by Ruth Houston
Her gaze shifted to someone behind me, and I turned as well. A guy I recognized as one of my new teammates on the cross country team was making his way past me and towards Winter. Instantly, jealousy flamed up inside me.
"Gavin, what are you doing here?" The words seemed to slip automatically out of her lips as he approached her. She shifted her weight uncomfortably from one foot to the other, glancing back at me.
Alright. Now I could put a name with that face. Better watch your back Gavin, cross country is just about to get a whole lot more competitive for ya.
"Cross country. Remember I told you I was running cross country this year because we had so much fun last spring on track?" he said. "Whatcha lookin' at?"
She raised her chin a fraction and jerked her head in the direction of the display case in a motion that I recognized and knew as one that was distinctly hers. "Just the hall of fame thing," she said softly. "Tristan got a whole bunch of awards last year. I like seeing his name on the trophies." Once again her eyes strayed back to mine. All I could do was stand there, rooted to the spot, mind racing along at a pace that I could barely keep up with. Were they friends? More than friends? Not possible; she would have written about him if they were. But wait, maybe she had met him after we had stopped exchanging letters. A dangerous mix of guilt, anger, and envy ripped through me, and gave me a sudden energy boost that allowed me to walk down the hall towards them.
Winter's eyes were already on me before I even started walking, and a second later Gavin realized she wasn't paying attention to what he was saying, and also turned to look at me.
"Hey," I said nonchalantly.
"Hi Zack," Winter said. I had to give her mad, mad props for looking so cool and collected. This girl had it together. "Have you two met? You're both doing cross country, right? Zack, this giraffe of a clown –" she punched him on the arm, "– is Gavin. Gav, this is Zack. He's my…old friend. He just moved back from Italy."
Gavin nodded at me with a pleasant grin. "Nice to meet you."
"Yeah," I said, trying very hard not to glare at him.
"Italy, huh? Really? That's pretty cool. Were you attending school there or something?" he asked interestedly. "Hey, I think I remember you. You were in my biology class freshmen year, weren't you?"
"Yeah, I think so," I said, just for the sake of agreeing, because I really didn't remember nor care to remember. "Yeah, I was attending a school over there. Didn't like it, so I came back." I glanced at Winter and held her gaze for a second before looking back up to Gavin, who was at least five or six inches taller than my 5'11". Winter wasn't kidding. He really was a giraffe.
"I see," Gavin said with a cheerful smile. "Well I'm glad we've been introduced. Ready for the cross country season?"
"Definitely," I smirked.
He looked confused for a second, then said, "Okay. Well look, I gotta go, but it was cool meeting you, Zack. I'll probably see you tomorrow at practice."
I nodded. Yes. Bring it on, Gavin. I'm ready to burn you.
"And you," he said, turning to Winter, resting a hand on her arm. I was bristling inside – hands to yourself, asshole. "I'll see you tomorrow. I will call you tonight – I have a favor to ask of you."
"Okay," Winter said. "Later, Gav."
"Bye," he said, and departed with a casual wave at both of us.
Winter and I watched him until he left the building, the glass door closing behind him with a clank that echoed in the empty hallway.
She turned back to me first.
"Uhm –" I said.
Winter looked at me expectantly, brushing a piece of hair out of her eyes.
"So," I started, "Are you and Gavin…" I made a slight hand gesture to indicate my meaning, trying to seem casual.
"Huh? Me and Gavin?....Oh! No, no," she said quickly. "Are you kidding me?" She grinned slightly. "Definitely not like that."
"Okay," I said as we slowly started walking in the direction Gavin had just exited, relief making it hard to fight against a smile. "So, look, about earlier…I'm really sorry about that."
I waited with bated breath for her response.
"I'm sorry too," she admitted as I opened the door and gestured at her to exit first. "I should have let you talk. Thanks," she murmured as she slipped past me, her shoulder accidentally brushing against my chest as she did so.
"No problem," I muttered back as I followed her through the door. "So…are you still mad?" I asked cautiously.
"Mad?" She said. We were making our way towards the student parking lot now. "Uh…" She laughed uncomfortably, running a hand through her hair. "I guess…not?"
"Is that a question or a statement?" I grinned.
"Question, I think?" She teased with a smile.
I chuckled as we approached my car, deciding to drop the subject. "Want a ride home?" I asked her.
She sighed. "I drove to school today," she said, pointing to the other side of the parking lot, where her car must have been parked. "Thanks though."
I nodded. "So," I said slowly.
"So…" she mumbled, avoiding my eye.
"I guess I'll see you tomorrow?" I said, jingling my keys in my hand.
Winter looked up at me and we held each others' gazes for a moment. Finally she nodded, and said with a slight smile, "Yeah. Tomorrow."
"I wasn't kidding earlier, you know," I said suddenly, not wanting her to leave just yet.
"About what?" she asked curiously.
"About how…it's good to see you again, and…" Argh, screw this. I guess I just had to put myself out on a limb. "And how I swear to god you've gotten more beautiful, even though I didn't think it was possible," I whispered, unable to hold back from reaching out and pushing a strand of hair behind her ear.
"Thanks," she said, looking flustered, but I noted that her lips held the traces of a smile.
"Okay," I said as she walked away, not wanting to push her too fast for anything, though what I really wanted was to…
Ah, on second thought, never mind. Maybe there are some things we should keep to ourselves.
xxxxx
Unfortunately, for the rest of the week I saw little of Winter except for in the mornings in Calculus class. She was more or less friendly, and I wondered at her change of heart – why was it that she wasn't as mad as I had predicted she would be? Our exchanges were mere "hello"s and "what's up"s, and I had to force myself to be patient with her. An eight month long absence was not something that could be fixed in a few days, and I had to live with that. But I had to admit, it was rather fun watching her squirm when the ever animated Mr. Raskin called on her for answers, which she always gave with the utmost accuracy and unenthusiastic disinterest.
By the end of the second week of school, I knew I had to be going crazy. A number of random-ass popular kids kept coming up to me and chatting with me when I had better things to be doing. I had nothing to say to them, and from the lack of variation in our conversations it seemed to go both ways. I'd make superficial friendships with them since it only seemed polite to do so, but if they wanted to suck me into their Abercrombie-wearing universe, they could think again – it wasn't going to happen any time soon. I never liked associating myself with a fixed crowd.
Well, to be fair, I suppose some of them weren't that bad. One or two of the "in" seniors were decent, and the people on student council, though probably only on the committee because of popularity devices, were okay too. Whatever. I had Brock Davis, my old pal, to hang out with at school.
Another unfortunate thing was the amount of attention Winter had been getting recently from the male population of the school. It seemed they had finally all gotten eyes, which was not a good thing from my point of view, because said eyes were wandering towards her direction and roaming over her body much more than I would have liked. I counted a total of seven different guys that had approached in just that first week of school, hopefully with a pickup line so horrible she had just smiled politely and excused herself.
Speaking of the male p
opulation of Branner High, there was one Mr. Gavin Pennington who she could be found in the company of quite often.
That might have been the reason my mile times in cross country improved so rapidly. There was always one person I had to get to the finish line in front of, even though technically we were all supposed to be running in a pack. I was Coach Tuft's new favorite athlete. And I don't say that to brag, I say it as a fact. Trust me, I never have and never will care to be any teacher or coach's pet.
I wasn't sure he ever caught on to my dislike of him, or if he did, I was confident he didn't know the reason.
There was also the fact that Winter and I hadn't progressed past pretending we were simply casual acquaintances, but that wasn't the reason I was so aggravated. No, it was more that those stupid testosterone driven males in our class just didn't want to give up on hitting on her.
It was on the Monday of the third week of school when I had had enough. Some junior named Ian Farrington finally made me snap. As a side note, I had learned through observation that Ian Farrington was also associated with Gavin – all the more reason to dislike him.
It was at brunch time, between first and third block, that I was at my locker, getting out my Spanish textbook, when I saw Winter at her locker also, just a few feet away. It was very convenient having our last names so close to each other in the alphabet, because I always knew where I could find her during passing periods. I also saw, out of the corner of my eye, that idiot Ian Farrington approaching her.
I busied myself at my locker, trying desperately to hear their conversation over the noise of the hallway. I caught just some strands of it.
"Hey Winter…how's…going?"
"Ian…fine……you?"
"…good…th–…asking. Gav…me…tell you."
"Oh…tell him…was fine, he's welcome any time…"
"Okay…look, I…wondering….if…busy, next Thursday….."
Crap, what the hell was that? I shut my locker and marched over to them. Winter looked tired and seemed to be formulating a response when I cut in.
"Hey Winter," I said cheerfully.
"Hi Zack," she said, smiling (hopefully) in relief.
"Oh," I said, pretending to notice Ian for the first time, "I'm not interrupting anything, am I? Sorry, I need to talk to Winter really quick about our Calculus exam on Friday. So, listen," I said, still talking as I steered us down the hall, away from Ian, a hand resting lightly on her elbow. "I was wondering if you wanted to possibly…tutor me in Calculus?" I waggled my eyebrows at her, blabbering on because he could probably still hear us. "You know…I really don't get all that stuff we've been learning. Are you busy after school?" I grinned at her.
"Thank you so much," she whispered; we were out of earshot now. "That's the fifth time so far. I don't want to be mean to him, because he's Gavin's friend, but really, you'd think he'd be able to take a hint," she growled.
"Just blow him off once and for all," I advised her. Though I must admit, I was probably the most biased advisor she could have had.
"It's not that easy when people are so persistent," she moaned. "What class do you have next? Spanish?"
"Yeah," I said, "You have English right?"
She gave me a thumbs up and mock excited expression. "I think I'll sleep through the grammar lecture today."
I chuckled. "Yeah, Ms. Burbank isn't the most interesting of teachers." We had come to a stop in the courtyard. "Did you start the essay on the summer reading yet?"
"No," she groaned. "I don't even have a thesis yet. I'm so screwed! I've been procrastinating on it since last Wednesday. Have you started?" She shifted her books to her other arm and glanced up at me.
"Uh…um, n–well, sort of…I guess…" I stuttered.
"Zack, are you okay?" she asked, giving me an uncertain smile.
"Yeah, fine," I said. In truth I had kind of been distracted when she had looked at me like that, dark eyes gazing into mine, head tilting to the side as she posed the question. "Just a little tired," I said, the excuse coming to mind easily. It was the truth. I thought that coming back to California would have made my sleeping patterns return to normal, but just as they had been for the past eight months, my nights consisted of drifting in and out of consciousness before I gave up trying to fall asleep and just got out of bed.
"Did you go to sleep really late last night?" Winter asked curiously. "It's only the third week of school you know, you shouldn't be stressing out already." She grinned.
I smiled ruefully. "Yeah, I suppose so…" I trailed off.
"Come to think of it, you do look pretty tired," she frowned, eyes searching my face a second time.
I laughed it off. "Nah, I'm alright, don't worry about it."
She opened her mouth to speak, but apparently thought better of it and shut it. A gust of wind blew by us and she shivered, lifting her binders from her side and hugging them to her chest instead. "It's kind of chilly today," she commented.
"Are you cold? Do you want my jacket?" I asked immediately.
"Huh? No, I don't think that's a good idea. Remember what happened the last time you gave me your jacket?" she grinned.
I laughed. "Do you still have it?"
"No, Zack, I threw it away because it was such a horrible, unattractive jacket and the cologne you wore that day smelled like crap," she said, eyebrows raised.
"So you do still have it," I smiled.
"Of course I still have it," she said, rolling her eyes just slightly. "In case you didn't realize, I was being fully sarcastic – the cologne thing included," she amended.
"I know," I nodded. "So…I think you've been quite the rage among the guys recently," I said in a teasing voice, though it really wasn't that funny to me at all. "I've gotten a lot of casual comments about you since school started."
Her eyes snapped to mine. "Oh, god, what kind of 'casual comments'?" she groaned. "I hope nothing too crude."
"Eh…stuff like, 'Hey, do you know who Winter Bruin is? She's so hot.'" The worst part of it? I wasn't even lying. I had been getting off-hand comments like that. It made my blood boil every time.
She wrinkled her nose. "Ick," she said. "What the hell."
I nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly – what kinds of sickos were they, thinking they had the right to check her out like that?
"Okay," she exhaled as the bell rang, signaling the end of brunch. "I better go. Time for English. Wish me luck."
I chuckled. "See you later."
I watched her as she left, never moving until I couldn't see her any longer. When was she really going to let me in again?
Well damn, a guy can't be patient forever.
Chapter 32: A Westley Secret
-Zack-
"Are you going to the Halloween dance next week?" I asked casually.
Her head snapped up from the Calculus problem she had been poring over, and dark chocolate eyes regarded me curiously. "No, why?" Winter said.
"Oh, no reason," I replied, taking the empty seat in front of her, straddling the chair so I was facing her. Mr. Raskin was absent today and we had a substitute who gave us some class work. The room was noisy – no one felt like actually doing the assignment. Everyone was just milling about, chatting with friends. The sub didn't seem to care; he was a computer geek type of guy who was currently typing away like mad at Mr. Raskin's laptop. Winter seemed to be the only one who was working on the Calculus problems. After watching her from my seat for most of the period while finishing the Spanish homework that I had due next block, I finally decided to approach her.
"Are you going?" she asked in return, setting down her pencil and propping her chin up on one fist.
"Nah," I said. "I heard Gavin was going to ask you."
"Huh? Gavin? Oh," she said blankly. "I see."
"Would you have said yes?" I mused aloud. I didn't really care either way…of course I didn't care.
"Uh, no, I don't think so," Winter said, smiling slightly. "Should I be watching my words here or something? I'm wondering i
f these are some trick questions and if the answers are going to get back to Gavin one way or another."
I grinned. "No, they're not trick questions, and they won't get back to Gavin unless someone stuck some bugging devices on us like in the CIA spy movies."
Her smile widened. "Well I suppose we'll just have to trust that the CIA doesn't think of us as threats to national security."
"You are, I'm not," I said charmingly.
"Hey! Shut up," she said, reaching forward and pushing my shoulder, though she was chuckling. "Just wait until I get you out on the tennis court. You won't be insulting me then."
"Are you implying that I'm not good at tennis?" I asked, pretending to be offended. "How dare you? I'll have you know that I'm French Open material."
She smirked. "Oh really, Mr. Crowne?" She leaned forward.
"You know it, Ms. Bruin," I replied also leaning forward.
"Okay," she said challengingly, dark eyes sparkling. "Let's test your tennis IQ. Since you brought up the French Open…where is it played?"
"Roland Garros," I said immediately.
"Damn," she said, frowning. "How'd you know that?"
"Next question, please," I smiled.
"Okay…what's ad in?"
"Hmm," I murmured thoughtfully. "I believe that happens during a deuce when the server has just won a point, and if he or she wins the next point the game is theirs."
She shot me a look that clearly said, 'You suck.' "And poaching?"
"When you approach the net in a diagonal direction to make a volley."
"What racket does Roddick use?"
"Babolat."
"Ugh, okay," Winter said, determined now. "What forehand grip does Marat Safin use?"
"What?" I exclaimed. "That's not fair. No one knows that kind of stuff."
"I do," she informed me sweetly.
"Only tennis freaks know those details," I chuckled. "Okay, you have me. What forehand grip does Marat Safin use?