“James?” Gavin knocks on the bay of lockers with the collar of his T-shirt tugged up over his nose. “How do you handle the stank of this place? It’s as if skunks sprayed themselves in Axe Body Spray and rolled in a tub of sweat. Thank God you don’t bring this smell back to our room.”
“You get used to it after the first year.”
“This is why I stick to my guitar. The next time I contemplate joining the soccer team, please drag me down here.”
“Their tryouts were four weeks ago.”
“It was never meant to be.” He presses his shoulder blades up against the locker. “So what’s up?”
“What do you mean?”
“You usually lead the team out of the locker room, especially on Fridays after a big win.”
“Not really feeling the movie tonight.”
“How come?”
I give him the look. We’ve had many discussions on this topic, and I’ve made him swear he’d never tell anyone.
“Oh no way! A horror flick!” Excitement blazes over his face like I’d just informed him he won a new guitar. “This is like the sweetest revenge for all the times I’ve had to sit through the comedy specials you binge-watch on Netflix.” He slams his fist into my shoulder.
My exhausted bicep stings in protest after Proctor nailed that exact same spot an hour earlier. “Ow.”
“Sorry. I thought that’s what guys did here.” He glances around the locker room and tugs his black leather jacket in tight. “What movie is it that has you by the balls?”
“Remember that trailer you showed me last year? The one with the guy in the black coat and the shaking camera?”
Gavin has never smiled so brightly. “You didn’t sleep for two nights.”
“It was creepy as hell, man.”
“Well, I’d offer to sit by you to hold your hand, but you have your girlfriend now, which is the other reason I decided to brave the stench in here. She’s been waiting on that stupid wall for ages, dude.”
My stomach drops. Time to add failure number two to the list. This is exactly why I’d suck at being a real boyfriend. “Seriously? You couldn’t have led off with that when you walked in here?”
“And miss you squirming like this? It’s a once in a lifetime opportunity. Anyway, don’t sweat it. She’s been out there working on that essay you helped me with last year. The one on Maya Angelou’s book?”
I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings. We had to take a different approach to his essay than I used with mine. It was a lot easier for me to feel the racism in verses that Gavin breezed through, barely considering their weight. Which reminds me not to wear my hoodie. Julie taught me the rules Dad never thought to consider the moment I moved in with her. No hoodies after sunset, tuck in your shirt when you go into town, pull your hands out of your pockets, and always make eye contact with the salesperson the moment you walk through the door and add an exaggerated smile.
I tug on my Brockmore blazer instead and stuff my team hoodie into my duffle. “Can you please do me a solid and bring my duffle up to our room? I don’t want her to have to wait for me again.”
“You assume no one is waiting for me?”
“The fact you’re standing with me here in the guys’ locker room screams that you’re single.”
“Screw you.” Gavin grins, but still he slings my duffle over his shoulder. “Prepare to wake up with a man in a black coat at your bedside tonight.”
“Dude, I’d have my hands around your throat before I even realized it was a joke.”
Gavin gulps. “Noted. So are you going to the movie tonight? It may be good for you to finally confront your fears.”
“Edelweiss is in the film club now. If she’ll be there, I’ll be there. Plus, Creighton plans to announce the results of the student council elections after the film. Anyone running for a spot has to show up.”
“You’ll get the gig. Now, don’t forget the girl.” Gavin nods toward the adjacent hallway where Edelweiss waits. “Good luck.”
Right. Walking Edelweiss to class felt easier today than earlier in the week. People have stopped staring at her, and she seemed a bit more relaxed about her hand being in mine. Today we had a real conversation about a ballet performance she saw once in Prague. For some reason, I told her about the dance school my mom started. For the first time, it didn’t feel taboo to talk about her.
Down the hall, Edelweiss sits with her knees tucked into her chest, scribbling on a notepad while using her toe to keep Maya Angelou’s book open.
“I’d call that dedication,” I say as I approach her.
“James.” She tucks her things away in her messenger bag and brushes off her butt after she stands up. “Sorry I didn’t notice when you came out,” she whispers, glancing around us like she expects a hidden camera.
“You’re sorry?” I can’t help but grin. Who is this girl? “If I ever make you wait this long again, I hope you put on a good show of being pissed off and leave.”
“Once the hallway emptied out, I didn’t mind so much. The quiet is nice, and I needed some extra time to work on my essay.”
“Still. Expect better from me, because I expect better of myself.” I reach out to take her hand as we walk, in case anyone sees us. When my skin brushes hers, it feels like I slammed an energy drink.
“Are you nervous about the council results?” I open the door, trying to use my body to block the cutting wind from stinging our faces on the way out.
“Yes.” She draws a strand of her blond hair behind her ear, revealing her slender jaw. She really is beautiful. Couldn’t have done better in the looks department for a fake girlfriend. “My parents want me to call them tonight to let them know how the election goes. Telling my parents—diplomats—that I couldn’t snag a place on the student council seems worse than telling them I’ve failed an exam.”
“You’ll get a spot. I heard a lot of people were going to vote for you.”
“Really?”
“Jordan and the guys in your grade talked about it at lunch.” My mouth dries a bit at the white lie. To my credit, they were talking about her, just not in relationship to student council and more in relationship to her butt. Thankfully, I already know we both snagged a spot on the council: it’s one of the few benefits of having Julie as my aunt.
I nod to the tech geeks sitting on the steps outside of the science building. Ainsley catches my eye from beneath her hoodie with that stupid e-cig tucked in between her lips. I give her a stern glare. She knows our grandpa died from lung cancer.
Edelweiss squeezes my hand. “Look!” She points to the movie poster taped to the door of the science building. “I can’t believe I’m finally getting to see Let Me Go! When they voted for my suggestion at the first film club meeting, I was shocked.”
“Wait.” I tug her to a halt. “This was your idea?”
She nods with a blazing smile, her blue eyes wide and sparkling.
“You like horror films?”
She drops my palm, bringing both hands to her heart with wide eyes. “I’m obsessed. Got hooked after accidently seeing The Exorcist when I was nine. Didn’t sleep for five days. Lately I’ve been on a classics kick, so The Shining is my current favorite. What’s yours?”
“That one.” I cough, nodding toward the dark lecture hall and the small popcorn stand at the entrance. There’s no way on earth anyone is getting me to watch The Shining. “Popcorn?”
“Sure.” She opens her purse, searching for what I can only imagine is her wallet.
“It’s free.” The freshman says from behind the cart as he hands over one large bag, slathered in butter. “Think of this place like an all-inclusive resort but replace the beach with textbooks and the lifeguards with teachers.”
“Thank you.”
I hand her the bag of popcorn and walk behind her into the lecture hall. Instantly, the sound of a horrific, chilling wind sends a shiver up my spine.
Freaking horror movies ruin everything. Even wind ends up with a bad rap.
“You okay?” she asks.
“A little cold.”
“Do you want my sweater?” She eyes me.
“I’m pretty sure your sweater wouldn’t have fit me when I was twelve. Even if it did fit, I’ll never be caught dead taking a sweater from my girlfriend. Up this way,” I whisper as we head into the dark.
I make my way up the steps toward the back seats, away from the prying eyes of Emma, who’s sitting in the middle with her underclassman groupies. My phone buzzes the moment my ass hits the plush seat.
Gavin: You’ve only missed about three minutes. They had technical problems.
Ugh. Should have hung out longer in the locker room.
This guy is running with a loaded gun, away from Central Park. That’s all you need to know.
Brilliant.
For ten minutes this dimwit bumbles around New York City, and every time he turns a corner, I have to drop my eyes from the screen to focus on the oak desk at the front of the lecture hall.
My hands grip the side of my chair when the creepier music begins to fade in. This is where it happens, where the guy steps out in the coat and is propelled ninety miles an hour toward the camera like they showed on the preview. I recognize the pile of trash in the back of the scene from the trailer.
“You okay?” Edelweiss whispers.
I nod, trying to stay cool. It’s only a movie and—AHHH!
My ass literally flies off my seat while this flying dude’s pupils dilate gray and zoom toward me.
A warm hand settles on the back of mine. “James?”
I nod to her.
“Okay.” She pulls her soft palm away, and its absence burns. The torturous windy whistle starts again, his theme song, and I know the next time I see that black coat I’m going to scream bloody murder like all the freshmen down front. I reach over, carefully placing her hand on mine again.
“Just…” My heart’s in my throat. Words aren’t an option anymore. I give her hand a firm squeeze. Stay.
“How about I keep this here in case anyone’s looking?” She flips my hand over, intertwining my fingers in hers. As she does, the energy I felt on the way in returns, and I’m tossed into turmoil. This shouldn’t feel so good, especially when I’m watching a movie about a possessed shooter.
The energy takes my focus off the movie and onto Edel. She’s leaning back in her seat with a relaxed grin like she’s watching The Sound of Music or something. Who is this girl?
The movie draws on for another seventy-one minutes. Seventy-one minutes of concentrating on how our hands fit together perfectly.
It’s just me, the sound of that chilling wind-blowing-through theme music, and Edel’s hand, never shifting, always constant.
“It’s over,” she whispers just in time for me to open my eyes before the lights turn on.
I survey the room and almost everyone sits shocked, staring at the blank screen in utter silence.
Julie rushes to the podium. “Oh my. I thought, since it was rated PG-13, it wouldn’t be so…”
“Awesome?” Proctor shouts. “Top horror film of last year, baby!”
A few girls in the front row squeal at the sound of a door opening, triggering the soccer team to climb over their seats, whistling that awful wind sound behind the girls’ ears.
And just that like I know exactly what to do for the senior prank.
“Oh, come on. Y’all need to get a grip.” Proctor laughs, tossing his crumpled-up bag of popcorn at those girls down front.
“John Proctor, please sit down.”
“How about next Friday I’ll make it up to you with a Toy Story marathon?” Julie offers the room, and I swear I know exactly what’s scrolling through her brain. Please do not tell your parents we screened this.
The room cheers. No one is going to complain about Woody and Buzz. Freaking heroes! The first time I watched the scene where they sneak off to Bonnie’s house was the day I understood what a therapeutic cry was all about.
“Well.” Creighton straightens her skirt. “How about a little happy news? The results of the student council election are in.”
Literally everyone in the hall but Edelweiss groans. One guy even hops out of his seat and bolts out the exit.
“Why are they groaning?” Edelweiss shifts to the edge of her chair.
“They’re tired.” There’s no way I have the heart to tell her that the school views the council as a complete joke, not after watching her toil over the election all week.
Creighton reads off the new members from youngest to oldest. Edelweiss’s hand turns white, clenching mine while Creighton reads the junior class reps. When her name is called, she squeals.
“Told you.” I move aside so she can climb past me, and as she does, I can’t help but notice her butt. Damn.
She skips down the stairs to the front of the room to join the other reps. A few minutes later, I join her. Creighton introduces the officers, and my jaw drops open when she announces Gavin as student council president.
He crawls out of the front row, standing next to me while Creighton closes off the night. The moment she steps away from the podium, I lean into his shoulder. “I didn’t see your name on the ballot.”
“No one else wanted the job, so it was uncontested. Figured if I was going to be waking you up for meetings I may as well drag my own ass out of bed and amp up my résumé.”
“You’re saving me, man, you know that?” I’d told him about the council being my punishment, but I never in a million years thought he’d join.
“So, how was the movie?” Gavin grins, leaning up against the empty podium. “Going to survive the night?”
I glance over at Edelweiss, who’s chatting with Tuti and Jordan in the front row. She catches my eye, her blue eyes connecting deep with my own. Her head shifts a millimeter, and she lifts an eyebrow. Something in me shifts, almost like a missing piece moves into place. There’s something about Edel that feels more constant than anyone I’ve ever known. Like she’s in this with me, even during horror movies. My shoulders suddenly feel light.
“It was no big deal.” I slap Gavin on the shoulder. “Turns out it’s a lot easier to watch a horror movie when you have a fearless girlfriend.”
Chapter Eleven
Edelweiss
“Ms. Lee?” Mr. Tate pulls down his spectacles, sneering. “I do appreciate that you aren’t answering your phone in class, but by all means spare us its constant vibration. It’s like trying to speak over a toy motorboat.”
“You’re giving her permission to answer texts in class?” Emma’s voice carries down from the back row.
“Ms. Brown, do you think I’m unaware that you’ve been Snapchatting all hour?” Mr. Tate replaces his bifocals. “Whether or not you guys understand this content is on your shoulders. I get paid either way. Now, what was I saying about covalent bonds?”
I can’t help but smile while I sneak my phone out from under my book. Hearing Emma get burned feels so good. After one week, Mr. Tate has proved to be my favorite teacher. He uses an ancient overhead projector, and his scribbles are barely legible, which I’m beginning to suspect is a sly trick to focus our attention. Unlike the English and history departments, Mr. Tate has yet to make us break into small groups to discuss the material. Thank goodness. Sitting in a circle and being forced to share is brutal. No one actually shares what they’re thinking. Instead people spout out what they think the teacher wants to hear, or if the teacher isn’t within hearing distance, they try to one-up each other. A complete waste of time, but I guess it allows me to check the whole group discussion experience off my list.
When Mr. Tate isn’t looking, I glance down at my phone, expecting yet another text from my mom about James. She’s been teasing me since I told her about us earlier this week. It’s like her new hobby. In her last text, she sent a link to this gaudy his-and-her necklace set that she found on Etsy, offering to get us a pair for Christmas. I swear I could hear her laughter through her deadpan text.
&nbs
p; A wave of relief rolls over my shoulders when I see the text is actually from James. He’s sent a photo of a guy walking down the street in a black trench coat.
Nearly died on the way back to Brockmore! Where were you when I needed you most?
Needed me? The idea takes root like a light tickle.
Learning about covalent bonds. Didn’t you have Calc II this afternoon?
The bell from the English building’s tower rings; the tone is warm and rocking. Mr. Tate drops his marker midsentence, like he’s more desperate to leave the classroom than we are. “Get out of here,” he barks.
Jordan stands up in the row in front of me and cranks his head around to catch Tuti on her way out. “Tuti.” He shakes his head. “I think I’m going to have to hire you to tutor me in chemistry too. That went way over my head.”
Tutor. So that’s what he calls it. Those two steal away with each other at any free moment, yet they never touch.
Tuti tucks her iPad into her bag, her long thick lashes beating fast. “Jordan, I swear you are stupid on purpose.”
“Me? No.” Jordan winks at me the moment Tuti turns her back. She’s so hot! Help me! he mouths.
“Actually, Tuti, I was about to ask you the same thing. It was a bit over my head too,” I offer.
“This is my worst subject, you guys. You don’t want my help.”
“Ah, but you’re brilliant, Tuti. You at your worst is still better than my best. Come on, explain it to me over dinner.”
“Fine.” She groans. “Do you want to join us?”
“No, thanks. I think I’m meeting up with James tonight.” My phone buzzes again.
Ms. Jennison was ill so I popped into town to get us dinner. Meet me in the library?
When I glance up from reading the text, Tuti and Jordan are already on their way out of the lecture hall. The more I get to know Tuti, the more puzzled I become over whatever she’s got going on with Jordan. She’s an expert at dodging the subject. It’s getting a little annoying being left in the dark, because clearly those two have something between them. But who am I to talk? James and I may appear linked at the hip, but the moment we get behind closed doors, he drops my hand and we put some major space between us.
It Had to Be You Page 9