Ben and J this afternoon. They’re staying behind to work out. And by the looks of it, you both missed the bus.”
My eyes turned to where the buses had been. The last one was pulling out. I hadn’t even realized.
“Nah, man. It’s all right.” Micah brushed a hand through his hair. “I can walk home.”
“Dude, you live near us, right? It’s a long way to walk. I don’t mind. I have plenty of room in the Jeep,” Josh insisted. “Or are you scared of Charlie’s big, older brother?”
At that, I snorted.
“Fine,” Micah shrugged.
Josh went to the driver’s side, unlocking the doors for us to get in. “Shotgun!” I darted to the passenger door. Micah gave me a disgruntled look as he climbed into the back of the Jeep.
“So, you live near the old Sully place, right?” Josh asked Micah, watching him through the rearview mirror.
Micah cleared his throat. “Yeah, but you can drop me off near the light. I don’t want you to go out of your way.”
“It’s seriously not a problem,” Josh repeated. “Really.”
It was a quiet ride to Greensboro Trax. My eyes scanned between the two boys as Josh drove silently. I could tell Micah wanted out of the Jeep—badly. Josh finally pulled into the trailer park, behind the old diner that used to be called Sully’s. There was a lot of talk in the community about bringing it back, but the other buildings near the restaurant were rundown and dilapidated. It definitely wasn’t the right venue for an up-and-coming diner.
“You can just stop here. I can walk. No big deal. Thanks for the ride.” Micah tugged on the door handle, opening it. Josh hit the brakes.
“Are you crazy? Shut the door!”
“Seriously. I’m good. I’ll walk from here.”
“Fine, whatever.” Josh shook his head and leaned back against his headrest. Micah got out and headed toward the line of trailers.
We both stared at Micah’s retreating figure.
“I don’t understand why he wouldn’t let us take him to his house,” I replied under my voice, as if Micah might hear me.
“Makes sense to me. Maybe he feels ashamed of where he lives.”
“I doubt that. Micah doesn’t care what anyone thinks.”
Josh snorted. “I think his attitude is just a front. He’s afraid of not being good enough for the girl he likes.
I looked at Josh with wide eyes. Were we talking about the same guy? Micah like me?
As Josh backed up the Jeep, Micah turned and looked at us. What if he did like me? And what if I liked him back?
What would that mean?
I waited all night to hear from Micah. After dinner and a hot shower, I gave in. Curling up underneath my comforter, I pulled my phone off of the charger and texted him.
CHARLIE: Why didn’t you let us take you home?
MICAH: Does it matter?
CHARLIE: It does, to me.
MICAH: My dad sleeps during the day and works at nite.
MICAH: I try to not make much noise when I get home.
CHARLIE: You could have just told us that.
MICAH: I don’t have to tell u anything.
CHARLIE: If we’re friends, you can share that sort of thing with me.
MICAH: So now we’re friends?
CHARLIE: Yes, Micah. I want to be your friend.
MICAH: Are u riding the bus 2morrow?
CHARLIE: Maybe.
MICAH: Alright then. I’ll see u 2morrow.
CHARLIE: Micah?
MICAH: Yea?
CHARLIE: I’m sorry I was mean to you today.
MICAH: What r u doin rt now?
CHARLIE: I’m in bed, talking to you.
MICAH: Wanna go grab a bite with me?
CHARLIE: Uh, sure!
MICAH: I’ll come get u – give me 5.
CHARLIE: Okay! You drive?
MICAH: Of course I drive. I just take advantage of free transportation.
MICAH: It’s shocking but I’m not made of $$$$.
MICAH: Leaving now.
CHARLIE: I’ll be looking for an old, rusted car.
MICAH: Keep ur ears open! U might hear it first.
“Time of Our Lives”
James Blunt
I JUMPED OUT OF BED and went over to my closet. I scanned through my hanging clothes until I found my favorite pair of jeans. I didn’t have time to rethink my damp hair, so I tugged it into a ponytail and clipped my side-swept bangs back with a bobby pin. I grabbed a sweatshirt from one of my drawers and slipped out of my room. Josh was lounging on his bed w
atching Netflix while my parents were absorbed in one of those singing reality shows in the living room.
“Can I go grab a bite down the street?” I stopped at the entryway to the living room. My dad turned in his recliner and lifted his watch.
“It’s a little late, don’t you think?”
“I’m studying for a test and I want something that’ll keep me awake,” I began to fib. I hated lying to my dad, mostly because he seemed to have an inbuilt lie detector. Usually, he knew when I wasn’t telling the truth. With that in mind, I added, “Micah invited me. We need to work on our English project.”
“Oh, so you want permission to go hang out with a boy at night?” My dad glanced at my mom. “What do you think?”
My mom’s gaze moved from the TV screen to my dad. She smiled.
“Just be back in an hour,” my dad said in his trying-to-be-stern voice. “Do you need some money?”
“I have some, but thanks, Dad. I appreciate it.”
“Be safe.” He leaned back in his chair as I headed for the door. “Flip on the outdoor light, too, Charlie.”
Smiling at him, I gave a nod. “I will.”
I opened the front door as Micah pulled into the driveway in a black Pontiac Grand Am.
“Bye! I’ll be back in a bit!” I shouted over my shoulder and closed the door behind me. With each step down the driveway, I couldn’t control the nervous tightening in my chest. It was hard to breathe and think at the same time. Would this be considered…a date? Was I actually going out with Micah Jacobs? I really didn’t need a snack this late anyway, and Frankenstein could wait, too.
The Songs in Our Hearts: A Young Adult Romance Page 6