Continuum

by Susan Wu

  The Johnsons’ dog next door starts barking which means Mr. Johnson is pulling into their driveway. It must be past seven. I try to shake off my daze and walk over to the window, pushing aside the curtain. The full moon is looming in the inky sky, it seems so close tonight. The pale moonlight washing over me, I close my eyes and for a moment I see Ethan’s blue eyes and the light I feel when he looks at me. I let go of the curtain and the room is dark again.

  To distract myself from going completely over the edge, I try to get into my nightly routine. Tackling my homework first, I pull out my Calculus book and balance it on my lap with a notebook and graphing calculator, a pencil in my hands. No matter how hard I concentrate, I can't seem to focus on the equations. My mind is continuously wandering and my pencil is mindlessly going over the blank page of the notebook. When I look down, I'm surprised to see I've drawn a pair of hands. Ethan's graceful hands. I carefully shred the page into a hundred pieces.

  Ethan

  I don’t know if I should follow or stay put as Fallon takes off down the street. Girls are impossible to understand. I swear we don’t even speak the same language. I can’t seem to get Mackenzie to give me any breathing room and Fallon will barely look at me. Then she runs away whenever I try to talk to her.

  My phone vibrates in the pocket of my jeans. A text from Sam:

  SOS! Going to fail bio. Again. Liam and i need ur help with test!!!

  This was my first time taking Biology but Sam and Liam were both re-taking the class after failing it last year. Even though this was both their second time around taking Biology, they leaned heavily on me. Between football, soccer, track, and the other extra circulars they were in, Biology ranked somewhere between going to the mall with your mom and bringing your kid brother along on your date.

  They were both scraping by with a low C, but there was a major exam scheduled for tomorrow and it was worth a third of the semester grade. They couldn’t afford to fall below a C or they would risk getting kicked off the football team.

  I type my reply: Where r u guys studying?

  My phone buzzes in quick succession, Sam’s rapid fire replies coming through.

  My house. I can swing by n pick u up at 4ish.

  Picking up pizza from fat tonys. Need brain food.

  Thx a mil!! Owe u 1.

  It is now nearly five. Two empty pizza boxes are stacked on one end of Sam’s dining table. Strewn across the rest of the table are old labs and my notes from the semester so far. Liam and Sam are looking over my notes with looks of utter despair on their faces.

  “Tell me why didn’t we do this in summer school?” Liam says, shuffling through pages without stopping to read them.

  “Ha! And try to learn all this crap in eight weeks?” Sam replies, spreading his arms across the cluttered table.

  “Who cares about--” Liam reads off a random page of notes-- “biological classification? When am I ever going to need to know that?”

  “Come on guys. It’s not so bad. You can memorize it using a mnemonic device. King Phillip came over for great sex. Kingdom, phylum, class, order, family, genus, species.”

  Sam bursts into laughter, “What?! Did you make that up just now?”

  “No,” I reply, rolling my eyes, “if you guys paid attention to once in a while, you might actually learn something.”

  We spend the rest of the evening assembling note cards and drilling each other. Finally around eight, Sam pushes the biology book away from him, “Ugh, I need to stop for a minute. My brain is going to break.”

  Liam lays his head on the table in agreement, his voice muffled by his arm as he groans out, “No more Biology.”

  Standing up and stretching his arms, Sam says casually, “So, Ethan. You’re taking Mackenzie to Homecoming as your first date. Have you lost your mind?”

  “We’re going as friends. It’s just a dance,” I reply in as indifferent a tone as I can muster.

  Liam’s head comes up from the table, suddenly interested in the conversation at hand, “Dude, I don’t get it. You’re going to Homecoming with the hottest girl at Everest Heights and you’re acting like you don’t even care??”

  “I had someone else in mind.” I think of Fallon leaving me on the sidewalk earlier this afternoon. “But it didn’t work out.”

  “WHO?” They ask in unison. I swear these two were worse than the girls when it came to gossip.

  I shake my head sternly, “Nope, definitely not going there.”

  Liam starts rattling off girls in our class, “Emma, Sophia, Chloe, Redheaded Chloe, Ditzy Heather, Smart Heather, Blonde Liz, Brunette Liz, Brunette Julie, Twin Julie. Her sister, Emily?” He pauses to take a breath and then his eyes get wide, “OH MY GOD. PLEASE TELL ME IT’S NOT FALLON PIERCE.”

  “What?! I... barely know... I... How could... I mean--” I am stuttering and my face is steadily heating up. “It’s Fallon Pierce. I’m sorry, Sam.”

  Sam shrugs, “No water off my back. Like I said before, Fallon and I are only friends. But now I understand why she was so upset this morning.”

  “You saw her this morning?”

  “Yeah, I was in the library for my tutoring session. She ran past me and she was being all weird and un-Fallonlike, so I followed her. She looked pretty upset.”

  “Why was she upset?”

  He shrugs, “No idea. I didn’t ask. Not that she would tell anyone. I’ve known Fallon for a long time but I don’t pretend to know the first thing about that girl. She’s as complicated as she is beautiful.”

  Fallon

  It has become a challenge to come up with creative ways to avoid Ethan. In such a small school, it is nearly impossible to avoid anyone. I have to time my entrance to first period so that I slip into European History with seconds to spare before the first period bell. Not bothering to even put books away, I bolt out of English class the second the bell sounds, lest I run into Ethan on his way in.

  I even go as far as skipping lunch and enduring seven classes in a row, attending 7th period Psychology unbeknownst to the rotation of substitutes. I manage to skip nearly two weeks' worth of Psychology classes with Ethan before a savvy substitute realizes I am attending the wrong session.

  Today, I can avoid him no longer. Feeling anxious throughout French class, I bolt out the door the second the bell rings. I slip out through an unattended side door and follow a familiar path into the woods. The path is now strewn with colorful fall foliage, damp from this morning's brief rain. Abruptly, I realize I am not alone. I spot his bag and jacket before I see him sitting alone inside a grove of trees. Ethan is turned away from me and he is so focused on the trees, he doesn't hear my approach. I quietly position myself next to an ancient oak tree, camouflaging myself in the shadow of its massive canopy of branches. For the first time, I can study Ethan freely.

  The sunlight filtering through the trees dance in his hair, making it golden brown. A lock of hair falls over into his brilliant blue eyes making him look alluring but all the more unattainable. Held between his perfect teeth dangles a chewed up, standard number 2 pencil. His shoulders are hunched over a black leather sketchbook balanced on his lap, sheets of paper spilling out of its overstuffed pages.

  He holds his fingers out in front of him, measuring the distance between the branches before taking the pencil out of his mouth. It moves swiftly over the page, making the lightest contact with the textured surface of the paper. His brow is furrowed in concentration as he measures the distance between the trees with his outstretched hand. Holding up his sketchbook, he tilts his head and exams the silhouette on the page against the backdrop of the silhouette in sky. Tracing the tops of the trees with his fingers, he makes more swift strokes with his pencil.

  In the distance, the bell rings signaling the end of the period. I hear his quiet sigh as he carefully closes his sketchbook. His gaze stays fixed on the contours of the treetops. Then in one quick, liquid movement, Ethan jumps onto his feet and turns around to gather his bag and jacket. I press deeper into the shad
ows of my tree. As he straightens back up, his expression changes from relaxed to suddenly alert.

  Did he see me lose my footing on the snarl of roots at the base of the tree? His eyes try to penetrate the darkness. I don’t dare let out a single breath and every muscle in my body locks down as those blue eyes search the trees. I am convinced the thunderous pounding in my chest will expose me.

  The shrill ringing of the second bell carries through the forest and his head snaps toward the school. He glances over once more before hesitantly turning away from where I am standing and heads back toward the school. As soon as he is out of sight, my legs give out and I sink to the ground. A slow, shuddering breath fills my lungs and the oxygen helps clear my head, at least partially.

  Even as my breathing returns to normal, there is a hollow feeling in my chest. I feel stupid for letting myself get caught up in this boy. I feel stupid for almost exposing the fact that I was caught up in him. I feel stupid because I just can't seem to resist whatever it is that I find so appealing. I can't help but feel like they are the emotions of a stranger. What am I going to do with myself?

  I stare into the empty grove of trees and Ethan invades my thoughts. The clarity of his blue eyes, always so inquisitive when he spoke to me. The mischievous smile framed by two perfect dimples. The way his elegant hands worked with such precision. I close my eyes, willing myself to stop thinking of him. It was a pointless exercise of longing for what I couldn't have. We can’t always have what we want, after all.

  As I contemplate my dilemma, a drop of water lands on my shoulder followed by another drop and another in quick succession. I look up as the sky splits open, I am drenched within a minute but I stay where I am, letting the rain wash over me. There is a burning in my chest. The dream. I stay sitting in the rain for a long time. For the first time, I feel lonely.

  My wet jacket is hanging in my locker and my hoody is still damp as I walk into last period Psychology as the second bell rings. The substitute is handing out a reading passage and a worksheet. Ethan is sitting by himself toward the back of the classroom next to the bank of windows. He looks lost in thought as he watches the rain fall steadily.

  No need to prolong the awkwardness. I walk silently down the row of desks and set down my bag and take my usual seat behind Ethan. He doesn’t glance away from the window, but I know he can see my reflection in the window. His lips barely move as he speaks to me, “I thought you dropped Psych. Or more accurately, I thought you dropped off the face of the planet. What's with the disappearing act?” My heart clenches at the sound of his voice, it’s much richer in person than the way it sounds in my head.

  “I've been, uhm, busy,” I reply while flipping through the pages of my Psychology book. I don’t know why I’m doing this to myself.

  “Well, I'm glad you found time to join us today, Fallon,” he says finally turning around, the corner of his mouth lifted. I had almost forgotten how blue his eyes were.

  Jacket on and books stashed away, Ethan waits patiently at the classroom door as I drag my feet in another feeble attempt to elude another awkward walk home with him. Undeterred, he walks me to my locker and after a brief stop to grab my books and jacket, we walk out of the building together. The sidewalk is slick with rain and it is still misting lightly outside.

  “So, Mackenzie managed to trick me into going to one of those intimate gatherings,” his affectation of her smug, superior tone mixed with a hint of faux British brings a smile to my face that I quickly suppress. “She keeps crashing on us every time I try to work on the English midterm with Emma. We have hardly gotten any work done because Emma only jabbers about how amazing Mackenzie is during class. So I went over to her house last week under the impression that we were finally going to work on our Shakespeare presentation. But when I showed up, Mackenzie and all her goonies were waiting for me.”

  I suppress the urge to roll my eyes, “Your life must be very difficult. It must be so hard to every girl at Everest Heights fighting for your attention.”

  “Not every girl,” he mutters quietly. Changing his tone, he continues, “I've been walking to school, trying to catch you after Psych so I can walk you home. I wanted to try and get a better understanding of what you meant when you said you were different than other girls. I see how people regard you... It must be difficult to be gifted.”

  “I’m not gifted.”

  He ignores my response, “But you've been like a ghost. Every time I catch a glimpse of you, you melt into the air. What gives?”

  He’s so persistent and I’m such a terrible liar, but I still try to stumble through my lame excuse, “I, uhh, I needed... to get home early so I had my schedule temporarily rearranged...” I finish thinly, “for, uhm, SAT tutoring.”

  “Really? You need SAT tutoring? You can solve a Rubiks cube in 37 seconds. You quote Shakespeare. And I’m pretty sure you have our European History book memorized. God help us if you need SAT tutoring.”

  My fingers twist together in front of me and I avoiding looking directly in his eyes, “I get test anxiety.”

  “Well, I’m glad you’re back to regularly scheduled programming, Fallon. Would it okay if I walk home with you? I’m heading that way anyway, I have to stop by the hardware store to pick up something for my mom. I know it didn’t go so well the last time when I invited myself...” It’s his turn to turn away but he peeks at me from the corner of his eye, almost looking hopeful.

  The air seems to leave my lungs for a moment. I take a deep, slow breath before I respond, “It's your choice. I can't promise I'll be very good company.”

  “At least you're honest about who you are,” Ethan responds cheerfully, throwing his hands in the air for emphasis. “The people at this school. I've been hiding out in the art room during 7th period.”

  I raise my eyebrows in surprise and respond dryly, “Don’t you have your gaggle of girls to sit with during lunch?”

  He wrinkles his nose in distaste, “Sitting at that lunch table with those girls is excruciating. They have nothing nice to say about anyone but the people at their table. And they talk about the same things over and over again.”

  Distracting myself, I play with the strap of my book bag, curling the nylon strip around my fingers. “That's high school though isn't it? When you showed up, you were the hot topic. Ethan Hayes, new kid. People were talking about you everywhere I turned. There aren't new and exciting things happening all the time. Especially at Everest, where everyone has known everyone since birth.”

  “No one seems to know much about you.”

  I clear my throat, feeling awkward once again, “If you couldn’t tell, I’m not exactly popular. I prefer to melt into the background.”

  Ethan stops mid-stride and turns to look down at me, “People notice you more than you think.”

  Instantly, I feel my face turn scarlet. I look away without responding and stride past him, he quickly catches up continuing his thought, “I guess I'm not used to this stereotypical high school setting with cliques and jocks and mean girls. I haven't spent much time in a small setting like this. I started at a performing arts high school in New York, then a boarding school in Connecticut, and last year, I was at a prep school in California.”

  “Don't worry, it's a quick study. Once you figure out the algorithm, high school becomes very predictable. Then you'll know exactly where you fit in and how to act within the normal spectrum of expected behaviors.”

  He tilts his head, a skeptical expression on his face. “Really, it's that simple? And where do you fit in, Fallon Pierce?”

  I can’t help but smile this time, “I am outside of the equation.”

  “Of course. I’m not sure about your theory. Thoughts, feelings... They can’t be reduced to equations. Not everything can be logical.”

  Like how I feel about you. “True. But most of the time, people behave exactly what you expect them to.”

  His replies dryly, “Then it makes sense you’re not part of the equation.”

  I cri
nge, “Sorry. I’m that bad, huh?”

  He looks at me pointedly, “Part of the reason, I’ve been hiding out in the art room is because I was hoping to spend some more time with you. You were a lot more open when we were alone in the studio. I peeked at your latest drawing by the way. You've made a lot of progress. What period is it from? Gothic?”

  My head is spinning and my tongue feels like lead in my mouth, I try to guide the conversation away from my disappearing act, “Romanesque, actually.”

  “They're really quite exquisite. I don’t peg the folks of Everest Heights to be Medieval design and architecture buffs. Why did you choose them?”

  “First and foremost, they’re very beautiful... When it comes to my subject matter, I’m drawn to contrast. Since the building's structure and facade are so elaborate, you really have to pay attention to the shadows to appreciate the details. The haunting beauty coming out of the darkness.” Ethan’s smile is thoughtful as he takes in my response.

  Looking up, I realize we are already on my block. The walk has gone by too quickly. There's an awkward moment as we stand in my driveway. “Well this is my stop. Thanks for walking me home.” I start making my way to the front porch but Ethan stops me.

  “Wait a sec.” There he goes again with that intense gaze that makes my insides liquify. “I’m not going to give up trying to be your friend. I like talking to you, Fallon. You're not like other girls.”

  If he only really knew.

  The next morning, I resume my normal schedule. I arrive a few minutes before the bell, Ethan is waiting at my table in the cafeteria. I toss my book bag onto the table. “How long are you going to keep this up, Ethan?”