by Shaun Plair
The class slowly filled, and a pair of softball-playing BFFs eventually sat in the two desks across from mine.
“Hey, Ana,” the blonde one said.
“Hey.”
It was getting close to time for the bell to ring as the last few stragglers rushed into the trailer. A hefty guy of about six feet let his weight fall into the seat next to me to complete our group of four. I waited to smile at him but he didn’t make contact with any of us. Right as the bell rang, Eric entered. He passed our group, but I noticed him eyeing each of the seats around me before taking an empty spot in the group next to ours.
Mr. Kyle started to take attendance, and before a minute passed the room filled with humming conversation and a crescendo of laughter. The guy next to me and I had nothing to talk about, not that he’d be willing to speak to me even if we did, and the two giggle-twins across from me were so into their inside jokes there’d be no trying to break into their two-way. I reached down into my bag to pull out my binder and a pencil, then leaned back in my chair, let my head drift backwards, and rested my eyes.
“Hey man.” Eric’s voice, to my right. My eyes shot open and I saw that he was talking to the big kid next to me. Before I could stop it, my torso shifted upright in the chair as I keyed into their conversation.
“Yeah?” The guy’s voice was a lot like his appearance.
“Can you take my spot?”
What was he doing?
“Why?” The guy’s first words of the day.
“I wanted to be with Ana.”
So blunt. So to the point. He was totally content with admitting—assuming it was the truth—that he wanted to be with me.
The hefty guy moved and Eric slid into his seat, putting his bag under the desk as he did.
“Hey,” was all he said. I stared at him in disbelief. A quick breath fled through my nose as I pulled my eyes to look down at the binder in-between my elbows on the desk.
The girls across the table had grown quiet. I flashed them a quick smile, urging them to continue their conversation—and they did.
“I have something for you.”
I wasn’t hallucinating. He was talking to me. “Didn’t we have an agreement?” I shoved my hands under my legs as I spoke, and I searched for the answer in the deep, dark brown of his eyes.
“So I can’t talk to you? Not ever?”
“That was the idea.”
“Well I didn’t agree to all that.” He adjusted himself in his seat and sat up to mirror my posture. His hands held each other, and then he turned to me. And there was the smirk again.
“Yes, you did.”
“Well I take it back. But don’t worry, I’m not going to bother you. Don’t you want to see what I brought you?”
The idea of his “leaving me alone” changing whenever he pleased was unacceptable, and my pulse sped because of it.
“Really? How can I take anything you do seriously?” The words flew out, almost in a whine. Almost in a cry.
“You don’t have to take it seriously, just take it.”
“Guys, please.” Mr. Kyle had started class and begun lecturing. He stared at Eric and me while I looked around and understood that everyone around us was quiet. I knew anyone looking could see anxiety in my face, but I couldn’t hide it. I looked to Eric with bewilderment.
Was he pranking me? Did he have some plan to expose me? As soon as Mr. Kyle turned his back to continue with his lecture, I leaned in to whisper. “What is your angle with this?”
He smiled. For once, not his typical smirk: a full-fledged smile. “No angle.”
“What’d you bring then?”
“I’ll give it to you when we leave.”
We both turned our attention to the front of the class, where Mr. Kyle was beginning to pass out the day’s assignment. We were to split the work up between the four of us, and compare answers at the end. Each of us in the group was silent as we started the assignment, even the giggle-twins. Then, after a while, Mr. Kyle’s attention had shifted from us. I figured I had waited enough.
“Just show me what it is then,” I whispered.
“Just wait. Until we finish,” he said, louder.
“Shhh. No, now,” I said.
He looked at me as if my curiosity was expected, though I had no idea why I wanted to see the thing so badly. Whatever it was, it couldn’t be good for Operation Avoid Observant Curious Charismatic Boys.
“No,” he said, shaking his head, and I gave up. But then, “Fine” came out with a smirk.
He looked almost nervous reaching into the front pocket of his bag to pull out the unknown object I was wrongly anticipating—not knowing what I wanted the surprise to be. The groups around us were starting to finish up, so the noise level in the room had increased again, giving us some privacy.
He placed it on the desk in front of me, a disc in a clear case. I held it in my hands and struggled to read the Sharpie-scribbled print on its face.
Before I could make it out, he said, “Peter Bradley Adams.”
I nodded as if I knew who that was. Why had he given this to me?
“He makes some good acoustic music.”
I was muzzled by his gesture. I couldn’t begin to understand him having given me a gift, even if I was holding it in my hands, which I was.
“My brother downloaded it a few days before he and his girlfriend broke up. Apparently she’s a fan. But anyways, I just thought someone ought to listen to it.”
“So you chose me?”
“I thought you might like to borrow it, since you’re an acoustic kind of girl and all.” He used air quotes as he said acoustic, and I remembered I’d told him that, that night in his car, right before he was supposed to leave me alone for good.
I swallowed down the feeling rising inside me, and managed, “Thanks” as I shoved the CD in my bag.
I pressed my eyelids together, then walked to Mr. Kyle’s desk to get a hall pass for the restroom where I could wait for the bell alone.
“Is everything all right?” Eric asked when I returned to the table to grab my bag.
“Yeah.”
No. Everything was not right. Everything sucked. My lies were all going to blow up in my face if I let him in, but every day I tried to handle things alone life got worse.
With determined steps, I walked out of the trailer and toward the school building. The wind had stayed strong during class, but instead of relaxing me like before, as I walked toward the bathrooms it proved to be an obstacle, an unnecessary force slowing me from reaching my temporary haven.
Why on earth would he do that? I’d only talked to the boy about me, the real me, for less than a minute, and he had listened. Not just listened, remembered, and brought me a damn gift. He hadn’t spoken to me all week, yet he still made me nervous every day. Why did my insides do cartwheels while he reached in his bag, and then freeze when he handed me the CD? Why on earth would God send me this curveball, before I even learned how to hit the fast pitch? It made no sense and with every question that terrorized my brain I became angrier, and more confused, until I was overwhelmed. My freak-out level was reaching overload, and before long every one of the emotions I felt would be spilling out of me.
I rushed into the building, turned left and darted into the girls’ restroom. On the way to a stall I passed a girl posing in the mirror. She had seen me, watery-eyed and miserable. I had let her see Ana in distress, and I was too broken and out of order to care.
In the stall, I threw my bag onto the hook as sour tears raced each other to escape from my eyes. I balled my hands into fists, attempting to silence my disgust. My body turned limp and I leaned on my bag and the door for support, stuffing my face into the creases in my book bag. I trembled as I gasped for air and waited for the feeling to diminish, muting my sobs by stuffing my face farther into the bag.
When I could breathe quietly enough, I grabbed some toilet paper and wiped my sodden cheeks, trying with all my energy to stop the last traces of the leak that had opene
d in my face.
Eventually, the tears did stop. And the bell rang as I dried the last of them.
I knew Ana couldn’t be seen walking the hallways with puffy, red eyes. So I rushed to the sink—the girl from before had thankfully left—and poured cold water through a paper towel before pressing it against my face. Mom’s old remedy. I regained composure, touched up my lip-gloss and fingered through my hair a few times before rushing to lunch.
If the girls noticed anything, I’d tell them that my old neighbor from back in California passed away and my mom just texted me the news. It was believable, and out of respect or caution they probably wouldn’t ask questions.
But they didn’t notice a thing; at least they didn’t mention it. I guessed I looked fine enough. We chatted through lunch like normal, and by the end of it I was even okay enough to face Eric again. After I dropped my tray off at the wash rack, I snuck away from the girls to interrupt his routine solitude.
“Hey,” I said, grabbing him by the arm when he walked past me as usual.
“Hey,” he replied.
“So when do you want it back? The CD I mean.”
“Oh, uh,” he thought for a moment, “I work tomorrow. I work at the daycare on King’s Street. You know where it is?”
“Yep.” It was the daycare in front of which I’d bribed a homeless woman to pretend to be my not-really aunt. Or maybe aunt. I still wasn’t sure.
“Okay, you think you could meet me there at seven tomorrow night?” he asked.
“That works.”
I turned away from him and hurried off, attempting to avoid another outburst from Sydney. Strangely though, I wasn’t too dismayed at the thought of meeting him again, soon, during the weekend. At least it was something to look forward to.
“Miss Smith.” The hearty voice of the man I had forgotten to constantly avoid sounded behind me. I turned to see his lightly bearded face scrunched with concern.
“Oh, hi Mr. Ludlowe.”
“How are you?”
“I’m good, and yourself?” I looked around to see if the students in the lunchroom were watching me. Only a few took notice as they dropped their lunch trays off to be cleaned.
“I’m doing well. I just spoke with Ms. Hawthorne.”
“Oh?” Why wouldn’t these people leave me alone?
“Yes, neither of us have had any contact with your parents, which is rare for a new student, and with both of our attempts to reach out to them we have yet to hear any response.”
“My mom’s just really busy,” I said. “I’ll tell her to give you guys a call.”
“Ana,” he said. “If we cannot get in contact with your mother or another legal guardian soon, we’re going to have a serious issue. If there is a problem, you should let us know. We can’t help if you don’t let us.”
“There’s nothing to help. I’ll make sure you guys get in contact. She’s just really busy.”
Mr. Ludlowe nodded, and smiled with pity.
“I have class,” I said. “Have a good one.”
“You as well,” he called from behind me as I passed him with my face too flustered to conceal. In the left corner of the room I saw Eric watching me, his headphones in his ear. By the door, the girls waited for me to join them.
“What was that about?” Kylie asked when I caught up with them.
“Nothing,” I said.
While the girls shared questioning glances, I walked past them, leaving their swarms of curiosity to fill the air behind me.
Chapter 12
I was on the way to a Radio Shack, a ten-minute walk from the gas station according to my GPS, to buy a handheld CD player. The Radio Shack was on the nicer side of town, and the sun’s rays tanned my skin as people jogged, and they walked dogs around me. There was smiling, laughing, and sweating.
It was supposed to be my time to think of a plan to throw Ludlowe and Hawthorne off my scent. While I walked, I hoped the decisions I was making for myself would lead me to live a normal life again one day. Smiling, laughing, and sweating like the people in the nice parts of Greensboro. Eventually I would go to college and be Sydney again, but a new, better one—maybe some mix of her and Ana. Eventually I would find a husband and have kids. I might just be healed enough to risk feeling things for people again.
But for now I was just Sydney-Ana, Ana-Sydney, trying to be Ana in public but still being Sydney inside. And I didn’t see a way out.
After a couple of wrong turns I bought the CD player, with plenty of time left to go home and listen to the CD before seven, when I was meeting Eric. More of my money drained at the register, and I glanced at the sign in the store window reading “NOW HIRING.”
If only I could get my dad’s consent for me to live alone. I could try to get a job, maybe. I could work under my real name, but tell everyone to call me Ana, tell them it was my middle name or something. But he would never do it. Could I forge an identity, a signature?
The weather had turned hot again, proof that nothing was working out right. Once fully comfortable, though too warm, on the blankets in the shack’s bedroom, I crossed my legs before securing the two free batteries into the CD player with my thumb. I popped the CD in, connected my headphones. And finally, with the heat of the shack weighing on me, I pressed play and let the sounds begin.
Guitar strings’ echoes and harmonies pulled me from the dull headache of worry I had carried for the past two weeks. I had no idea what was to become of me, and I almost didn’t want to return to school. I could start over? Think things through more this time? Start at another school?
Every note calmed my anxiety more and put my body at ease. I listened to the songs’ simplicity, their light nature. I listened for hours, inhaling their sounds, exhaling my life.
* * *
My eyelids lifted to silence and an uncomfortable lack of light in the room. Instinctively I checked my phone for the time. 6:55—shit. I was already late to meet Eric.
I launched myself from the bed and ran to my bag of clothes in the corner. My less-cute clothes got thrown about as I searched for something decent for the night. A plain red shirt and black jeans reigned victorious and I slid them over my body and flew to the mirror. I looked fine. A quick combing of my hands through my hair, and the auburn bob looked properly messy. I hurried back into the bedroom, grabbed the CD and my bag, slipped my black flip-flops in between my toes and rushed through the front door, barely remembering to close it.
I rushed every step—partly so I wouldn’t hold him up more, and partly so I wouldn’t have time to think. But I couldn’t help it. I wondered if he would still be there, or if he wouldn’t even be ready and I’d have to wait outside for him. I wondered if he would care in the least if I didn’t show up, if he wouldn’t care to wait for me at all.
My thoughts hushed immediately as I saw the daycare center ahead. The streaming line of thoughts must have propelled my legs to move more quickly than usual. The streetlights were on, making a couple of cars visible in the parking lot. I slowed my pace and scanned for Eric.
For a while I saw nothing. But when I scanned the parking lot more carefully, I noticed a shadow bustling around in the driver’s seat of one of the cars in the lot, a gray car I recognized. Eric stepped out and closed the door behind him before leaning back against it, waiting for me to reach him. So much for meet you halfway.
My heartbeat grew a bit louder with every step. Seeing his black hair cup the bottom of his chin, letting my eyes slide down the grooves in his neck, I wondered what it might feel like to touch his skin. The temperature, or the situation, caused droplets of sweat to form at the top of my forehead. I wiped them off with my left hand, and at last I reached where he stood, and let out the breath I’d been holding in.
“Hey.” He looked into my eyes when he said it. That smirk again.
“Hey,” I said. I reached into my bag and pulled out the CD and case. “Thanks so much, it was amazing.”
“You liked it?”
“Loved it, honestl
y.” I avoided his eyes when I spoke, and I ended up staring at the ground.
“Yeah, you know what, if you like it I don’t need it back. You should just keep it. We have all the songs on the computer anyway.” He handed the CD back to me.
I should have pushed it back toward him, but I took it. “You sure?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks.” I’d managed to move my eyes from the ground, but only to stare at the CD I was holding again.
“You didn’t drive?” he said, looking around me. “You walked here alone in the dark?”
“Yeah … um, no big deal.”
He tucked his hands in his pockets, watching me, waiting for me to do something.
“How was work?” I asked.
“Hot. I handle the lawn care.” He stood from his leaning stance on the car, and before I could step back, he was touching my chin with his right hand. I forced my eyes to stay down, but he lifted my face so I was forced to look at him. And once I was looking at him I couldn’t stop.
“Um … yes?” It came out soft, and weak.
“My brother doesn’t have a girlfriend.” He let his grip slide from my chin as his hand fell to his side.
“You got it just for me?” I asked, not sure what I wanted the answer to be. He leaned back onto his car, and slid a hand around mine.
“Another truce?”
Feeling him squeeze my hand, the emotion that flushed me sent me into panic.
He liked me. Everything he was doing was because he liked me. He was noticing everything I did, paying attention to my every word, going back on his promise to leave me alone, and buying me gifts. How had I missed it?
“I have to go now.” I pulled my hand behind my back, looked anywhere but at him. The feeling in my chest whenever he was around made him too dangerous.
“Yeah.” His voice was strong, yet I could hear it quiver. He shoved his own hand deep into the pocket of his black jeans. “Well let me take you.”