by J. Benson
I took a table at the far end of the study area, hoping that people would take the hint and not sit with me. I left my books scattered on the table to prevent other people from trying to share my table.
Instead of working on the project, I sat down on the hard plastic chair, crossed my legs and opened the book to the first pages of 'The Sun Also Rises'. I didn't particularly want to read the novel again, but I wanted to give the impression that I was busy, in the hopes that no one would bother me. Especially not my project partner. I didn't have to talk to him to know he was trouble, and I would be better doing the entire project myself. It didn't take a genius to know his type. He would probably be happier letting me do the entire project myself and slacking off.
This tactic, however, failed miserably.
"Are you Emmeline?"
I looked up to see Taylor standing on the other side of the table. He had removed his sunglasses at last, and they now hung from the opening in the front of his shirt. Instead of seeing the cocky, self-assured teenager I had witnessed before, I had now looked up to see the most beautiful set of blue eyes I had ever seen. I looked away quickly before I could get lost in those very eyes. He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans.
"I'm Emma." I corrected again, immediately. I hadn't meant to say anything, but it was a complete habit to correct anyone who called me by my full name. I hated being referred to as Emmeline.
"I kind of figured. You're the only person here I don't know." He turned a chair around and sat straddling it. He smiled crookedly at me. "Looks like we're partners."
"Looks like." I mumbled in response, turning back to my book. I could feel his eyes on me, giving me the familiar once-over that all other boys gave me. I was starting to feel like fresh meat, to use a cliché. I hate clichés. I refused to flinch and blush like other girls did around him. I refused to give him the satisfaction. I simply continued to read my book.
"So... what's with the dress? Are you trying to be Goth or something?" He asked outright.
"Nope." I replied simply, not bothering to look up.
He chuckled. "You look like you're going to a funeral."
I chewed at my lips. Taylor had somehow read me like an open book. This had been the dress that I had worn to my father's funeral. I therefore had felt safe to wear it on my first day of school. In a way moving to a new town and starting a new school was like a funeral in itself. I was diving in head first. Of course, I wasn't going to tell him any of this.
"What about you?" I demanded. "What about your clothes?"
"What's wrong with my clothes?" He asked defensively.
"You look like you just stepped out of a damn Abercrombie and Fitch catalog!"
He blinked at me for a minute, and I expected further argument. Instead he began laughing. I expected a cankerous laugh that was just as self-assured as he was. However, his laugh was sweet, and boyish with an almost musical quality.
I pursed my lips and narrowed my eyes, trying to convey that I was not impressed. "Look, let's just get this stupid project out of the way. If you'd like, I'll do the whole thing. You'll get a good mark, and you won't have to lift a finger."
Again, he laughed. "Fat chance. I don't even know you. For all I know, you could be lousy at English."
I glared at him. Was he insulting me deliberately or just calling me a liar? I despised both options.
"I'll have you know that I came from an extremely reputable school and I had one of the top marks in the class." I said confidently.
He laughed. "I don't care. We're doing this assignment together."
I sighed irritably.
"Do you have your copy of the syllabus?" He asked, glancing over his shoulder to find out where the teacher was. Mrs. North was busy at another table, speaking with other students.
While I removed my copy of the syllabus from my English binder, I silently prayed Mrs. North would save us. I hoped she would realize she had made a mistake and pair me with someone else. Someone far less attractive. Someone I was far less likely to fall for.
I pretended to look at my book again, while his crystal blue eyes scanned the syllabus. One little peak at the gorgeous man in front of me couldn't hurt. If I was going to pretend to be miserable all of the time, the least I could do was admire him. He ran a hand through his beautiful blond locks and shoved them out of his eyes.
"Okay," He cleared his throat. "So we're supposed to pick an American poet or writer and do a biography and a discussion of their major works..." He looked up and caught my eyes.
I looked away, feeling like I had been caught with my hand in the cookie jar.
Thankfully he ignored the fact that I had been staring at him. He was probably used to it by now. Women probably stared at him all of the time. "So who's your favorite poet?"
"Why do I have to choose? If we're doing this equally, shouldn't we both decide?" I put emphasis on the words that would make him realize that if he was going to help me with this project he would be stuck with a very uncooperative partner. This didn't bother him.
"I thought I would be gentlemanly and let the lady have first choice." He shrugged.
"Oh wonderful, I get to choose now because I don't have a penis?" I was aiming to make him uncomfortable.
He laughed, but I could see the pink rise in his cheeks.
I smirked to myself, proud that I had managed to throw off his cocky demeanor, if only for a few brief moments. When his laughter subsided, I was ready with my answer to his question.
"You've probably never heard of her, but Edna St. Vincent Millay is my favorite poet." I replied, knowing that her poem was rare enough that no other member of the class would have chosen her to study. I also knew her poems well, having done an assignment at my old school about her.
Taylor simply smiled at me. "If you tell anyone I'm about to do this, I'll have to kill you." He said softly, a sly grin on his face. He opened his mouth and spoke in a much softer tone.
"When I too long have looked upon your face/ Wherein for me a brightness unobscured/ Save by the mists of brightness has its place/ And terrible beauty not to be endured/ I turn away reluctant from your light/And stand irresolute, a mind undone/ A silly, dazzled thing deprived of sight/ From having looked too long upon the sun...."
I sat entirely awestruck. Not only did he have the poem committed to memory, but his reading was fantastic. He paused on the right words, placed emphasis in the right places and even paused perfectly.
I was quick to interrupt. "Then is my daily life a narrow room/ In which a little while, uncertainly/ Surrounded by impenetrable gloom/ Among familiar things grown strange to me/ Making my way, I pause, and feel, and hark/ Till I become accustomed to the dark..."
I stopped at the end of the poem, a soft smile on my lips. I was actually thoroughly impressed.
"Sonnet seven, right? From 'Second April'?" Taylor asked.
I nodded slowly, suddenly much more attracted to him than anyone I had ever known in my life. I hated myself very much for even thinking it.
"Okay." Taylor said suddenly, chuckling. It was almost a nervous chuckle. "So where do we start? Should we work equally on all parts or should we divide the tasks equally? I can do the biography and you can do the discussion of her major works?" He asked.
I chewed at my lips.
Almost as if he read my mind, he smirked. "But you don't trust me to do the biography properly. And that leads me to believe that I shouldn't trust you with the discussion. So it looks like we're at an impasse."
"Looks like." I mused. "So now what?"
"Well," He replied, sitting back in his chair and folding his arms behind his head. "We need to come up with a plan. Some sort of strategy to work together on this. Do you have time after school?"
I opened my mouth to say something, but I had nothing witty or smart to retort. I was about to make myself look like a complete idiot.
With perfect timing, the bell rang, signifying the end of class. In a rush to get out of there, and get out o
f the situation, I grabbed my books and in one quick motion gathered my things and fled from the library. I needed all the time I could comprise to find my next class: gym. My most hated of all classes.
Gym class was an absolute disaster. It took me ages to find the gym from the library, and I ended up being almost ten minutes late for class. I barely had time to change into the hideous gym class uniform and throw my hair into a pony-tail before the teacher had us out running laps around the gym.
At my old school in New York, gym class had been optional after the ninth grade. I opted out of gym in favor of taking a few extra English classes. I was starting to feel insanely out of shape; and it didn't help that I hadn't stretched or warmed up before I joined the class. I was late, and joined the class almost a full lap behind. I managed to catch up just enough to make it seem like I wasn't completely out of shape.
I didn't seem to recognize any of the other girls in my gym class. From what I could tell, none of them were in my English class. This suited me just fine. I wasn't here to make friends; I was here just long enough to get through my last year of high school and get on with my life.
When the teacher finally called us to the center of the gym, my muscles were screaming at me and I felt like I was going to pass out. I cursed myself for not thinking to bring water with me. I was almost relieved when the teacher divided us into teams and informed us we would be playing basketball. I could at least sit out for parts of the game, and when I played I could just run up and down the court without making it look like I was slacking. I didn't have to even try to touch the ball as long as I made it seem like I was making an honest effort.
Class finally ended, and I was finally permitted to go and shower and put my dress back on. I didn't bother washing my hair; it would have been too hard to keep my curls from becoming unruly after being wet.
The very moment the bell rang signaling lunch, I made a direct beeline for my car. This car felt like the one thing in the entire world that truly belonged to me. And right now it was my complete salvation.
I opened the unlocked door, threw my bag onto the seat and climbed inside. I hadn't felt the need to lock my ancient clunker while I was in school. I figured no one would steal it. I rubbed my cold hands together briskly, hoping to gather myself. I rummaged through my messenger bag and produced the sandwich my grandmother had lovingly prepared for me. I was never a fan of lunch, and usually avoided it, but the peanut butter sandwich she had made me looked so tempting. She had even cut off the crusts and cut the bread diagonally; the way I like it when I was a child. I couldn't hide the smile from my lips.
Keeping the sandwich on my lap, I stared straight ahead of me to the football field. Without realizing it, I had parked near one of the tall yellow goal posts. There were a group of students gathered around the goal post, smoking and chatting. I forgot about my sandwich and watched them. The cloud of smoke wafted around them and if I shut my eyes tight enough and inhaled deeply enough, I could still smell the scent of Marlboro lights that my father always smoked.
I was interrupted by a loud knocking at my window. Using the old fashioned window crank, I rolled down the window, just far enough to see that Taylor was now standing next to my car. I rolled my eyes and suppressed a groan.
"Hey," He said simply, leaning his arm on the roof of my car. With his free hand, he shoved his blond locks out of his crystal blue eyes.
"Yeah?" I asked coldly, hoping he would take the hint. I did not want to be disturbed.
I shook away my clouded memories at the sound of that familiar and slightly obnoxious voice. I stared straight through the windshield in front of me, hoping that he wouldn't notice the tears pooling around my eyes. I suddenly missed my father more than anything else in the world.
"What do you want? How did you know this was my car?" I demanded, struggling to keep my voice strong and unwavering.
"This is the only car in the parking lot that I don't recognize. You're the only new student, so I put two and two together." He replied. "And I figured you couldn't get far without these."
He held up a simple silver ring with two plain keys dangling from it. I recognized the keys immediately; one was the car key and the other was the key to my grandmother's house. I would have been lost without either of them.
"Shit, where did you find those?" I asked reaching out to take them from him. I tried not to touch his fingers as I snatched my key ring from his hand.
"You left them in the library, and I wanted to return them to you." He shrugged.
"Thank you." I said earnestly. Any other person would have left my keys there, or would have turned them into the office. Perhaps I had been wrong about him. But I wasn't about to allow myself the chance to find out.
He grinned arrogantly at me from the open window. "I'll see you in class." He tapped the roof of my car and turned to walk back towards the school.
I watched him leave in my rear view mirror. He sauntered across the parking lot like he owned the whole school, waving to someone who passed him in a car. He stopped to talk to some people on the other side of the parking lot.
I sighed heavily and dropped my head back against the headrest and shut my eyes. I squeezed my eyes shut tightly for several moments until I could shake away the thoughts that were bothering me. I slowly opened my eyes again and reached for my sandwich.
Chapter 5:
Accidental Ride Home
Little did I know that Taylor had somehow been right about seeing me in class. He was in both my math and science classes in the afternoon. I briefly wondered if he had known something I didn't, but I quickly dismissed the thought. I tried not to think about it too much. I managed to pick him out in the classroom immediately and intentionally found a seat on the opposite side of the room from him. I wanted to distance myself from his brand of trouble. No matter where he was in the classroom, he managed to draw a crowd of students around him--both male and female onlookers.
The teacher in my math class had recognized me as a new student immediately, and humiliated me by making me stand up in front of the class and tell everyone about myself.
Mortified, I stumbled red-faced through the details I didn't mind sharing. I told them all that I was from Manhattan, New York, and that I had just moved here, and that my favorite subject was English. When I didn't say anything, the teacher prompted me and asked me lame questions.
Thankfully, the teacher let me return to my seat with just that little bit of information conveyed. I hadn't necessarily lied to anyone; I had simply skipped over some details. I had left out only the most vital information. I left out the fact that at times I missed my father so much I could hardly breathe.
I returned to my seat amid the murmurs of the other classmates and sat fully embarrassed behind a curtain of my chocolate brown hair that hung in waves that fell just beyond my shoulders. I hoped my hair was thick enough to hide the blush on my face.
By the time school ended, I was so completely relieved to be out of there, I practically skipped to my locker like a prisoner just released from a twenty-five year sentence. I shoved my books into my locker tiredly, just thankful that the day was over. I wondered if there was anything more humiliating than the first day at a new school, but at least it was done and over with. And aside from some marginal embarrassment, I had survived.
It had taken me some time to find my way back to my locker from my last class of the day, and by the time I dropped off all of my books and picked up my purse, it seemed as though the school was empty. I was sort of relieved for the moment alone. But at least I had a moment to collect my thoughts, even if the school was a little eerie when it was empty.
I walked briskly from my locker to the front door that led to the parking lot. It was then I realized why the school seemed so empty. It was pouring down rain in sheets, harder than I had ever seen in my life. In New York, this type of rain would have kept people inside and off the streets, but here life went on as if it were an everyday occurrence. The cars on the street in front of
the school sloshed by, splashing in the already forming puddles.
I stood in the doorway with my mouth open in slight awe. There were puddles already knee deep in the parking lot, and my car was on the farthest side of the lot. Thankfully, my car was the only one left, so I didn't have to worry about searching for my car or trying to remember where I had parked it.
I sighed in exasperation and broke into a fast run, cursing myself for not being more prepared for the weather. This was just my luck. And just when I thought the day couldn't possibly get any worse, I was about to get soaked.
I reached my car, and was actually grateful that I had kept it unlocked. My shoes were soaked and my feet slid in them as I reached the driver's side door.
I jumped inside quickly, and shook my head from side to side. I threw my purse and my wet books into the backseat and turned over the engine. I cupped my hands together, and blew in them to warm them. It was surprisingly cold for September, but I assumed that was either the rain or the fact that I was in the middle of nowhere in Oklahoma.
I cranked up the heat and pressed my hands to the heaters, muttering under my breath to try and coax the heat to come out faster.
After a couple of minutes, I gave up on trying to get the heat to work and pressed my foot on the brake pedal. I was just about to shift the car into reverse when the passenger's side door opened suddenly and a body climbed in, shaking the entire car.
"What the hell?" I demanded with wide eyes.
A familiar face and crystal blue eyes turned to face me. Taylor grinned slyly at me. "Where are you headed?" He asked with a casual shrug. His beautiful blond hair was wet and dripping around his shoulders.
"I'm going home! What are you doing?" I demanded. "Get the hell out of my car!"
To make my point, I shoved my car into park and folded my arms over my chest. I wasn't about to budge and neither was my car.