Sojourner

by Maria Rachel Hooley

  “I’d lost it, and he ran across it and was good enough to bring it to me.” I brush the hair from my face.

  “A strange thing for you to lose. Is it possible that he took it from you?” My body tenses, and I really dislike where he is going with this.

  “No, I lost it.”

  He nods. “Very well, Ms. Moon. I know you aren’t acquainted with the way of things around here, and sometimes Mr. Hauser feels a bit exempted from the rules. I just want you to understand that he is not above that, even if his father is a town selectman.”

  “Thank you.” Walking toward the cafeteria, I find that whole conversation more bizarre than even Griffin, which is really saying something. Shelly and her friends sit at the same table as yesterday, and they willingly move over so I can join them. As I sit, Shelly looks over at Griffin and smiles, shaking her head.

  “Gee, Griffin is still watching you, Lizzie. Big surprise.”

  And Lev is still absent, I muse, looking around the cafeteria, searching. Part of me wonders if it will be strange like this the whole year. Frustrated, I switch tactics and begin looking for Lev’s sister, Celia, but I don’t see her either, only Griffin’s consuming stare. Oh, and Gail’s antagonistic frown. More than once she touches his arm, an act of possession that any girl could figure out. Too bad she can’t get Griffin to pay attention to her. That would solve a whole lot of problems right now.

  My stomach rumbles, and since I haven’t grabbed a tray, as the memory of the spaghetti is too painful to try the hamburgers being served today, I rise and head to the salad bar, muttering, “Excuse me,” to my friends. Scanning the offerings, I grab the salad tongs and fill my plate with lettuce, tomatoes and pickles. I ration a bit of Ranch dressing over part of it, and as I whirl to return to my table, I almost bump into Griffin.

  “Such fabulous lunch plans could get a guy’s feelings hurt,” Griffin mutters, also grabbing a salad bowl even though it doesn’t seem like that would be his ideal meal. Most guys love burgers. Okay, maybe not these burgers.

  “They’re my friends,” I say, disinterestedly.

  “I could be your friend,” he mutters, scooting around the salad bar, his tone warm and inviting. “I could be a very good friend, actually.” He scoots closer. He’s clearly piled a bunch of veggies on his plate that he will probably never eat.

  “Sorry, Griffin, I’m not looking for that kind of friend.” Swallowing hard, I take a couple of steps away. I can feel Shelly, Bree, Matt, and Gail all staring. I just don’t have a clue what they are expecting. I’m still trying to figure that one out when someone tugs my arm, forcing me to turn.

  “I thought you might need this, considering how cold it is.” Celia stands there, my jacket in her hand. Smiling, she offers it to me.

  “Thanks.” I take the jacket, hating that Griffin is watching my every move. “Where did you come from?”

  “I was outside eating.” She starts to walk away.

  “Hey, Celia, where is Lev today?”

  “Doctor’s appointment.” She also stares at Griffin, her smile toward him not as pleasant. “He’ll be back this afternoon.”

  “Thanks.” She walks away, and I start to when Griffin blocks me.

  “So, let me guess. He was your real lunch plan. Shelly Roberts was just a contingency, wasn’t she?” His words are light enough, but their intention is clear. He’s trying to stake a claim on me.

  “It’s really none of your business, Griffin. I said I’d join you for lunch tomorrow.”

  His face turns pasty, and I see an anger smoldering beneath the surface. Probably by tomorrow he’ll be so furious he might not even want lunch with me. Here’s to hoping anyway.

  As I approach Shelly’s table, the girls burst into laughter. I’m not the only one who notices. Griffin scowls at them while returning to his own table. The moment he sits, he pushes the plate away and shakes his head. He sets one elbow on the table and leans his chin on his hand. The fluorescent light gleams off his senior class ring. Gail tries to take his arm, a comforting gesture, but he quickly pulls away, clearly agitated. Her face flushes and she gets up to dump her tray.

  “Looks like somebody is unhappy,” Bree comments, staring at Griffin. “I just don’t get you, Lizzie. There’s no male specimen more perfect than Griffin.”

  “Shoot me now, please.” Shelly shakes her head and throws a carrot at Bree. “If that is perfect, then I’m becoming a nun. Besides, I think Lizzie is waiting for someone else. A tall blond who is absent.” She turns to me, waiting. “What’s up between you and Lev?”

  “Nothing.” I shrug, my fingers immediately fumbling over the silverware. I look away, not wanting her to read my expression.

  “Really? That’s not what I hear. Word is that the two of you are becoming an item.” She grabs a celery stick and waves it at me. “So clue me in. What’s going on? And why did his sister have your coat?”

  “Nothing. Honestly. We’re just friends.” I stab a piece of lettuce and quickly begin eating, trying to distract myself from questions I can’t answer. I don’t know what’s going on between Lev and me in this life, let alone in my dreams. So I’m telling her the truth.

  Feeling her gaze, I can tell she doesn’t believe me. I probably wouldn’t believe me either. In the distance, Griffin watches me, too, the weight of his eyes stifling. So I focus on lunch and breathing. That should be enough to keep me out of trouble right now.

  “So,” Shelly says, taking the cap off her water bottle. “I was going to work on the Shakespeare project, and I wondered if you wanted to come over after school. Maybe we could work together and get it done?”

  “Sure.”

  The rest of the day blurs past without me seeing a hint of Lev. Although Celia said he would be returning, I don’t find him, no matter how hard I look. As I open my locker, I glance at his coat hanging there. The rest of the borrowed clothes are bagged up in my Jeep, ready to be returned. More than once I’ve smelled them, savoring the scent of his cologne. Shaking my head, I want to laugh because I don’t know any better than he does which side of the bipolar swing I’m going to wake up on, whether I will want to be near him or be afraid of him.

  Taking a deep breath, I grab the jacket, figuring I can always drive his stuff over. This time I will drive across the bridge instead of walking, that way I won’t have to worry about taking a winter swim just in case Lev has other plans rather than jumping in after me.

  I also grab my purse which I haven’t really looked through since Griffin gave it back. As I can’t really figure out what he was doing in the cemetery in the first place, the purse creeps me out. Was he following me? That’s the last thing I need.

  Closing my locker, I pull out my keys. As I stride toward the exit, Griffin sees me passing and matches my stride, joining me toward the exit.

  “So are we still on for tomorrow?”

  “Sure,” I say, half-holding my breath as I wait for divine intervention to save me. I am definitely not ready for lunch with Griffin, even if it is only 45 minutes.

  “So…why do you have Walker’s jacket? Are you two seeing each other?”

  I grit my teeth and speed up my steps which is futile because he does the same thing and he has much longer legs which means faster strides. Then he stops in front of me, cutting off my path.

  “Are you?”

  “No!” I snap, trying to push past him. “We’re just friends.” I manage to find a hole and slip around him. I walk even faster.

  “I keep telling you that I could be a good friend, Lizzie. A very good friend.” He stands in the middle of the hallway, waiting.

  “Try Gail,” I call. “I hear she’s definitely in the market for that kind of friend.” Unsure if he’ll come running after me, I pick up the pace even more, relieved that the exit looms ahead. Since he hasn’t caught up to me by the time I slip outside, I take a relieved breath and slow down, suddenly enchanted by the blanket of snow which has fallen during the day. I have been unaware of anything except Griffin�
�s all-consuming attention and Lev’s curious absence. The flakes still fall, fat globs of pristine white so thick it appears to be raining. The flakes tumble in my hair and across my face. Although I have both coats, I shrug into Lev’s, taking comfort in the way it swallows me. I wish he were here.

  Ahead, in the blanket of thick whiteness, I see kids throwing packed snowballs at each other and running around. The parking lot is no less a madhouse. More snowballs flying there. Around me, kids rush toward the whiteness, planning to join in the snowball fights. Griffin floats past and tugs my sleeve.

  “You want to play?” he asks, rushing for the snow. Both Matt and Gail flank him on either side. As usual, Gail is watching, gauging Griffin’s interest. She is the first to pick up snow and crush it into a tight ball that she zings at Griffin. He’s fast, I realize, as he jumps to the side and waves a chiding finger at her.

  “You’ve done it now!” Griffin reaches down and grabs a double handful of snow that he packs into his own large ball. Two seconds later he throws it at her. Gail sees it coming and turns her back just as the snow strikes. She squeals loudly and clumps another ball.

  A white pack comes flying at me, striking my chest. I jump. Looking down, I realize from Matt’s wicked grin, he has thrown it. I brush the snow away.

  “Hey, why don’t you leave it. It looks good on you. Besides, you don’t see this kind of snow in Texas. You might as well enjoy it.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” My hands are cold, and I shove them into the coat pockets, still mesmerized by the fights which continue until Mr. Williams, strides outside the school and yells for all the kids to head home. Although I’m not exactly guilty of playing in the snow, he turns his stern frown on me.

  “That includes you, Ms. Moon.”

  “Yeah, all right,” I mutter, realizing that he’s still not over Jimmie’s butt chewing. Still, the mirror has been cleaned as if no words were ever written there, so he’s made good on at least part of his promise to Jimmie. I don’t know if he’s figured out who wrote it or not.

  Mr. Williams gives me a warning glance then turns back to the kids who have finally quit throwing snow and head to their cars to drive home. Griffin gives me one last look. Then he turns toward the parking lot and heads off with Gail and Matt. I wonder if the three of them ever separate.

  Once most of the cars have pulled out, I head to the Jeep, grateful to be among the last ones so nobody is watching me. I hate being watched. Thrusting the keys into the door, I unlock it and climb inside, trying to get most of the snow off before I slip my feet in. I should have worn boots. Some snow has seeped into my shoes and melted. My hands are red and cold because I didn’t wear gloves. One of these days I’ll dress appropriately.

  I start the Jeep and shift to reverse when something thuds against my window. Jumping, I turn, expecting a snowball, not Lev. He motions for me to roll the window down.

  “What...what are you doing here?” I ask.

  “Keeping you out of trouble,” he pants, clearly having been running.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’ve got a flat, Elizabeth. Your back tire is shot.”

  “What?” I cut the engine and step out of the Jeep. Sure enough the tire is flat. “It was fine this morning.” I fold my arms across my chest, chilled.

  “Nice jacket.” He winks.

  “You should know. I have your other stuff in the Jeep.” Then we both turn back to the problem. I stare at the flat tire.

  “Why don’t you go inside while I change it, okay? You’ll be warmer there.”

  I start to argue, but judging from the way he pulls out the spare and starts working the jack, I think he’s more than got it covered without any help, or rather hindrance, from me.

  “Go,” he says, nudging me toward the school. “You just took a freezing swim last night. You don’t really need to be standing in the cold. I’ll come and get you.”

  “All right,” I say, heading to the school where I slip into the hallway and wait.

  “Didn’t I tell you to go home, Ms. Moon?” Mr. Williams’ deep voice takes me by surprise, and I turn to face him.

  “Yes, you did. But my Jeep has a flat. Lev Walker is outside changing it.” I point to where Lev is bent over, unscrewing the lug nuts on the ruined tire. “Once he gets done, I’ll go.”

  The principal steps to the window and peers at Lev for just a moment before nodding. “All right. Do you need to call Mr. Abram?”

  “No, it’ll be okay. Lev’ll be done in a minute.”

  Lev is switching the tires and starting to screw on the lug nuts to the spare tire. Hearing Mr. Williams’ dress shoes snap against the linoleum, I realize he’s leaving, and I lean against the glass, watching Lev’s fluid movements, his hand so sure and graceful. I swallow hard, enraptured by the golden beauty surrounding him like an aura. Once again the air shimmers around him, and I tell myself it’s the snow, but I’m not sure I believe it.

  Lev sets the ruined tire in the back of the Jeep and runs his hands along the outside until he finds the damaged spot. Frowning, he pushes it all the way in and closes the door. He walks toward the school, and I meet him halfway.

  “There’s good news and bad news,” he says, still frowning.

  “Okay, the good news is….”

  “The spare is solid and will last until you can get a new tire.” We turn and head toward the Jeep.

  “And the bad?”

  “It wasn’t a nail that ruined your tire. Somebody slashed it.”

  My feet stop as I imagine somebody jabbing a knife into the tire. I start shaking as I think about all the things Jimmie has warned me about in this town.

  “You okay?”

  “Yeah,” I finally say. “Just peachy.” It’s a lie; we both know it. “You want a lift?”

  “Nah.” He watches me get into the Jeep. “You should get home and talk to Jimmie about a new tire.”

  “Are you avoiding me?” It’s the million dollar question I’ve been waiting to ask. My breath catches and I force myself to start the vehicle.

  “What a silly question. I hardly know you well enough to avoid you.” Even as his words make me feel better, there is something in his eyes buried deep. “You, on the other hand, should definitely be avoiding Griffin Hauser.”

  “I’m trying. He’s like ABC gum stuck to my shoe.”

  “Interesting image,” he says, laughing. Then his expression turns somber again. “I know he seems charming, but he’s about as safe as a cobra, and the last thing you need near you is a pet snake, if you get my drift.”

  I nod. “Did you see him in the cemetery yesterday?”

  “No, why?”

  “He found my purse.”

  “It wouldn’t surprise me if he was following you. He doesn’t like the word no.” He gritted his teeth, his expression far away, probably settling on a memory about Griffin.

  “Griffin asked if we were going out.”

  Lev’s expression softened and he turned back to me, his eyes intently looking into mine. “And what did you tell him?”

  “That we were friends. Are we?” My voice sounds strained, desperate when I don’t want it to.

  “Elizabeth, there’s definitely something between us, but I don’t think I’m your best bet, okay. You don’t even know me.” His voice suddenly turns harder, as though there are so many things he isn’t saying. He grips the door tightly, probably just looking for something to keep his hands busy.

  “So tell me,” I whisper.

  “You’ll find out soon enough,” he promises, his voice rough from all the things he doesn’t say. Then Lev Walker turns away, heading toward the cemetery, leaving me more confused than ever.

  I glance at my watch and realize that I’m late going over to Shelly’s so I make two calls, one to my friend, telling her I’ll be right there, and one to Jimmie to let him know where I’m headed before I pull out of the lot.

  Like I said, I have a great sense of direction, and Shelly’s instructions a
re easy to follow. She lives in a house much like the one we’re at, and it’s easily just as dated inside. The color scheme is more earthy instead of optimistic butter yellow. As we pass through the kitchen during her grand tour, she asks, “Are you hungry?”

  “No.” It’s true enough. About an hour ago, I started feeling a wretched headache that I can’t shake, and it’s getting worse by the minute, it seems. I think I’ve had one migraine. This is building toward that so I’ll be really lucky to get through some of the project.

  Her room is more sedate than mine with white walls and stuffed animals lining a bay window seat. She’s got pictures everywhere, mostly of her family and Bree. A few with guys I don’t recognize.

  “So which project are you doing?” She sits with her legs crossed on the bed and leans against the head board where a poster of a cat in a large straw hat covers her wall.

  “The miniature Globe Theatre, I think.” I rub my left temple, kind of hoping that will drive the pain back. “Do you have any Tylenol? My head is pounding.”

  “Sure.” She leaves for a moment then returns with a glass of water and two pills.

  “Thanks.” I quickly take them and down the water.

  “I take it you’re pretty crazy about Lev?” She pulls out her English book.

  “That obvious?” I reply distractedly. For the first time I’m realizing just how cold I feel. Weird, considering we’re inside and all. Am I coming down sick?

  “Just a little.” She tilts her head sideways and grins at me. “What’s it like being….”

  “Being an Indian?”

  “Well, yeah. I’m not trying to be rude. I’m just curious.”

  I shrug. “I don’t really know. I was raised by Jimmie who is white, and every time I tried to connect with others like me, I never really fit in, so I gave up trying.” I know where she is going, and if the question came from somebody else, I might take offense, but I don’t think Shelly really has a mean bone in her body.

  “Are there lots more Indians in Dallas?”

  I laugh and shrug. “Not lots. We didn’t live in teepees in the middle of neighborhoods or anything.” Laughter thickens my voice.