by J. P. Grider
I blink. This feels somewhat anticlimactic, considering all the spying and eyeballing he's done since he's moved here. Subconsciously, I back away while he does the same.
"Um...no," I answer, almost regretfully. Aside from his creepiness, I do find him uncommonly beautiful. But, I don't date. Never have. And the staring...it just seems strange.
"Oh," he murmurs, his hands dipping back into his pockets. "Ok." Still looking me right in the eyes, as if he is trying to read something in them, I avert mine, feeling way too weirded-out.
"Ethan," I pause. Not sure how to say this without insulting him, I try the direct approach. "If you're trying to, you know, get a girl's attention...well, gawking at them isn't exactly the most effective way of going about it."
He says nothing.
"Y'know, it can be kinda...creepy," I shrug.
His head nods once. "Yeah, sorry." He walks out the library door without uttering another word. I watch him now. He's getting into one of those new Mercedes C-class styles. A black one. Boy, my parents won't even think of buying me a car yet. And I turned seventeen six months ago. They say that since I'm only a junior in high school and have no job, there's no reason to have a car. The bus will get me where I need to go. If it won't, they will. Still, a car would be nice. Ethan's folks probably have none of those conservative rules that mine have.
When I return inside the library, three Jefferson cheerleaders are gaping at me, mouths wide open, face contorted in disgust. "You know him?" One tiny brunette asks, a disparaging tone way too apparent in her voice.
"Who? Ethan?" Playing dumb was probably the smartest way to go.
They cover their mouths with their hands as if they are twelve, and they pretend to whisper.
Attempting to ignore them, I return to my computer. From a distance, I can still hear them whispering.
"She is such a freak," the short one ridicules. "What could he see in her?"
"Oh, you know," a taller girl responds. "Her ridiculously long blond hair and her huge boobs," she continues mocking. "He's new. Once he gets to know her, he'll figure out she's a loser," she reassures herself.
This is one of the reasons I prefer being home schooled as opposed to being subjected to petty gossip and ridiculing. But Mom thought once I'd reached high school age, I should enter the public school system to socialize more. I really hate socializing. Not that I'm above it or anything, but it makes me anxious. Of course, my anti-anxiety meds don't help. I still get all those aches and pains too. It's just an overall unpleasant experience.
Since I can't stand gossip, especially when it's directed at me, I try really hard to ignore the three cheerleaders. Though the tiny one is giving off some horrible vibe that makes my bones hurt. But I just chalk it up to my anxiety...and a delusional mind.
Picking up where I left off on my essay is not an easy task. Once distracted, I can't easily jump back into what I was doing. Besides, I'm thinking about Ethan now. The warm sensation of his hand on my back still tingles where he touched. Disappointment sets in. I should have said yes. A date with Ethan Sutherland. I cannot help but wonder if I had made a huge mistake in saying no to going out with the bleach-blond god.
Chapter Three
The heaviness surrounding Miss James' classroom the following morning is unmistakable. Something is wrong. The principal is talking somberly with Mrs. Johnson, the substitute, when the bell rings. Though we aren't told to do so, the class sits silently for Mrs. Johnson to begin the curriculum. Instead, she starts with a grave announcement. Miss James would be out indefinitely. She has an inoperable brain tumor and is undergoing treatment to help shrink it down. Doctors are not sure if it will work, and her time may be limited.
The sinking feeling I had in my chest when I first walked into the classroom now feels like a lead weight pressing against it. My hand is instinctively drawn to my chest, where I hold it for the remainder of the period. Since Miss James is well-liked, the class remains pretty silent for the whole forty-eight minutes, absorbing this horrific news. I cannot help but think of Ethan's insolent comment two days ago to Miss James about getting an MRI on her head. He sounded so rude, but could she have taken him seriously and actually gotten one? Could Ethan have known about Miss James' brain tumor? Or was his flippant remark some kind of divine intervention? Maybe it was just a coincidence. I do not believe in coincidences myself. To every thing there is a purpose, right? Isn't that how the song goes? Or the Bible for that matter?
No, it isn't just a coincidence. Of that, I am certain.
What could have possessed Ethan, though, to point Miss James in the right direction...and possibly save her life?
I am so absorbed in my own thoughts, that I do not hear the period bell ring. Not until Ethan taps me on the shoulder do I even realize the room is empty – except for him and me.
"Hey, Honor, you okay?" Sincerity is entirely present in his voice.
I stand from my desk and grab my books, not bothering to put them in my bag. "Hey, Ethan," I say, my voice shaky and showing my unexpected nervousness. Suddenly I am very aware of Ethan's presence and the stirring excitement he has on me. Where this is coming from is beyond me. "Yeah, Ethan, I'm all right. Just sad for Miss James." My eyes stay fixed straight ahead of me while we walk to the next class. I am now too self-conscious to look at Ethan. Since my heart is beating as fast as the drumming in a heavy metal song, I don't know what I'd let him see if he looked me in the eyes.
"You really liked Miss James?" he asks, genuinely concerned.
"She was okay," I say, but I want to divulge so much more. How every day when I'd walk into her class my head would throb, and I'd get this overwhelming sadness for her. It is so hard to explain, I don't even know if I could. But in hindsight, I think I knew Miss James was sick. My heart keeps racing as I think about this, and my emotions are just so overwhelming that I cry – not just a few trickling droplets down my cheek –no… my tears gush like a river during a hurricane.
Ethan pushes me into an alcove right before I collapse onto the floor trembling. He drops to his knees and pulls me to his chest, holding me with one arm around my back and one hand cupped to my head as he presses me to him. "Shh, it's okay," Ethan whispers into my head. I feel his lips brush my hair, and now I'm filled with a different emotion.
I let him hold me while I pull myself together. Since I am now trying to figure out why Ethan's touch is causing a warm tingly sensation deep in my chest, my sadness for Miss James is slowly taking a back seat. The crying has stopped, so I use the back of my hand to wipe the stray tears. Ethan picks up on what I'm doing and uses his thumb to dry my other eye.
"Why are you being so nice to me?" I wonder out loud. I'd turned him down only yesterday, and here he is, comforting me.
"I like you," he breathes.
"You don't even know me." If he did, he’d think what every other student at this school thinks – that I’m a freak.
"I'd like to get to know you." We have now pulled away and are seated on the floor next to one another, our backs against the wall.
I pull my knees up to my chest. "Why? You'll soon find out I'm a freak and drop me as a friend anyway."
"A freak?" His eyebrows knit together.
I nod. "Yeah… a freak of nature."
He smirks, then smiles. "Now how could I ever believe that someone as beautiful as you are is a freak of nature?"
"That's what everyone else thinks." I look away, afraid he'll read through me and actually see the oddity that is me.
Ethan puts one hand on my knee and purposely turns me with his other hand to look him in the eye. One pair of violet eyes peering deep into another set. "Well…I am not like everyone else," he enunciates each word slowly.
That's for sure, I think…and then chuckle to myself, because only yesterday I thought of him as creepy. Today...he is my savior.
"What?" he asks, apparently catching my chuckle which I thought I had kept hidden.
"Nothing." I shake my head, now unable to take my e
yes off of him. It is as if he is holding me prisoner with his eyes.
We stay like that for several seconds before a hall monitor interrupts, "You two should be in class, no?" she reprimands.
"Yes, Ma'am," Ethan answers. While standing, he simultaneously pulls me up with him. "Sorry. We had a little...thing, and we were...sorting it out. We'll get to class." He takes my hand and walks with me like that to my next class, and I'm amazed that he knows where that is.
"How did you know I have English Lit?"
He laughs. "Didn't you just ask me, like, yesterday, in so many words, to stop watching you?"
Red blotches must be covering my face, because I feel flush. "Well, not...exactly, I just meant..."
"I know what you meant." He stops me. "And...," he looks down momentarily, "you were right, I shouldn't have been staring at you like that...and following you everywhere," Ethan admits.
A huge smile spread across my face. I could actually feel the corners of my mouth reaching my ears. "It's okay," I said. "Thank you."
"Anytime." He kisses my forehead. "I'll catch you later." Then he watches me walk into English. I know, because I turn and see him following me with his violet eyes. And I am not creeped out. I close my eyes for an instant and recall the feeling of him holding me just minutes ago. I touch my forehead where he kissed, not paying attention to the giggles of my classmates.
After school Ethan is standing at the bottom of the stairs outside the building. My heart does a little jump, and I get these little butterfly things in my stomach. He is smiling right at me as I slowly make it down. Part of me wants to slide down the banister to get to him more quickly, and part of me wants to walk backwards up the stairs, nervous to meet him. I still think it's creepy that he is everywhere I am, but he has intrigued me now. And I need to know him.
"Ethan, hi," I say, as I finally make it down the steep steps.
"I was wondering if I could drive you home...or to the library...if that's where you're going?" he asks.
"Um, yeah, that'd be nice, but, well, my mom should be here any minute. I mean…since I saw you yesterday at the library…I thought this afternoon was...cancelled."
"Oh, ok, maybe tomorrow?"
"Really?"
Ethan laughs under his breath. "Yes, really. Is that so hard to figure?"
Shifting from one foot to the other, afraid I'm looking stupid, I just shrug.
"It's a date," he confirms. "I'll drive you home tomorrow."
I nod. "Ok." My mom pulls up just then, and I hop in. As we drive away, I watch him watching me...and wonder what he's all about.
Chapter Four
After school the next day, Ethan is at the bottom of the stairs waiting where he stood the day before. Waiting for me. Again. But this time, I expect him. Yesterday, he said he would drive me home and today in Math, he reminded me about that.
"Hey," Ethan says as I meet him down the stairs.
"Hey." The fluttering, which stirred again last period, gets stronger, as if more butterflies decided to show up to dance inside my stomach.
"Y'goin' home or to the library today?" He asks.
"Library."
"Y'need to get there right away?" He tilts his head to the side. "Or can we take a detour?" Ethan winks.
"I have time." Since my wish was that we'd take the long way home anyway, I told my mom, I'd be late. Just in case. I have no idea why I am developing this small crush on Ethan. Only days ago he creeped me out. I shake it off.
"Awesome." He takes my backpack, then my hand.
The tingling begins inching up my limbs. I close my eyes for a second to concentrate on the warmth that spreads from his hand to my arm. This sensation is new for me. I've never been on a date before. I have never even liked a boy before this. At seventeen, I'm behind...just a little. That's the way I want it though. At least it was the way I wanted it. Until now. Until...Ethan.
He opens his car door, throws our backpacks in the back seat and motions for me to get in. His car has that new car smell, and the seats are crazy comfortable.
Not sure of what to say, I am glad when Ethan puts his iPod on. Plain White T's, Killer, is in mid-song. He must have been listening to it on the ride in this morning. We're not driving more than five minutes when he turns into Mahlon Dickerson Reservation.
"Mahlon Dickerson?" I wonder out loud why he's taking me to a hiking trail.
"Yeah, ever been?" His eyes stay on the dirt road.
I shake my head, then realize he may not see me shake it, "No, I've lived in Jefferson all my life but never thought of coming here."
Ethan pulls into a lot and shuts off the car. "C'mon, I'll show you around."
"Okay." My stomach is doing flips; I've never been alone with a boy.
The silence is beautiful when I step out. Ethan circles the car and takes my hand again. "C'mon, I wanna show ya somethin'."
He leads me up a long path where chipmunks and squirrels scurry past us. In the distance, I can hear crickets and tree frogs. Nature's music, I think to myself; a quiet, earthy song. It is so serene that I feel no pain at all. Not even an ache. The woods open up to a small glistening lake.
"Oh, Ethan, it's wonderful here."
He squeezes my hand, "I thought you'd like it."
"I do." I whisper, wondering why I'd never come here before, when I live so close.
"I found this place my second day here."
Ethan climbs up a huge rock, pulling me along with him. We reach the top and Ethan sits. Since he is still holding my hand, I bend to sit as well.
"How long have you been here?" Suddenly I feel stupid for asking that, since he only started coming to class last week.
He grins, probably thinking the same thing. "About two weeks."
Nodding, I want to crawl under the rock we are sitting on.
"Where do you live?" I figure that's an all right question.
"An apartment on Berkshire Valley."
"Oh."
"So." Breaking the sudden awkwardness, Ethan talks. "I come here almost every day...to be alone."
"Really?" I ask, surprised another teenager seeks to be alone. It makes me feel...not quite so alone. I laugh to myself.
"Yeah." He looks at me. His intensity is so strong, I think he's trying to silently convey something.
"Oh," I cringe, not sure of what to say and nervous I'll say the wrong thing.
"I like to be by myself," he admits. "That's when I'm most comfortable." Again, his violet eyes search mine for some kind of reaction.
"Do you like to be alone, Honor?" He inquires, his tone serious, and I wonder what he is trying to get out of me. It's odd, but he's searching for something from me. I can feel it.
I swallow my suspicions and nod.
"Being a loner is a way of life for some, Honor; nothing to be embarrassed about."
I let go his hand, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. Can he read my thoughts?
"What's the matter? Did I offend you? I'm sorry. I...oh, never mind."
I take in the beauty of the lake and ignore Ethan.
"Honor," he persists. "Look at me." His fingertips touch my chin.
Electric sparks release throughout my body. I turn to face him. "Ethan," I quaver; I'm so on the verge of tears right now. He knows I'm a loner. A freak. And he's only been here two weeks.
His smile is tentative; his shoulders rise and fall. "You just seem," he shakes his head, "not too different than me, that's all." He reaches for my hand again.
My bottom lip hurts from biting it so hard; I'm so anxious. Though everyone calls me a loser or a loner, I'm not sure I really want Ethan to know this just yet. He's been watching me, yes, but I really did hope my freak-show self would fly past him...like two hundred miles per hour, so he couldn't see it.
"Honor," Ethan presses seriously, "there's nothing wrong with appreciating solitude. I crave it."
I drop my head but realize he is sincere. He doesn't think it's freakish to be alone. I stop biting my lip and smile. My heart fills wi
th warmth, and my face feels flush beneath my skin. Feeling more comfortable, maybe more at ease than I should, I decide to open up. "Do you know why I choose to be alone?" I barely feel the question on my own lips.
A mere nod of his head encourages me to continue. "When I'm around people," I bite the inside of my lip again and inhale a lot of air, "I hurt."
"You hurt," Ethan states; he doesn't ask. There's no surprise in his voice nor is there condescension. It's strange.
"Yes, I hurt," I hesitate to continue, but I do. "My head throbs, my bones ache, my chest hurts." I could go on, but I don't want to sound like I'm complaining or anything. That isn't the impression I want to give him. "It's all good, though...why do you like to be by yourself?" In an effort to distract Ethan from my story, I turn the tables.
"Did you ever figure out why you hurt?" He continues on about me.
I shake my head, wishing I never opened up. "Listen, let's just drop it. I'd rather hear about you." I shrugged.
"You would, would you?" He gives me the most alluring smile; glittering violet eyes and all.
There is no possible way I could not melt in front of him. Oh my god, he is so gorgeous. A smile back is all I can muster.
"Well," he begins, "I'm from Pennsylvania...I'm a loner, as you already know. My family is...everywhere. None of us stick together; we all go our separate ways...brothers, cousins, everyone."
"What about your parents...you live with them?"
Ethan's eyes dart to the ground, and his peaceful expression changes. "They're dead."
"Oh, Ethan, I'm sorry."
His smile is back, but his eyes betray it. "No worries. It's all good." He squeezes my knee. "Isn't that the expression you used?"
"Hmmm." This bothers me...a lot. I all of a sudden feel a stabbing in my chest, but I don't let on. "But...who do you live with?"
His eyebrows rise. "Myself."
Chuckling, I elbow him in the side. "No, really."
"Really, Honor. I live by myself." He shrugs. "Besides, I'm eighteen, you know."