Not.
“I remember your name,” I say.
“Oh, I wasn’t sure if you did.”
Of course, I know your name. I haven’t stopped saying it in my head for the last two weeks. I can’t look pathetic. I shrug my shoulders, trying to act as though I haven’t been sitting here waiting for her to come through those doors. She points to my backpack. “Are you leaving?”
“Um… no… I-I was just g-going to get a drink,” I lie. Looking down, I notice she has a guitar with her, so I quickly change the subject. “You play the guitar?”
“Yeah, that’s why I couldn’t come the last couple of weeks. I’ve been busy. I thought I’d bring it to see if anyone wanted to mess around and play. Besides, I have my lesson after I leave here,” she says sweetly.
Her voice has played over and over in my head since I first heard her speak. With her softly spoken words, it’s as though each word flows with warmth and meaning. Like she cares about what she’s saying.
“Can you play, Jace?” she asks. I shake my head. I really love when she says my name.
Slightly embarrassed, I tell her, “No, I’ve never played one.” She tilts her head to the side, biting down softly on her bottom lip. I bet everything she does is done with care. Unless it’s football, that is.
“Oh, well, if you’d like, I can teach you,” she suggests. I nod my head, and we walk over to the tree that we stood under when we first met.
The guys call me over when we reach the tree. I look over at them. The last thing I want to do is go play with them and take time away from talking to Shay, but I know she loved playing football the last time. I want to give her the choice, even though I’d really like to have her teach me how to play the guitar.
Standing there, they wait for my answer. I turn to Shay, who is now sitting under the tree. “Do you want to play football again?”
“Well, I don’t care. I played at school today with my friend Cole, but if you want to we can.”
“No, n-no… I’m good. We c-can sit here,” I stutter, again. “Who’s Cole?” I ask and then immediately want to take it back.
She acts totally oblivious. “He’s my friend.” While sitting next to me under the tree, her leg touches mine. I look down between us, and she doesn’t move her leg from resting against mine. It makes me a little nervous, but not in a bad way. She smells so good. Taking her hair, she pulls it into a ponytail and sets it on one shoulder. Then with her long, dark eyelashes, she looks up at me. My stomach flip-flops a bit, and I swallow. “I started working on a song. I haven’t really worked on the words much. I’m still figuring those out, but I did write the music. Do you want to hear it?”
I’m a bit in awe. She’s only twelve, and she can already write music. That’s really cool. I’ve never met anyone like her before. “You write music?”
“I’m a songwriter.”
“Aren’t you young to be a songwriter already?” She takes her finger and puts it through her wavy hair. My eyes follow her. I’ve never really had a girl as a friend. I’ve always been more of a talk-if-I-have-to kind of kid. I really like this girl. She’s different. When she looks back up at me, she scrunches up her nose.
“Just because I’m only twelve doesn’t mean I can’t comprehend words. I know music.” She pauses. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.” She shrugs. Then her face softens. “How old are you, Jace?”
“I’m thirteen,” I tell her. “How old did you think I was?” I ask when she raises her eyebrows.
“I don’t know… I just thought you were older than that. We’re like practically the same age. You’re a teen, though,” she says. Now I’m scrunching up my nose in confusion. “I won’t be a teen until I turn thirteen. I’m still a tween.”
“What’s a tween?” I ask. She pauses, holding her guitar against herself, readying to play.
“A tween is when you’re stuck between a little kid and a teenager,” she answers. I can’t help the smirk that makes its way to my face. This girl is so adorable. “Are you ready to hear me play?”
“Yeah, definitely. Let’s hear it.”
She looks down shyly and starts playing the most beautiful music I’ve ever heard. Her small fingers flow effortlessly over the chords like she was born to play. Like she was made to do it. I just sit and watch, taking every string she touches to heart. It’s as though she is pulling at my heartstrings with every strum. She may only be twelve, but she plays like a grown-up.
“What do you think? It doesn’t sound depressing, does it?”
“No,” I say eagerly. “It was beautiful. I can’t believe you wrote that.”
“Well, it comes really easy to me, especially when something inspires me.”
“What inspired you?”
She looks at me with soft eyes. “Honestly, I don’t want to say yet. It’s kind of a superstitious thing for me with my writing. I need to get deeper in the process before I can reveal the inspiration. Sometimes, I start something and don’t finish it. Other times, it’s the only thing on my mind, and it comes out great.” She shrugs her shoulders. “I’ll let you know if this song will be a keeper.”
“Awesome. I can’t wait to hear it. I mean, if you stay with it and write the whole song.”
“I probably will. I don’t give up on things very easily. So, let me show you how to play. I’ll start with something easy for you. We’ll get to the harder stuff as we go along.”
I hope that means she will be coming to the center more. I can’t help but be really happy about that—something to look forward to every week in my depressing world.
She hands me her guitar. It feels awkward, so she helps me hold it properly. “Here, rest it against your lap.” I put the guitar on my lap so it’s resting on my leg. She looks up to me. “Does that feel comfortable?” I nod my head yes. Her face lights up, causing my stomach to flip-flop. “I’m just going to teach you a basic song. It only has three chords.” She takes her hand, placing my fingers where they’re supposed to be on the neck of the guitar. I watch her small hand next to mine. She still has a little flower painted on her pinkie nail. When she places her fingers where she wants them, she says, “Now, lay your other arm over and lightly start strumming.” Every time she wants me to switch chords, she presses her small finger down on top of mine. “Okay, press down on G again.” Her finger presses down on mine, and I strum. “You’re going to be a natural. This time I’m not going to help you. Try it on your own.” And I do, over and over again. A couple of hours later, I’ve mastered the song. I think I’ve impressed her with my skills. Hell, I impressed myself for never playing before. Shay puts her guitar away, as a pretty woman walks up to us.
“Time to go, sassy girl.” I look up and see a lady that looks a lot like Shay. There are differences, but I can definitely tell it’s her mom. Standing up, Shay smiles and gathers her guitar.
“Mom, this is Jace. I was teaching him how to play. You know, like a little mini lesson.”
“Well, Adam would be impressed, Shay.” She extends her hand to me. Standing up quickly, I reach out and shake it. I don’t think I’ve ever really shaken someone’s hand before. “Nice to meet you, Jace. I’m Melody Stark, Shay’s mom.”
“Nice to meet you, Mrs. Stark,” I say. She nods her head with the same pretty smile like Shay’s.
“We have to get going. Adam will be waiting for you.” Mrs. Stark looks back at me with soft eyes. “Shay will be back next Wednesday. I’m sure she would love to teach you another lesson.”
“Awesome. See you next Wednesday.” Shay gives me a little hug and walks away with her mom. She looks back and smiles, and my stomach does that flip-flop thing again.
Wednesday is my new favorite day.
One year later…
ANOTHER HOT OCTOBER day, but I don’t care, because it’s been one year today since I met Shay. It’s also the first time we will spend time together away from the center. My stomach crumbles through the excitement.
Waking up hungry isn’
t unusual, but lately I’ve had more of an appetite. I’ve told Grace that I’ve grown out of my clothes and need some new ones, but she pretty much blew me off. Thank God I can wear shorts all year long. There is no way I’m wearing jeans that are too short.
Hell no.
I pull myself out of bed after a restless night checking to see if Grace would stumble through the door. After countless trips to her room, I finally gave up and fell asleep.
“Mom.” She doesn’t answer. I walk to her room that is littered with clothes on the floor. “Mom, are you in here?” No answer.
Great, she didn’t even come home last night. I make my way back to my bedroom to get ready for school.
By the time I’m ready, I have just a few minutes to make a lunch for the field trip. There is nothing more than a few boxes of cereal. I’m not packing cereal. Screw it. I’ve got to go. I can deal a day without.
Even though we only have a half-day of school today, the bell can’t ring fast enough to get out of this place. I’m excited to get to the center. My eyes stay permanently focused on the clock above the teacher’s desk in the front of the classroom. I know they are leaving the center around one, so that doesn’t give me too much time to get there.
I’ve been anticipating this day all week long. After a year of sitting under a tree, Shay and I actually get to go somewhere together. We’re visiting the LA Zoo. I’m not really into zoos, but I will go anywhere gladly with Shay. I have about thirty seconds left before the bell rings. 5… 4… 3… 2… 1.
Finally.
Packing up my backpack, I crush all my loose papers as I shove my notebook inside it. Practically running people over, I make my way to the bus stop. I can’t miss it today. There is no way I will be able to get to the center in time to make the trip.
Landon stops me in my tracks as soon as I rush through the parking lot. “Where are you going? You look like you’re in a race for the finish line.”
I see the city bus coming up the street. With panic in my voice, I tell him, “I can’t talk. Can’t miss the bus.”
He looks at me, shrugs his shoulders, and with a loud laugh, says, “Damn, Jace. You’ll do anything to spend a minute with that girl.”
He’s right.
Ignoring him, I pick up my pace. There is one other person waiting at the bus stop. Thank God. If they weren’t here, the bus would have kept going. Completely out of breath, I collect the change in my pocket. Dropping it into the machine, I take the first seat available in the front, so I can exit quickly. I wipe my sweaty forehead and take a breath after unloading my backpack and placing the back of my head on the worn-out seat.
I’ve never really paid attention to the bulletin board in the community center’s lobby, but for whatever reason, the other day I glanced up at it while Shay and I were walking to the parking lot. I always walk out with her and Mrs. Stark when they leave the center. I like to watch her until I can’t see her car anymore. I showed Shay the flyer for the field trip, and she got so excited I knew we had to go. Her voice was cute with all the excitement, and her blue eyes were beaming. “I love the giraffes! They are so stinkin’ cute.” Yeah, I pretty much had to go. I can’t resist that sweet voice of hers.
The bus ride doesn’t take long, dropping me off about four blocks from the center. I jog, or rather sprint, the rest of the way. Exhausted, I make it to the parking lot just as the kids are being ushered into cars. I’m sure the center can’t afford buses, so thankfully, there are volunteers to drive us.
Shay is standing by an SUV with tinted windows. Near her is the same older guy that picked her up in a limo a year ago. She told me the only reason she was in a limo that day was because her brother’s car broke down, and her father sent a car to pick up her and her mom after her brother picked up her mom’s car.
Her hair is braided to the side, and she’s wearing almost the exact outfit she had on a year ago today. Only this time, her pink tank top doesn’t have flowers on it, and she’s wearing jean shorts, not jeans. She has on her ratty Converse, too. I don’t pay attention to what girls wear, but I always remember how Shay looks. She’s holding a bright pink backpack as she talks to her driver. I watch her. She turns away from him and starts walking toward me. It takes her just a minute to see me through the crowd of kids, and she waves.
I don’t know what it is, but every time I see this girl, everything wrong in my life falls off my shoulders. She’s my best friend… She’s more than that… I really care about her. I can’t explain what she means to me. Other than when I’m with her, I just know she means everything. The closer she gets, my heart speeds up, my stomach somersaults, and that all familiar warmth only she makes me feel surrounds me. “Hey, Jace,” she says, giving me a hug.
I hug her a little tighter, letting her warmth seep in. “Are you ready for the zoo?” I ask.
With a huge smile on her face, she sweetly says, “I’ve been excited all day.”
We walk toward the counselor that is separating everyone into groups. The younger one that volunteers here a lot calls out my name. I start walking, but hesitate. Shay puts her hands in the front pockets of her shorts and looks away. I don’t want to be separated from her, but my fear is confirmed when she gets called to another car. Before I even think, I blurt out, “I want to go in the same car as Shay.”
The guys waiting next to us laugh. “Someone’s got a crush,” they say together. I glare at each of them, letting them know not to mess with me. They know better; I can kick all their asses.
“Okay,” the counselor says. “You come with me.”
A little embarrassed, I look over at Shay, as she gives me a shy smile. Her hands make their way out of her pockets, and she brings her chapstick out with one hand, smoothing it over her lips. The act brings a smile to my face, and the familiar scent of coconut makes me happy. Always makes me happy.
We all put our belongings into the trunk, and Shay and I jump into the third row while everyone else piles in after us.
THE PARKING LOT is full when we pull into the zoo. I look over at Shay. “What is this… National Zoo Day?”
“That’s funny,” she says, laughing.
“What’s funny?” I ask.
“Jules and I always like to claim certain moments we have as national holidays. It’s absurd, right? We could never make a national holiday on our own.”
Damn, she is so cute.
“There’s a holiday for everything else. Why not give the animals one, too?” she says jokingly. I just smile at her.
Everyone piles out of the car. I’m glad it was a short drive because my legs were starting to cramp. When Shay gets out, I follow behind her and take a minute to stretch my legs. I’m starting to get taller. Last week, some nurses came to our school to check us for scoliosis, and one of them told me I would probably be around six-two, as I’m tall for my age.
Shay grabs her backpack and puts it on. “Don’t you need your backpack?” she asks me. I shake my head no. “Isn’t your lunch in there?” she questions.
“Um… No, I don’t have a lunch.”
“Did you forget to pack one?”
I don’t want to tell her I didn’t really have much to pack, so I just say, “I forgot this morning. I was in a rush for school.”
“Oh, okay. Don’t worry. I’ll share with you.” She smiles eagerly.
Changing the subject, I ask, “Do you want to go straight to the giraffes?”
“We don’t have to. They’re toward the end of trail.” She looks up from the zoo guide, giving me a questioning look. “Why would you think I’d want to go to the giraffes first?”
I shrug my shoulders. “You told me you love the giraffes,” I say softly.
“You remember that?”
“I don’t forget the things you say to me, Shay.” Her cheeks turn a slight shade of pink when I say it. I don’t know why, but she looks cute when she’s embarrassed. Her backpack slips off her shoulders, and she groans in a sweet, whispered tone while pushing it back up. “Here,
” I say, taking it off her back and throwing it over my shoulder.
“You don’t have to carry it.”
I smile down at her. “I want to.”
“Okay. Thank you,” she says. Her bright eyes soften as she grabs my hand. Everything inside me feels like it stops; even my heart feels like it skipped a beat. Although it’s a simple gesture, it’s the first time we’ve ever held hands. It’s the first time I’ve ever held anyone’s hand. I look down, seeing how small her hand looks in mine.
She feels perfect.
I hope to God I don’t have sweaty hands, but hers feels so soft and… I don’t ever want to hold anyone else’s. That might sound dumb, but I mean it. Her hand fits perfectly in mine.
Shay stops at the botanical garden, and I start reading the signs telling us what type of plant each one is. “This one is a butterfly bush.” Just as I finish reading the sign, a bird with wings moving so fast we can hear it flies up to the plant.
“Yes,” she says, “this is the same plant my dad planted for my mom. She loves watching the butterflies and hummingbirds feed off the flowers. There’s something fascinating about how fast their wings move. Did you know hummingbirds can’t walk, and they lay the tiniest eggs?”
“No, I didn’t know that. I don’t think I’ve ever really seen a hummingbird.” If Shay only knew that all I can think about right now is how fast my heart flutters, probably as fast as that hummingbird’s wings when she’s near me.
She looks up at me with expressive eyes, tilts her head, and says, “Now you’ve seen your first hummingbird.” I think my smile fills my entire face. She walks behind me, unzips her backpack, and grabs her cell phone. “Let’s take a picture,” she says happily. I stand there next to the bush. She scoots me over a little. “There, now we can see more of the flowers.” She stands really close to me and tries to take the picture, but her arm isn’t long enough. Once again, she groans sweetly. I look down and take her phone. “Yeah, you have way longer arms than me. You take it.” When I reach up to put the phone in front of us, she wraps her arms around me and leans in with a tight grip. I snap the picture. “Yay!” she says, grabbing the phone and going to the picture I just took. “Aw, that’s so cute.” I stare at the picture and see how we look together. I think it’s more than cute… I think it’s forever. We look perfect standing next to each other. I wish I had that picture. I’d stare at it whenever we’re apart.
Labeled Love Page 5