by K. M. Shea
“Hey, Morgan.”
The speaker was a boy. A tall, lean guy with a track star’s build. His hair was silver. It was a nearly colorless shade of blonde that can only be achieved with the help of dye, but it glinted in the school’s fluorescent light. His eyes were a vibrant, forest-green color.
He was walking in the opposite direction of Brett and me, but he waved and smiled at me, as though he knew me.
I had never seen him before. (Believe me, that cute of a guy I would remember meeting.)
“Hi,” I lamely said, staring at the guy as he walked past me.
“Who was that?” Brett asked as I twisted around to peer at the cute guy.
“I have no idea. I don’t think I’ve met him before,” I said.
I didn’t think I said this very loud, but the silver/blonde-haired guy froze and whipped around. His green eyes were wide, and he stared at me as though I had slapped him.
Embarrassed, I quickly turned back around. “Okay, I gotta run, Brett.”
“Alright. See you in American Government.”
“Yeah, bye,” I said before hurrying away, anxious to leave the cute stranger behind. I waved to Brett and turned down a different hallway as my head buzzed like a bee hive.
“You will never, ever, remember meeting Dave Smith or Frey Christenson….”
I stopped in the middle of the hallway, a little lost in my mind. Why was I hurrying? And why on earth did I leave Brett behind? I just blew one of my very few chances to talk to my crush!
9
Never Remember Who?
My frustration only increased when I got to Spanish class. I was having serious problems remembering the last chapter of Spanish. I knew that Mrs. Allen was gone on maternity leave, but I couldn’t remember anything beyond that. Did we even have a sub?
“Hello, Morgan!”
I looked up from my Spanish textbook and stared. Some strange old guy was talking to me. I was a little weirded out by the fact that a perfect stranger was greeting me, but most of my attention was spent trying to not stare at his shock of red hair—which appeared to be cannibalistic and was slowly eating itself. As he laughed, his pudgy beer belly jiggled.
“Ready for another day of Spanish?” Weird Man asked.
“Umm,” I said, scooting back in my chair. Was this one of those creepy school invaders the principal was forever warning us about? Or was he just someone’s dad whose face I had obviously forgotten? I mean, the guy knew my name!
“I’m sorry, who are you?” I carefully asked.
Weird Man’s cheerful smile abruptly fell off his face. His skin went from pasty pale to ghost white, and without saying anything else he retreated to the doorframe and exchanged hissed words with someone in the hallway.
My friends, Samantha and Emily, edged through what little part of the door Weird Man didn’t occupy.
“Wonder what’s got Señor Smith so frazzled? Hi, Morgan,” Samantha said, stopping near my desk.
“Hey guys. Who?” I asked.
“Who who?” Emily asked, dropping her backpack on the ground.
“Who is Señor Smith?” I asked, glancing at Weird Man again.
“Señor Smith? Our sub,” Emily slowly and carefully said, pointing to Weird Man.
I frowned. “Since when?”
Samantha rolled her eyes. “Okay, it was weird when you pulled this memory fog thing yesterday, Morgan. But now it’s just bizarre.”
“What?” I asked again.
“Class, please be seated,” Señor Smith tightly said as he bustled back into the room and headed for the teacher’s desk.
Samantha and Emily shrugged and waved to me before going to their seats.
“Señor Smith, where’s Frey? We saw him in the hallway,” Samantha said, plopping down in her seat.
Who was Frey?
“He had some urgent business to take care of. Please open your books,” Señor Smith said, his eyes fastened on his teacher’s guide.
Spanish was a little tense. Señor Smith seemed to be worried about something. At least there was no homework. But when I left the Spanish classroom, my ears rang for a minute, forcing me to stop and lean against the hallway wall.
“You will never, ever, remember meeting Dave Smith or Frey Christenson….”
“Hey, Morgan, you okay?” Fran asked, finding me seconds later.
“…Yeah,” I said, wrinkling my forehead.
“What’s wrong?” Fran said, placing a hand on my shoulder.
“…I think I fell asleep during Spanish. I don’t remember much of class,” I said.
Fran patted me before hauling me off to my locker. “It happens to the best of us. Come on. Tell me how your day was?”
“Not too bad. Oh my gawsh, there was this really hot guy standing in the Peace Garden today, AND I got to walk with Brett to my second class!” I squealed.
“You saw him, too? The hot guy I mean, not Brett,” Fran said. “He was sitting on a bench in the Peace Garden when I came in early for a student council meeting this morning. He reminded me of a Greek god communing with nature or something,” Fran dreamily sighed.
“Really? I don’t think he was that hot,” I said, remembering my urge to slap him.
“Whatever. Your hotness detector is broken. I don’t know why you moon over Brett when Frey is hanging around you.”
“Who?”
“Oh, that’s right. Emily said you two aren’t talking. So, what are you doing this weekend?”
Wednesday morning the hot guy was not in the Peace Garden, an observation I made with a little sadness.
School proceeded like normal, until I went to my Spanish class. Our substitute teacher was this weird guy, Señor Smith, and we had a new (and very cute) student, Frey. When I asked some of my classmates who they were, they gave me really weird looks.
I dunno. Maybe they were introduced yesterday when I slept through class? But the weirdness was multiplied when class ended. I was leaving with the rest of my classmates when I remembered I had a question about the previous day’s homework assignment. Rather than elbow my way through the stream of students coming out of the classroom, I decided to wait just outside the door.
When the last kid left, I poked my head back through the door.
The new student was still there, sitting on a desk, talking to Señor Smith.
“So, she won’t remember meeting us? Ever?” Señor Smith said, rubbing some of his red hair.
“Nope. Every time she meets us, every time she sees us, she’s going to forget it as soon as we’re out of sight. Aisis reviewed her hypnotism notes and realized she messed up in the wording that directed Morgan to forget us,” Frey said.
“Excuse me?” I said, stepping into the room. The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.
“Ah, Miss Morgan!” Señor Smith said, his eyes widening as he plastered a large smile on his face.
“Relax. She’s going to forget this conversation as soon as she leaves the room,” Frey gloomily said. “We can say whatever we want in front of her.”
“Are they going to bring her in to fix it?” Señor Smith asked, turning away from me to properly address Frey.
“Um, you guys are talking about me, right?” I asked, standing right by the door. (This whole conversation was going south really quickly, so it was best to stand by the nearest exit for strategic purposes.)
“No, they aren’t going to do anything about it. Dr. Creamintin and Aisis decided this can probably be lived with if we take certain precautions,” Frey said, staring at his shoes.
“Like what?”
“I need to avoid all contact with her, and you need to announce that you are a sub every time you enter the room. They say our positions only need to last about a month. Then the teacher you’re replacing will return from maternity leave.”
“Ohh, that is totally easy to follow and everything will be OK. NOT!” Señor Smith shouted before pulling at his already thinning hair.
“Hey, could you like, stop
ignoring me?” I asked, still refusing to leave my post by the door.
“So that is a permanent state then?” Señor Smith asked, pointing at me with an accusing finger.
The new student waited for a few moments before replying. “Yeah. It is,” he said, his green eyes trained on me.
Señor Smith seemed to deflate. “How sad,” he said, his shoulders slumping.
“Hello? You guys can hear me, right?” I asked.
Frey sighed, a sound from deep in his chest, and slid off the desk. He walked towards me, the saunter of his gait reminding me of something…canine. I started taking steps backwards as he drew closer and kept moving until I was in the hallway.
Frey stopped at the doorframe and leaned against it. “I’m sorry, Morgan,” he said, very quietly. I had to strain my ears to hear him. “I thought it would be different if they erased your memories. If you didn’t remember Devin maybe…,” he trailed off and ran a hand through his silver hair. He looked up again and sadly smiled at me. “Goodbye, Morgan,” he said before closing the door.
I was totally confused. What the heck was he talking about? Why was my head suddenly—
“You will never, ever, remember meeting Dave Smith or Frey Christenson….”
…Why was I staring at the closed door of my Spanish room? I shrugged my shoulders before moving down the hallway. “Lunch time!” I cheered.
Yeah, Wednesday was a normal day.
Thursday was pretty normal too. I was looking forward to Halloween next week, and everyone was pretty happy. School passed by in a total blur; I couldn’t even really remember attending my Spanish class!
Brett seemed a little distracted in American Government class—well, to be truthful, he seemed sad. But I didn’t have time to take a lot of notice (yeah, yeah. I suck at paying attention to my crush) because I seemed to have lost my cell phone and assignment notebook right before American Government.
“Is something wrong, Morgan?” Hunter asked, putting down his newest leadership book to watch me shake the contents of my backpack out on the floor.
“I can’t find my cell phone. Or my assignment notebook,” I said, digging through the trash that fell out.
“I wasn’t under the impression that you used your assignment notebook. Ever,” Hunter said, blinking in the sunlight.
Today he wasn’t wearing his sunglasses—a momentous occasion. “I don’t, but I have lots of phone numbers and addresses in it. By the way, you shouldn’t wear your sunglasses so often. They hide your pretty eyes,” I said.
Hunter’s eyes were the sparkling color of amber and topaz.
Hunter chuckled and skated his finger across the screen of his smart phone. “Would you like me to get you a new phone?”
“What? Oh, no. It’ll pop up eventually. Is that what your family business is? A cell phone company?” I asked. (I was forever teasing Hunter because a driver in a suit comes to picked him up every day. He said it was part of the family business, whatever that meant.)
“Perhaps,” Hunter shrugged.
“You know…” I said, shoving my arm in my backpack to fish around. (My cell phone had to be crammed somewhere in there.) “Everyone is seriously going to believe those ridiculous rumors that you’re part of the mob if you don’t own up soon. What, is it an embarrassing business? I won’t laugh.”
Hunter grinned at me with perfect, straight white teeth. “It’s not embarrassing; it’s just difficult to explain,” he persisted. “I told you before: my family does a lot of importing and exporting.”
“Yeah, yeah,” I grumbled. “Go ahead and don’t share with your only friend,” I dramatized before growling. “Seriously, where is my cell phone?” I complained.
“I can have a phone to you by the end of the school day,” Hunter tempted.
I narrowed my eyes. “Your family must have money, how else could you just throw around funds like that? Are you dentists?” I asked. I had entertained that thought before—Hunter did have a stunning smile.
Hunter looked amused and picked up his book again. “It’s a trade secret.”
“Bully,” I declared. “That’s it. I’m not working with you for our next math partner project.”
“Really? Are you sure about that? Usually I have to explain the chapter to you,” Hunter said behind his book.
“Ah! And now you’re insulting my intelligence! Friend abuser,” I complained before tossing my backpack aside. “This sucks.”
“Do you want me to try calling you? You haven’t changed your phone number since we did our biology project together, have you?”
“No, I haven’t. And that’s okay. Fran already tried that for me,” I gloomily said, staring at my backpack.
“Don’t worry; it will turn up,” Hunter assured me.
“I hope so,” I muttered as our math teacher turned on the overhead projector, starting class and ending our conversation.
Hunter was right. Both my cell phone and assignment notebook popped back up in my backpack right before my last class.
But on an interesting note, the hot guy from the peace garden was there after school.
I saw him because I was headed for the public library to do some research for an American Government paper. (Yeah, I admit, early in the morning Brett told me he was going to swing by the library after school to pick up a book, so I was going there in hopes of running into him. Fran was going to meet me there after she finished up with some student council stuff.)
So, I left school through the front doors, and will wonders never cease, the hot Garden Guy was there. Although it was pretty cold outside, he wore only a light jacket, which wasn’t even completely zipped up. I could only see his profile. He was actually inside the garden this time, sitting on a bench.
As I approached the garden, he checked his watch, sighed, and got up, walking towards the sidewalk I was on.
His pace was perfectly set so he ended up walking almost directly next to me.
I glanced sideways and studied his face for a few moments before he looked up from checking his watch and caught me staring at him.
He gave me one of the dreamiest smiles I’ve ever seen.
I jerked my head forward and began blushing red. My heart was pounding in my chest, but there was also a sincere wish to punch him.
“Going to the library?” Hot Garden Guy asked.
“Yeah,” I squeaked, nodding my head. “You too?” I asked after an awkward pause.
“Yeah,” he grinned before glancing behind him. “I was waiting for someone, but I don’t think they’re going to show.”
Internally I wanted to lecture whatever person (a girl most likely) had stood him up. Looks like his shouldn’t be wasted! Unless my theory that he was someone’s older brother was correct?
We walked to the library in silence. Garden Guy didn’t do much besides tuck his hands in the pockets of his jacket and stroll along near me.
I waltzed into the library in a daze. (I wasn’t used to such attractive guys walking so close to me. I mean, Brett is cute in a “boy next door” kind of way. But Garden Guy could be a model.) Sadly Garden Guy disappeared shortly after reaching the library, and Brett never came.
Fran and I went out for ice cream afterwards, and I told her about my silent walk with Hot Garden Guy. We proceeded to theorize about his attachment to whoever went to our school before laughing ourselves silly.
Friday is always, without a doubt, my favorite day of the week. This Friday though…things got strange.
First of all, the day started badly. Michael’s girlfriend wanted to go to McDonald’s for breakfast, so we had to get up really early. And of course Michael didn’t want his kid sister tagging along on his date, so he dropped me off at school.
Did he drive up to the front and drop me off at the building? Noooo! He dropped me off at the beginning of our school drive, which is several blocks long. I normally don’t care about walking, but it was freezing outside, and the sun hadn’t risen up high enough to shine over the hill that’s in f
ront of our school.
It was a long, cold, and lonely walk.
I stalked the whole way there, muttering under my breath and looking like a wild woman, I’m sure. And there to witness it all from a bench in the Peace Garden was Garden Guy.
I didn’t notice him until I was nearly past him, grumbling and stomping angrily in my winter fashion boots. I stopped when I saw that he was watching me with a lazy grin.
“Hey,” he drawled.
“…Hey,” I said, staring at him.
At that moment, the first rays of the sun peaked over the hill, bathing Garden Guy in golden light.
I blinked a few times at the sight before realizing I was staring and that he obviously wasn’t going to say anything else. So, I started walking again, wondering what on earth he was doing on school property at this ungodly hour.
I stopped and turned around to stare at Garden Guy again.
He wasn’t even wearing a jacket today.
“Aren’t you cold?” I blurted out. Somehow I couldn’t be anything but blunt around this guy.
“No,” he said, shaking his head, which made his gorgeous mane flip. “I don’t get cold while I wait for this person. I could wait for them for a thousand years and never grow cold.”
“That’s a stupid thing to say,” I said before clasping my hands over my mouth.
Garden Guy got off his bench and ambled towards me, his pale yellow eyes glowing. “What gives you that impression?” he asked with his glittering smile.
“Because you won’t live for a thousand years in the first place,” I said, removing my hands from my mouth. “And obviously they stood you up yesterday after school. Why are you here so early, anyway? Hoping they’ll see you as they go in?” I asked, internally changing theories. One of the girls attending our school had to be his ex. There was no other reason a guy would go through such work.
“I can’t complain; she’s looking at me right now,” Garden Guy said, leaning slightly over me.