Grey_The Encounter

by Allison White

  Thirty minutes go by in the flash of an eye. The discussion is a bit slow, and Ms. James calls on kids when none of us jump to answer a question. I answer a few with arrogance because I know exactly what I’m talking about. Grey rolls his eyes every time, and I discreetly give him a smirk of my own. I can be cocky too, I gloat to him in my head.

  “Can anyone name a few more diseases that haven’t been mentioned yet?”

  Everyone, including me, is shocked when Grey raises his hand. Once called on, he gives me a brief smile before sliding his cool, black eyes to the front and answering, “OCD.”

  “Otherwise known as Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.” Ms. James looks pleased with his cooperation. I’m honestly shocked. He has never raised his hand. Ever. So I know this will take a turn for the worse. “And what can a person suffering from this do to cope with it?”

  He shrugs, feigning a false look of concern. “Maybe…stop planning every second of every day in a…let’s say…planner?”

  I gasp but quickly reel back. That was obviously directed at me. “You can’t exactly just stop a disease like that.”

  His gaze slithers to meet mine, lazily lifting a shoulder. “And yet, here we are talking about it in class. Isn’t that funny?”

  There are a few chuckles at his sarcasm, but I don’t find it funny. Not one bit. It’s more condescending than anything.

  “But maybe they should plan their days. If it keeps them sane, why take it away?” I shrug my own shoulders and add, “Plus, we’re talking about coping with diseases. And planning is a coping mechanism for the frazzled mind.”

  “I interpret coping to mean slowly inching toward a cure.” He smiles, slowly inching his eyes in a narrowed look. “And stopping their dirty habit of being a control freak is a step closer to being normal.”

  “You are both right,” Ms. James says, and Grey breaks into a large grin. I bet that’s the first time he’s heard that in his life.

  I glare at his supposed sweet smile and raise my own hand. “I have one in mind,” I say to Ms. James, and she nods, giving me permission to speak. “Narcissism.” My eyes cut from hers to his dark eyes and matching scowl. Ha! Got him right where it hurts. He’s more interested in himself than others. I wouldn’t be surprised if I found him popping pills for the disease.

  Ms. James nods, a look of approval etched into her up-turned lips. “And how may one cope with this disease?”

  I shrug, facing her, and pursing my lips while I pinch my nose bridge. “Well, I’d have to say…pulling one’s head out of their own ass and worrying about others’ feelings.” I raise a hand and apologize for my crass language. “Narcissism deals with extreme interest in oneself, and that means having little concern for other people and their feelings. They get so wrapped up in their own mind and image that—that they’re unaware of how they treat others. But if someone with the disease stopped for a second—a real second—and pulled away from the mirror and looked at someone else for a change, then maybe that façade of loving themselves so much could dull for a moment and show their true selves.” Silence washes over the room.

  Grey grits his teeth together. “What about post-traumatic disorder?”

  I gasp again and openly glare at him. “What about bipolar disorder?”

  “What about being a prude?” he growls.

  “What about being a manwhore?” I shout childishly. How could he bring up my disorder here? That isn’t something I want everyone in the school to know about. I only told him that because I thought we could be friends. But I guess not.

  “That’s enough,” Ms. James says, holding out her hands. “Class is over. Don’t forget to study for your first quiz on Friday.” Murmurs fill my ears as the class assemble their things and exit, and I take in a deep breath and apologize for my childish actions. I don’t know what it is, but he truly brings out the very worst in me. I’m just glad I won’t have to deal with him anymore. I don’t want to, but I will change my seat, since he’s found a liking to the one next to mine.

  I’m walking briskly outside when I bump into a girl. A book falls out of my bag, and she keeps walking. It’s the notebook in which I’ve begun writing my article for the psych program. I huff out in annoyance but bend down and reach to pick it up. However, a large hand that has thick tattoo ink beneath the hem of a leather jacket snags it before I can. I stand and cross my arms.

  “Give it to me,” I say to Grey in an I’m-not-in-the-mood tone.

  He smirks. “All you had to do was ask, Princess.” He moves toward me, and I scrunch up my face in disgust and snatch the book from him and throw it back in my bag and zip it back up.

  “You disgust me.” I turn away from him, but he grabs my wrist and yanks me into his chest.

  “How can I turn that disgust into pleasure? Wait. Don’t answer. I’m sure I know just the answer.” He bends down to my face. My heart leaps out of my chest, and I stomp on his foot and push away from him. He curses and steels his eyes and jaw.

  “Was last night not enough indication that I don’t want to be around you?” I shout, balling my hands into fists. I step forward. “Get this through your thick skull. I. Do. Not. Want. To have anything to do with you. You’re cruel and manipulative. Leave me alone and bother some other prude, okay?” I turn away from his unnerving face and walk away.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Friday comes faster than I expected it to. The rest of the week goes by in an instant, but it surely doesn’t feel that way to me. All week I’ve been working harder than I have ever worked in my life. Pushing myself to please my mother.

  I nearly write every word that leaves my professors’ lips. I had to buy brand new composition notebooks because I’ve finished most of them. I studied every single day as soon as I entered my dorm room. My eyes never left the textbooks or notebooks on my lap as I studied until the words were practically branded in my mind, and all I can see were them. And then after, I took pictures of completed works and sent them to my mother.

  But it was all for a good cause: to satisfy my mother’s request to help me succeed. What she’s making me do will only help me in the future. I have ultra-confidence that I will ace any upcoming quizzes, like the one in Psych today. If I knew what it was on exactly, I would have studied the topic harder than my broad focus on all I’ve learned in the class so far.

  I thought for sure Grey would have continued to get under my skin despite the last time we spoke, but he hasn’t even glanced at me. Not once. Nor has he brought Diana or any other girl around to flash in my face to mess with me. It was as if I flipped a switch that turned him into a brooding mute. However, that wasn’t what I was hoping for. Not at all. But at least it got him off my back. Because I haven’t interacted with him, I was able to focus, really focus, on my work.

  Even now as I sit here in our usual seat by the window of the local coffee shop, waiting for Mason to arrive, I can’t focus on anything else but completing my fourth extra-credit assignment for English Literature. I was assigned the task to create a short story using at least ten literary elements. I could only write five hundred words, so it’s a bit difficult to include them all in the correct way, but it doesn’t stop me from trying my best and more.

  “Hey,” Mason said, pulling me out of my flustered mind. I look up to see him passing me a warm smile as he takes the seat across from me.

  I return the smile. “Hey, I got your favorite muffin and coffee.”

  His smile broadens. “I see the muffin but not the coffee.”

  “Wait for it,” I say, holding up a finger.

  The barista, whose name I learned is Megan, walks up to us and sets his piping black coffee in front of him. “One black coffee.” She winks at me, and I nod appreciatively before she jogs back to the front counter, taking a customer’s order.

  Mason makes a confused, low noise and lifts an eyebrow. “How?” he says around a nervous laugh.

  “No one likes cold coffee,” I say, “so I asked if she could bring you yours when you arriv
ed. All it takes is politeness and a smile,” I tell him, quirking my lips in a lazy smile. “And four extra dollars, but you are worth it.”

  “Why, thank you.” He tips his head and picks at his muffin with a gracious smile.

  “You are very welcome.” I smile and look back at the work beneath my hands.

  I write in silence as he tells me how much his Economics teacher is an asshole—I cringe when he uses that explicit word but keep quiet and listen—for giving him a low score on a research paper he put hard work into. By the sound of it, the class is extremely difficult to accumulate excellent scores without some negative marks. He says it’s the teacher, but I think it’s the subject branch altogether. I could only imagine the stress I’d be under if I decided to have a career like my father. Then again, psychology isn’t all that easy either.

  “Mm-hmmm,” I murmur a reply to his question I barely registered as I include my eighth literary element.

  The story is about a little girl who lost her family and ends up on the porch of a monstrous black beast that is an equally devilish man underneath and takes her innocence for his own. It’s dark, I know, but I am sure Mr. Howard doesn’t mind a little danger incorporated in writing. Plus, once I got the idea, it just stuck to me. I don’t know why, though…

  “Liv.” A soft voice pulls me out of my word flow. My heart skips at the sound of that nickname. I look up, expecting to find a pair of dazzling black eyes, but rather look into penny-brown colored eyes. Mason. Why was I expecting to find Grey?

  I run a hand against my heavy eyes and croak, “Yeah? Sorry, I wasn’t listening. I’m just trying to finish this.” I clutch the spiral notebook and blink rapidly. There are hazy edges around the whites of my eyes, and my head is flaring with indescribable pain. I pinch my nose bridge and gesture to him with my other hand. “I’m sorry, what were you saying?”

  “Never mind that,” he says. “Are you all right? You look…sick.” I peel my eyelids that weigh a ton to open wider and give him a small, assuring smile. “Do you need me to take you to the medical building?”

  “No, no, no—I am fine. Why would you even ask that?” I relax my shoulders and fidget with my bracelet.

  He gives me a once-over. “Because you look like you’re on edge, and there are bags around your eyes. And your skin…you look very pale.”

  I shrug nonchalantly. “I can assure you, I am all right. I don’t feel sick.” I avert my eyes from his intense, pinned glare.

  His face hardens. “Look me in the eyes and say that again.”

  I shift my eyes from a decorative shoulder bag hanging on the chair next to us and look him square in the eyes. “I…I am fine.” I struggle to say the words. He arches his brows and pins me with a questioning expression. “Okay, I may not be completely fine, but—”

  “When’s the last time you ate?” He slices through my words, and I falter. I scrunch up my eyebrows and put a finger to my lips. “If you have to think about it, it’s been too long.” He pushes the other half of his muffin to me and nods at it. “Eat.”

  “I’m fine, I swear—”

  “And I swear if you don’t, I will drag you to the medical building where they will force you to eat.” He pauses. I hear pure concern in his voice when he whispers, “You look really thin. Too thin for me to go on about my day while knowing I did nothing to help you. So eat that muffin. Then I will cease the tiniest bit in worrying.”

  I admire how much he cares about me, but I’m really okay. I admit I have been stretching myself thin for the past week. However, it was for a good reason. But I will comply with his request. I’m sure I’m hungry. I think…I don’t have any appetite whatsoever. I can’t remember the last time I ate or drank.

  I pick up the blueberry muffin, peel back the plastic encasing it, and slowly sink my teeth into it. The soft texture feels like metallic rubber on my tongue, and the smell makes my stomach do a double take, but I keep those thoughts to myself and smile after I swallow.

  “Happy now?” I tease.

  He grins. “Better. Finish that on the way.” He stands, scraping the chair back and swinging his backpack over his shoulders. “I’m walking you to class in case you pass out.”

  “I appreciate that, but I won’t pass out.”

  “I am not taking the chance.” He holds out his hand with a tilt of his head. “Let’s go. I know how you like to be on time.”

  ***

  I’m lucky to have a friend like Mason. He walked me from class to class without worry of being late to his own. I highly appreciated the notion and how much he’s going out of his way, literally, to escort me safely since I have been noticeably weak. But I still felt bad that I took him away from his routine.

  When I expressed my feelings to him as he was walking me to Photography class, he waved me off and went on to say how much he cares about my health and how he’s still taking me to the medical building later. I huffed in annoyance, thinking about the assignments I have to complete in my dorm room, but entered the class silently.

  Now, as he escorts me to my fifth and last class of the day, Psychology, I remember and prepare for Ms. James’ quiz and the counseling session my mother created for me. I’m already anxious because of the quiz. Though I am confident I will do well considering all the studying I’ve been doing, it doesn’t mean I can’t be nervous for it. I’m the same way with all of my other subjects. And no matter what I do, I can’t shake the nerves.

  “All right, have fun and call me when you’re done with your test. I’ll swing by, and we’ll grab something to eat, then head over to the medical building.”

  “Got it.” I launch my arms around him and let out a sigh. “Thank you for being such a nice friend.” I seriously don’t know what I’d do without him. He hugs me back tighter and lets out a breath of his own. It tickles my neck hairs, and I smile wider.

  “You’re welcome. I’ll always be here for you.” He pulls back and gifts me a bright smile. “Good luck on the quiz. I’ll see you soon.”

  “Thanks. Goodbye.” I wave at him while turning around. He nods at me with a ghost of a smile, stuffing his hands in his jeans.

  I linger for a moment, gathering fresh air. I feel as though I am finally breathing after being cooped up in my dorms for the past few days. The warm breeze makes my skin prickle with light goosebumps and little tendrils of my hair flutter in the wind, teasing the cusp of my ears. I take another breath before stepping through the open door.

  I sit in my seat and take out my pen and stare at the board. The other students pile in, and after the quiz papers are handed out, the time on the clock begins. We have the entire period to finish the quiz, but after we’re finished, we may leave after turning in the paper. The questions are familiar to me, and so are the answers. A smile washes over my face when I realize I’ve studied everything on here. See? All that time I spent in my dorm room did pay off after all. I finish the quiz in five minutes flat, completing the extra credit questions with a soft hum playing over and over in my head.

  After I am done, I put away my pen and walk over to the desk. I place the paper face down on Ms. James’ podium and turn to leave, but a whisper of my name from behind me halts me in my tracks. I turn to find Ms. James nodding to the wooden door that connects to her official office.

  “Yes, Ms. James?” I walk over to her.

  “We’re going to have your session in here, since you are finished with the quiz,” she informs me.

  “All right,” I say with a smile. I honestly hoped she would have forgotten about it or wrote it off as a request from a ridiculous parent. Apparently not.

  I follow her into her office. The room is large and dark in crimson colors, like the leather chairs in front and behind her cherry oak wood desk, the velvet curtains held back to display the campus outside, and walls decorated with pictures of the human anatomy and different parts of the brain. It feels like a vampire doctor dungeon threw up in here, but I don’t dare say that out loud.

  “Nice layout,” I
compliment her, sitting down in the leather couch she gestures to. “It’s pretty…dark.” I hope I don’t sound rude. I actually do like it.

  She sits in one of the living chairs facing it, across the glass coffee table. “I am a college professor. You didn’t expect a daycare replica in here, did you?” I shake my head, watching as she removes her glasses and wipes at it using the dark red scarf around her shoulders, her curly brown hair moving as she shakes her head. “If you encase yourself in a room that portrays the image you want other people to see, they will be bound to tie you with it. Which was what you were going for. People don’t see the signs, only the big red letters flashing in their faces. Weak thing the human mind is…”

  “Nice approach, Ms. James,” I agree, admiring her laid-back approach to the human psyche. “But aren’t you worried someone will cheat?” I ask, referring to the students left alone in the classroom.

  She waves a hand. “Like I said, this is college. If they cheat, that’s their business. They can. I’m not stopping them, because if you don’t know anything now and learn from your mistakes but copy instead, you won’t learn anything, and you’ll flat out fail and be forced to take this class again next fall. And it’s not me spending precious money on education.” She raises her hands with a small smile. “I’m long done with school.” I grin.

  “Oh, I have the article I’m working on for the program. Do you mind taking a look at it?” I dig in my bag and pull out the notebook and hand it to her. “It isn’t anywhere near completion, but I could use your input.”

  She nods and opens the front cover. I sit back with a trained smile, playing with my thumbs as she reads. Five minutes pass before she looks up and gives me a wide grin.

  “This is amazing.” She hands the book back, and I flash her my teeth. “Keep going. I’m sure you’ll get in. The way you’re writing so far, I know you will.”