The Tension of Opposites

by Kristina McBride

  “It’s perfect,” Elle said. “I mean, before this, I didn’t think much about the future. It’s like I have to retrain my brain or something, to think ahead more than a few days.”

  I flipped through the last pages of the notebook, all of them blank and clear of pain. “You should fill the rest of the pages with things you want to do.”

  “Yeah.” Elle grabbed the notebook and plucked the pen from the seat of the bench. “Like going to prom. And graduating.” She scribbled the words on the blank lines below Falling in love.

  “Making it into Ohio State,” I offered.

  “How could I have forgotten that one?” Elle’s hand moved furiously fast. “Living in my very own apartment. Getting engaged.”

  I leaned back against the bench, watching as Elle remembered all of her dreams, the dimple in her left cheek coming to life once again. And like her, for the first time in a long time, I started to think about what was important to me.

  Sunday,

  March 14

  26

  The Snow Globe

  I tripped over a root half buried in the muddy trail, sprawling my arms in the air to steady myself. Grandpa Lou’s camera, which was slung over my shoulder, slammed into my back. I wanted to scream. Not from pain, but from overwhelming frustration.

  I knew he was there. Somewhere. His car was in the parking lot. And when I’d placed my hand on the hood of the Mustang, it had been warm to the touch. My breath became all shaky in that moment, as I listened to the popping sound of the settling engine, thinking about what I had to do.

  But he wasn’t at the Three Sisters.

  And his phone was going straight to voice mail.

  My thighs burned as I fought my way up a steep hill, away from the bubbling stream that ran through the lower section of the nature reserve. My breath came in huffs, and I couldn’t seem to suck in enough air. I paused against the rough bark of a tree at the top of the hill, feeling drops of sweat trickle down the back of my neck. Birds chirped overhead, and I wished I could have their view for even a few minutes. Maybe that way I could find him.

  As I waited for my breathing to become more even and controlled, I noticed the entrance to a clearing ten feet away. Through thick branches, I saw the fluttering pinkish white blossoms of several cherry trees. I almost walked past them, but when I reached the grassy path to the clearing and a large gust of wind blew through, tossing handfuls of petals into the wind, I couldn’t stop myself from entering.

  And when I saw what was in the center of that whirlwind, I actually laughed out loud.

  He turned to face me as I pressed the viewfinder to my eye. He looked confused, the wrinkles creasing his forehead muted by a passing cloud.

  “Hey,” I said.

  He flashed me a half smile. “You scared me,” he said, pushing a wave of curls from his face.

  I pressed the shutter-release button and caught him as he looked at me.

  “You get some good shots?” I asked, lowering my camera and taking a few steps toward him.

  “I hope so,” he said, looking up at the white blossoms.

  Another gust of wind burst through the trees, curling up the perimeter of the clearing, whisking hundreds of delicate petals into the air. They dipped and flipped like large flakes of snow.

  “It feels like we’re in a snow globe,” I said, flinging my hands out in the air and swirling in a slow circle. When I stopped, I noticed he hadn’t moved. Not one step toward me. Not one step away. “Am I freaking you out or something?”

  He pressed his lips together in a way that made me think he was trying not to smile. “Why?”

  “I dunno,” I said. “Something about your eyes.”

  He shook his head. “That’s about this girl.”

  I took three steps toward him. “Oh, yeah?”

  He nodded. “She kind of broke my heart.”

  “Sounds awful.”

  Max sat on the ground, on the blanket of petals that covered the grass, and placed his camera next to him. “It was.”

  I walked toward him, pulling the strap of my camera over my head. “You seem pretty nice and all.”

  He shrugged. “I like to think so.”

  I sat next to him, put my camera right next to his, and stretched out my legs. “Wanna tell me what happened?”

  He raised his eyebrows and splayed his hands in the air. “She blew me off for her friend.”

  “Maybe,” I said, squeezing his knee, “her friend needed her.”

  He tucked a curl behind his ear and nodded. “She did.”

  “So … you’d forgive her?” I asked. “If she apologized?”

  “Dunno,” he said, looking at me.

  I placed a hand on his cheek, feeling the stubble on his skin. “I’m really sorry.”

  He smiled, the lines around his mouth marking the humor he found in the moment. “Good.”

  “Good?” I pulled my hand away and lay back on the grass. “That’s a little harsh, isn’t it?”

  Max lay on his back, the heat from his body radiating toward me, reminding me of that night in his room when our skin touching had practically melted us into one. I was dizzy with the need to feel him like that again.

  “No more harsh than all the times you chose her over me.” There was no anger or accusation in his voice. Just simple honesty.

  Above, the petals swirled in the air, falling lazily around us, fluttering across our bodies.

  “Okay,” I said. “That’s fair.”

  “You think you can stop?”

  “What?” I turned my head, taking in the familiar curves of his profile with my eyes.

  “Putting her first.”

  “It’s not a competition,” I said with a sigh. “She’s my best friend.”

  “I’m not talking about putting her before me.” Max turned his head. Our noses were inches apart. “I’m talking about how you always put her before yourself.”

  I closed my eyes. Wished that I could snap my fingers and let it go. “I can try,” I said.

  And then his hand was on my cheek, his thumb tracing the line of my lower lip. I inched forward, and our mouths found each other, pressing together with the heat and desire that I had been craving since he’d walked away from me that night at the party.

  And I wanted him.

  All of him.

  And I knew, as the silky petals twisted into our hair and our bodies pressed against each other, that I wouldn’t let him go again.

  Saturday,

  March 27

  27

  Bare Feet

  “Are you coming?” I asked, my cell phone pressed against my face.

  “You’re already there?” Elle sounded surprised.

  “Um, yeah.” I pulled at Max’s arm and gently twisted his wrist, checking his watch. “I said seven. It’s seven fifteen.”

  Max raised his eyebrows. Mouthed, Is she coming?

  I shrugged. She better.

  “I’m almost ready.” Elle’s words came out shaky, and I pictured her running down her steps.

  “Well, hurry. The light’s almost perfect.” I glanced at three boys walking down the street. They carried a baseball bat and two gloves. One threw a ball up in the air and caught it over and over. “And this is my only chance.”

  “Okay, okay. Geesh!”

  I flipped the phone shut and looked at Max, who was facing away from me, pointing a digital camera toward the crystal plume of the fountain. The water glowed in the soft light of the setting sun.

  I took several steps toward Max, my bare feet sinking into the cool grass, and placed my hands on his shoulders.

  “Will it work?” I asked.

  “If you two sit right where I put your flip-flops, it should line up just like you want.”

  “Cool.” I turned and looked past the leafy limbs of the sweet gum to find Elle rounding the corner of her street and heading toward the park.

  I was so surprised to see her riding a bike it kind of knocked the breath out of me. It wasn�
�t that she was on the red Schwinn I found deserted all those years ago. But still. Elle and a bike just didn’t go together. Not anymore.

  “Why are you staring like that?” Elle asked as she rode up and hopped off the seat of the bike, her hair swinging from one shoulder to the other.

  “I-I’m just surprised you got here so fast,” I stammered.

  Elle lowered the kickstand and let go of the handlebars. She turned into the fading sunlight, a burnt-orange tint washing over her face. “No freaking way,” she said, ducking behind me. “He must’ve sprinted the whole way.”

  Max put his hand above his eyes, shielding them from the sun, and stared across the field at a tall body advancing toward us. “Isn’t that your brother?”

  “Yeah.” Elle swung out from behind me and started waving like an overeager first grader. “He caught me.”

  “Elle,” Coop said, his breath coming out in quick huffs. “What part of ‘No, you cannot take my bike’ was so hard for you to understand?” Coop swiped his bangs out of his eyes and glared at his sister.

  Elle shrugged. “Sorry,” she said, pointing at me. “I had to choose between Pooper’s Wrath or the Fury of the Goody-Goody.”

  Coop crossed his arms over his chest. “And I lost out, huh?”

  Elle pointed at me. “She’s way scarier than you.”

  I propped a hand on my hip. “I’m not scary.”

  Max laughed.

  “I’m not,” I insisted.

  “Obviously you’ve never kept yourself waiting,” Elle said.

  “Whatever, okay?” Coop said, grabbing his bike and spinning it around. “I’m late for this thing with Allie Junette.”

  “Ooooh,” Elle and I both cooed at the same time.

  “Shut up, will you?” Coop swung a leg over the crossbar of his bike and started to pedal away.

  “You might want to wash off some of that cologne,” Elle shouted after him. “You smell like you were attacked by a bunch of girls spraying the latest fragrance from Abercrombie.”

  “That sounds like fun,” Coop yelled over his shoulder, flashing a huge grin.

  As Coop pedaled toward the street, Max looked up at the sky, which was fading from its burnt orange to a raspberry pink.

  “It’s time.” He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and kissed my cheek, knowing that this moment was charged with stormy emotion.

  “I still don’t get this,” Elle said.

  “You’re not supposed to.” I walked toward the flip-flops and listened as she followed, her feet rustling the grass behind me.

  “But I’ll find out next weekend?” she asked.

  “If you take off your shoes,” I said, sitting at the edge of the water.

  Saturday,

  April 3

  28

  A Unique Eye

  “Oh, here we go again.” Max stood at the table holding both our photography projects. He propped one foot on the table’s leg as he looked over my shoulder, frowning.

  “Should I just ignore it?” I asked. “Whatever it is.”

  Max leaned in and rolled his eyes. “You’re not going to be able to.”

  I turned and with one quick glance saw enough. “Oh. My. God.”

  “Maybe it’s not so bad.”

  “But,” I said, “it can’t be good.”

  Before I could say more, they were there beside us. Elle, with her hands stuffed in the pockets of her jeans, and Frankie Green, a junior whose hair always looked like he’d just stuck a fork into a light socket.

  “Hey, Elle,” I said, breathing in a whiff of sweet smoke that clouded around her and Frankie.

  “Hey,” Elle said, her bangs swooping down to shield her eyes, but not before I noticed how red and glossy they were.

  “Are you stoned?” I whispered.

  “Are you ever going to stop being such a goody-goody?” Elle tilted her head.

  “But it’s, like”—I looked at the clock on the wall—“three in the afternoon.”

  Elle fluttered her eyelashes.

  Bitch mode, I thought. Great.

  “I’m outta here.” She turned and grabbed Frankie’s hand.

  “No way,” I said. “You gotta see my pictures.”

  Elle looked at me, her eyes mere slits. “You’ll stop acting like my mommy?”

  I heard Max chuckle behind me. “Yes,” I said. “Now look.” I pointed to the center of my project. To the two large pictures that were bordered by the gingerbread house and the girls on their swings, the single sunflower and the entire field, the old couple holding hands and Coop walking through the field at the park, the Three Sisters in the summer and the Three Sisters in the winter. I pointed at the large pond, the leaping fountain, and us.

  Us then.

  And us now.

  “Whoa,” Elle said, taking a step forward. She ran her fingertips across the two pictures, feeling the slight crease where one passed over the other.

  Layering the shots had been like fitting together two pieces of a puzzle. Fortunately, the center of the fountain was a straight shot toward the sky. There were only a few splashes of water that didn’t quite match up. The banks in the foreground and background overlapped perfectly, creating the illusion of an entire pond when, in fact, they were two separate halves. And the girls from all those years ago, sitting on the edge of the pond dangling their feet into the water, looked like they were laughing at a joke the girls on the opposite side of the pond, the girls of the present, had just shouted around all that rushing water.

  Elle stepped back, looking at the pond, the fountain, and the four laughing girls. And then she smiled. “That’s creepy and cool all at the same time.”

  “So you like it?” I asked, trying to press down the nervous feeling that spread through my chest like fire.

  “Imagine if they”—Elle pointed to the picture Max had taken the previous week—“could talk to them.” Elle’s finger trailed across the pond, pressing her fingertip on the body of her younger, more innocent self.

  “Yeah,” I said. “I wish.”

  Elle faced me, flicking her head so her bangs flipped out of her eyes. “Your pictures kick ass,” she said.

  Frankie jutted his chin toward a mass of people twenty feet away. “Lookie there,” he said with a deep, smoky voice.

  I swiveled, looking over the cluster of round tables centered in the commons, and found Jessie perched on Chip’s lap like she was trying to keep him from flying away. I stood there wondering why Frankie had pointed them out. I didn’t think it was to be mean; Frankie had always seemed too laid back to act out of spite. It could have been some kind of test. Maybe he wanted to see if Elle was really over Chip. But that didn’t fit what I knew of Frankie, either. He’d never been one to get caught up in anything. Except finding his next buzz.

  I glanced over my shoulder at the crazy-haired boy whom Elle had chosen as her latest conquest, and I realized, judging by the way his lips curved upward and the squint in his eyes, that he was just as disgusted by them as I had always been.

  “She should just pee on him,” I said.

  Max laughed. “I think she’s marked her territory in a much less disgusting way.”

  “I guess,” I said as a few juniors, having finished the treats they’d bought in the bake-sale line, stood up from the table nearest to us and walked away.

  “Yeah.” Frankie laughed. “Winning Best Couple of the senior class. That’s got to mean they’ll get married, have three kids, and live in a two-story house bordered by a white picket fence.”

  “I’m sure Jessie has already picked out their china pattern,” Elle said with a fake gag. Her lack of emotion impressed me. And I hoped she had really moved on.

  She looked past me, her eyes darting toward Chip and away again so fast I couldn’t be sure. “Well,” she said, “we’d better go, huh?”

  Frankie nodded, his electrified hair sizzling the air.

  “We’re going to that party at Johnson’s tonight,” Elle said. “You guys wanna meet us th
ere?”

  I looked at Max. He raised his eyebrows, waiting.

  “Nah,” I said with a shake of my head. “But you guys have fun.”

  “I’ll call you tomorrow,” Elle said with a shrug.

  Elle and Frankie turned and made their way through the maze of tables and chairs, disappearing in a group of track kids coming in from the meet that had just ended.

  “You’re dying to go, aren’t you?” Max asked, his tone playful and light. “To keep track of her. To make sure she doesn’t—”

  “No,” I said, turning and wrapping my arms around his waist. “I’m really not.” And the truth of that gave me a rush of freedom I never expected to feel.

  “O! M! G!” Darcy hopped to my side and spun me around. “Honorable mention?” She popped a bubble in my face, and I caught a whiff of strawberry.

  I shrugged and looked past Darcy. The white ribbon fluttered against the sky blue backdrop of my project.

  “Are you kidding me?” Darcy asked. She turned and ran a finger along my title, letters I’d cut from old photographs that spelled Mirror Mirror at the top of my felt board. “You have nothing to say? Like ‘Darcy, you were so right. I’m an awesome photographer, and I should have listened to you all along’?”

  “She’s too embarrassed,” Max said, sliding his arm around my waist. His clean scent surrounded me, calming me with one sweet breath.

  “Well, yeah.” Darcy’s silver earrings sparkled in the sunlight pouring through the large window beside us. “Look at all the stuff on display.” Darcy swept her arm in the air, gesturing around the room. Lining the perimeter of the commons were tablesshowcasing various mediums of artwork. From pottery to papiermâché, pencil sketches to acrylics, puppets to masks, the students of CHS had created pieces that were light, dark, serious, and satirical. “There are only five honorable mentions floating around this room. She was totally wrong, and now she can’t argue the fact that she has talent.”

  “Well spoken,” Mr. Hollon said from behind me. “I have two more years with you, Tessa. I’m expecting great things.” He squeezed my shoulder and nodded at the focal point of my presentation. “Very creative, Tessa. How you worked the past and present into what seems to be a single shot. Even though you didn’t take the pictures yourself, the way you’ve chosen to fulfill the digital requirement keeps you within the parameters of the art show rules.”