He says with a soft laugh, “Why is that?”
I hold my breath while he raises his eyebrows in genuine surprise.
“Because I am not good at talking to guys. I generally try to avoid them. Most of them aren’t worth the time. Anyway, I like being alone,” I quickly respond while averting my eyes this time, embarrassed by how jaded that sounded. This is why I don’t talk to most people. I’m not gifted at sharing what I’m thinking, and I’m definitely not one to share what I’m feeling. It tends to come out all wrong!
He doesn’t reply. Maybe he doesn’t want to talk to the crazy girl next to him? I did kind of insinuate that I didn’t want to have company of any kind. He just lets me quietly take out my binder and books in awkward silence, and then I start on my homework.
Trying to make amends for my rude behaviour, I ask, “So where did you transfer from?” The question makes it obvious that I had been asking about him, but I try to extend an olive branch anyway. Luckily he ignores the obvious implication.
“Kansas, in a small area named Lincoln. My dad was a dairy farmer but sold the farm and took a job out here. So here we are. I’m not sure I like it though. It’s a completely different world. Too many people, too many crowds.” He finishes his rant in a near whisper, almost like he regrets admitting it.
“Well, I have lived here my whole life, and I still don’t fit in, so don’t worry too much. You’ll get used to it.” He has no idea how much I don’t fit in. I pretend to be normal. I look like a normal girl and talk like a normal girl, but I know I am far from normal. I have experienced too much, and as much as I hate to admit it, it sets me apart. I can feel it.
“What year are you anyway? Maybe when you graduate you could go back to Kansas for college?”
“I am a junior.”
I sit there shocked. There’s no way he is that young, but I leave my comments to myself in case he was held back a grade or something.
He continues, kindly pretending not to notice my brain malfunction, “What are you doing after you graduate?”
I have always avoided this question simply because of the fact that I have very few options. My mother and stepfather could care less what I do, and I’m pretty sure my dad and stepmother don’t think I am smart enough for college despite my 3.8 GPA and perfect attendance. So my dad has been trying to talk me into cosmetology school lately. Oh joy.
“I’m not sure yet. I have been looking into cosmetology schools or starting at a community college before transferring to a four-year.” If I have to pay for my own schooling because my parents could care less or think I am dumb, then community college is my only choice without scholarships or serious student loans. But it is still embarrassing to admit in a school like High Ridge where everyone is rich.
“I’m Reed by the way.”
I know.
“I’m Dannie,” I say with a tight smile, still thinking about my embarrassing confession.
Reed looks at me like he wants to say more, but he simply replies with a smile. We both continue with our homework side by side in relative silence. Occasionally he asks a question about history, and occasionally I sneak sidelong glances of his serious expression while he reads his textbook. All and all, it’s a successful beginning of a new friendship. I smile to myself, satisfied, while I try to keep in mind that this can only ever be a friendship. I have too many secrets for anyone to really care for me, and I refuse to tell anyone those secrets. Friendship is all this will ever be.
Reed is definitely not the type of guy who likes girls like me, the quiet, bookish type who come with serious baggage—like a conveyer belt of baggage. But I don’t need to divulge that to a casual friend, and I have no problem putting myself in the friend zone. None at all.
Liar!
I struggle while trying to convince myself that I don’t need anything more than friendship from Reed. Men are far too much trouble to be anything more than friends anyways. I have to accept the fact that I will be alone for the foreseeable future, maybe forever, and that’s okay.
New friend: check!
I haven’t been able to get the dark-haired girl out of my head, out of my dreams, out of my sight. It’s driving me nuts! I keep finding myself looking for her in the cafeteria, taking every opportunity to glance at her, but I have never worked up the nerve to sit next to her at lunch.
I’m distracted by her constantly. I try not to sit at her table again in the library so that I don’t freak her out, but all I want to do is stare at her the whole time. I’ve caught her looking at me numerous times, but it’s not necessarily with a look of interest. This girl is like a closed book ironically. She gives nothing away. She has no tell. She keeps glancing at me but never smiles, so I get the impression that she doesn’t like me for some reason. But then why does she keep looking? Does she think I’m gonna tackle her unexpectedly or something?
I made up my mind to talk to her today though. Enough is enough. Time to grow a pair, Reed. Just do it! I intended to invite her politely to sit at the table with me, but of course my mouth has a mind of its own and makes me sound like a tool instead. I unfortunately suffer from having no filter. It’s a serious problem. It’s a horrible condition because of which I constantly sound like a dick.
So what comes flying out of my mouth? Do you really want to know? Here it comes … “I don’t bite.” Who says that?
Douche bags, that’s who!
Regardless, I was shocked as hell, and more than a little pleased, when she sat down next to me. Sitting close to her was intoxicating. She was directly beside me so I could feel the heat from her arm right next to mine. I realize how ridiculous it sounds to be excited over such small a thing as body heat, but hey, I’ll take what I can get from her. I feel like I won a huge victory, and I am trying like hell to keep a stupid grin off my face.
We make small talk, but she looks increasingly uncomfortable sitting next to me. She starts to fidget, and then to my surprise, she admits to not being good at talking to guys. I’m floored. How does a girl who looks so beautiful not know that she doesn’t need to talk to guys to get their attention? The sight of her sitting still would be enough to get my undivided attention. Maybe Californian guys are different with their skinny jeans, hair gel, blonde girlfriends, and poor manners. I don’t know. I see plenty of guys check her out whenever I see her, so they can’t be completely blind. Although they mostly look at her body and then move on to the next. Seeing them look at her that way seriously makes me consider thumping them in the head, but she seems completely oblivious to their ogling. Thank God!
Dannie. Her name is Dannie. I wonder if it is short for Danielle. I think the name suits her perfectly; it’s simple and pretty, just like she is. I don’t care if that makes me sound like a love-struck fool.
It also gives me a bit of a rush that although she doesn’t usually talk to guys, which is a good sign in my opinion, she is still willing to talk to me. Makes me feel like a champ. I can suddenly smell her perfume again, snapping my focus back to reality. I can feel her hair brush against my arm while she turns her head to grab another book in her bag. I make my hands into fists in my lap so I don’t try to touch her. I pretend to read while all I can think about is how I can see more of her, talk to her, and be something to her because she has quickly become something to me.
It’s adorable that every time I’ve seen her between classes or at lunch, she has a book grasped in her hand. And how she watches people and listens to them so intently. I don’t think most people notice that when they speak to her, they have her full and complete attention. I like how when I’ve seen her read in the library, she laughs out loud at funny parts, tears up at the sad parts, and bites her nails when it’s suspenseful. It is as if the story is real to her, and she is completely unaware when she does it. It’s definitely something worth watching, and I find myself captivated by her constantly.
The rest of our time in the library we both focus on completing schoolwork. I silently try to control my mind and keep my eyes f
rom wandering. I fail more than I care to admit.
I realize after the first few days of school that the girl Dannie sits with at lunch, the one with the tattoos and piercings, is in my calculus class. I hope we get the opportunity to talk to one another, mostly so I can get the inside scoop on Dannie. Becoming friends with her friends is a concept that has never hurt a guy’s chances. I try to be especially polite whenever I see her. Melody is her name—a name that is so sweet for someone who looks like she could rip your balls off. She scares me a bit, but she always smiles when I say hello, so she can’t be too bad.
By the time I get home, I feel like I am bursting at the seams with elation. I go straight to the kitchen, grabbing a bag of Munchies on the way, and sit on the stool in front of my mom. She’s cooking over the stove while talking on the phone to someone like it’s any other day, but it’s not any other day to me. I feel different. I feel the effect of Dannie.
My mom turns, knowing that I am sitting, eating, and waiting for her to get off the phone, but instead of a smile, she gives me a funny look. Is there something on my face?
I swipe my mouth with the back of my hand. Nope, nothing.
“How was your day?” she asks, putting down the phone.
It was probably a conversation with dad or maybe one of the aunts.
“Good … Yours?” I ask slowly, wondering why she keeps giving me sideways glances, as if she’s in deep thought.
She begins chopping veggies. “Something’s up. You’re looking like you’re about to jump clear outta your skin.”
Mother’s intuition is a crazy thing. How does she know? I’m just gonna say it.
“Mom … I met the girl I’m gonna marry …” I wait for her to reply while holding my breath, but all she does is look at me blankly.
“Did I hear that right?” she says slowly.
“Yup.”
She seems to consider my words for only a moment before responding with, “Okay then.” She smiles warmly and keeps chopping vegetables.
Well, that went better than I thought it would.
Sleep continues to elude me. I keep having nightmares so regularly it’s getting harder to ignore them. But tomorrow’s a new day, I think happily, and luckily, it is better than the previous one. So is the day after that, and the day after that—no fights at home, no arbitrary punishments, no creepy guy watching the house in the dark. Altogether, it’s been as normal as my life can be.
Each day, I see the girls, glad that they’re my saving grace. They have no idea how much I rely on them for normalcy. Every day, I see Reed in the library, and we chat while working on homework together. Some days, we talk about his hometown or his plans for college. We seem to have become fast friends. I don’t think I can help it. He is a person you can’t help but like and respect, but to my own disappointment, I find myself looking forward to seeing him. I even find myself looking for him at lunch or in the hallways, hoping to see green eyes.
I’m hopeless.
Soon enough, the weekend is approaching, and the first football game is commencing. The whole town is excited to watch High Ridge football.
“So what are we going to wear?” Jem yells, running to catch up.
Melody and I smile back at her while walking to our lockers after school, glad for some normal teenage angst.
“Something scandal worthy?” I joke, wiggling my shoulders.
“Really?”
“No.”
“Danielle Lee, you’re a tease. My house, right now, we have to get ready and look hot!” She smacks both of us on the backside while walking past us to her car. Suddenly, she stops dead in her tracks as she notices Reed turning the corner, cluelessly walking in our direction and straight into a trap. She looks back with a devilish grin.
No!
“Hey, it’s Reed, right?” He snaps his head in our direction and freezes. He glances at me, heat rising in his face, turning him a deep shade of red.
“Yeah.” He turns toward her stiffly.
“Sooo, are you coming to the game tonight? It’s a really big deal in this town. Everyone will be there, so it will be a great place for a new kid to meet people. Ya know, socialize?” She tilts her head to the side, giving him an innocent smile.
She’s really chummin’ it up, isn’t she?
He is obviously confused as to how she knows him. He is squinting as if trying to figure out if he’s even seen her before. Melody gives him a sympathetic smile, and of course, I freeze, hoping he doesn’t figure out she only knows him because of my big fat mouth. His gaze slowly slides toward me. He must have figured it out.
I’m so lame.
Friends, just friends, I tell myself silently, but I’m pretty sure I’m in denial about what it means to be “just friends.”
“You can sit with us if you don’t know anyone else.” Jem is practically bouncing as she talks, and I’m holding my breath.
He looks a little shocked but recovers and replies politely, “Sure. Thank you. What time is it at?”
“Six is the JV game. We will be there then.”
“Okay, thanks, I guess I will see you ladies then.” He looks at me as we walk past each other.
Dude, really? I glare at Jem as she gives me a triumphant smile. However embarrassed I am by her antics, I am equally excited to see Reed tonight.
I am hopeless.
After two hours, we are curled, hair-sprayed, polished, and finally ready. I am in the tightest pair of skinny jeans I own, matched with a lacy top and ballet slippers, while Jem and Melody both are teetering in sky-high heels. They are braver women than I.
We decide ordering pizza would be the best way to pass the remaining time until the game. Jem only lives about a mile away from school, therefore we have time to kill before we leave. Jem’s house is like a second home to Melody and me, so we all lounge comfortably, gossiping about school while stuffing our faces.
Melody has a difficult relationship with her parents, and well, I would rather live in a box than continue to live at Mark’s house, so we are both grateful to have a place that feels like home, a place that feels safe. Jem’s parents are the type of people who are always picking up stray children who have nowhere else to go and welcoming them into their home with love. Needless to say, their home has a constant revolving door to children in the community.
I love it here.
I feel my heart start to pound as I suddenly see a familiar truck driving up the lane. Problem commencing! I was really hoping to avoid this. Right as we are getting ready to leave the house, my ex walks through the door, followed by his minions. I freeze automatically, trying not to draw his gaze.
“Hey, where are you girls going?” He smiles knowingly at his sister, as Jem gives me a quick and worried glance.
I just try to give her the most sincere smile I can, but I know I fail miserably. No one answers as he continues, “We are heading to the game tonight. We won’t be here long …” Then of course he turns to me. “S’up, slut,” he says as his eyes grow ominously dark.
I simply ignore him and walk toward the door, the girls following me quickly. He started calling me “slut” right before we broke up, as if it were a cute thing to say to your girlfriend. How could I have known the boy who had been a good friend would eventually treat me like the dirt on his shoes once I was his girlfriend? I couldn’t have. Yet somehow, I’d like to think being around Mark would have given me enough reason to be more skeptical of men.
Apparently not …
“We’ll see you girls there!” he shouts after us as he bursts into laughter.
Great. I am glad I am walking away so he won’t see the tears I am holding in. Don’t you dare cry! No more tears for men who are undeserving, Dannie.
When we arrive at the stadium, I feel better the moment I see Reed waiting at the ticket line. He smiles as we walk up, and I realize he’s looking directly at me. Boom. My heart is suddenly pounding. Yes, I do feel much better.
I shyly smile back, failing to hold his gaze. �
�Hi. I am glad you came,” my mouth says before my brain catches up.
“Me too.” He looks at me while speaking, and we stand for a suspended moment, staring at one another, not knowing what else to say.
“Anyways …” Jem clears her throat, smiling, successfully snapping us out of our moment. “Sooo lets go in, shall we?”
She and Melody start walking ahead, leading us to the home stands, while Reed and I fall behind side by side.
“Thanks again for inviting me. It would have been awkward coming alone … although I think I would have because I really love football.” He smiles broadly, stunning me momentarily. While he is obviously trying to strike up a conversation, I appreciate him taking the initiative. This is new territory for us so I’m a little unsure how to proceed. Our previous encounters in the library generally have always centered around homework with the occasional personal question. This will be the first time we are together in a social setting, so things can quickly become awkward if I’m not careful.
“Why didn’t you try out?” I suddenly ask.
“I’ve never played. We didn’t have a team where I am from … Not enough people ’n’ all that, but I play hockey … I am actually pretty good … Must have been all those figure skating classes.” He smirks at me in such a way that I have no idea if he is serious or not.
We shuffle through people, attempting to find good seats, but when we find Melody and Jem, I notice they are conveniently sitting at the end of a row, leaving only enough space for Reed and me to sit quite cozily at the end. Oh, those girls. Although I’m secretly glad at this moment they are being nosy on my behalf. That’s what friends are for, right?
Turning back to Reed, I ask, “Figure skating, huh?” as we sit closely on the cold bench.
The Face You See Page 4