by Anne Eliot
“Sounds good.” She beams up at Patrick, pulling off her glitter-infused beanie and hands it to Patrick. “If we’re to be friends, then you’ll be needing one of these so you can be in our wee-little tigers club.”
“Please don’t call it a club. We are not starting a club. Not even close.” I grimace.
Patrick’s slowly turning the beanie, examining the glitter lodged in the knit before saying, “And for the record, here in Canada, no matter how charming it sounds rolling off your Irish tongue, the word ‘wee’ actually means pee. So. Yeah. Um. No…just no?”
I laugh. “Please know Patrick’s the king of inappropriate.”
Laura laughs. “Well for the record, I’ll be sure to use that wee-little word more now. Just to-be-making you cringe. Now put the wee-beanie on your wee-head.” She giggles.
Patrick’s grinning at her now but still acting like he’s been slightly drugged. “I couldn’t take your hat. It looks so perfect on you. And no way is this going to fit…because my head’s anything but…wee.” Patrick tries to hand it back as she pulls another one out of her bag and shoves it on her head.
“Go on and at least try.” She blinks up at him. “I bought a few extra after school yesterday to send home to friends and I didn’t take them out of me bag last night.” She pulls her curling bangs down so they are peeking out the front of her new hat.
“Yes, Patrick. Go on. Put it on,” I taunt, wiggling my brows at him.
Patrick shoots me a look and stretches the beanie over his huge head. It takes him less than two seconds to start scratching at his forehead. It also looks so tight I think it could cut off the blood circulation to his brain—if he has any left since he fell in love—that is.
“It’s made for you!” I add, about to crack up. “And you look kind of cute with glitter on your cheeks.”
“Shut it, Thumbelina,” he says, taunting me back.
“Hey! She doesn’t like to be called that.”
We all look to see Cam striding up the sidewalk from the bus stop wearing the same beanie. And grinning. At me. My heart drops into my lungs.
“What are you doing here, Patrick?” Cam asks.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Patrick answers Cam over my head. “Ellen didn’t want to wear her fancy tiger hat to the bus stop all by herself so she called me along for moral support.”
“Would you look at the four of us being so adorable?” Laura grins between us all, clapping her hands.
Cam raises a brow at Patrick’s head. “Looks completely awful on you, dude.”
“About as good as yours?”
“I know, right? I’m hideous.” Cam turns his smile at me again like he’s really happy to see me, just like yesterday. I take in his long, gray skateboard shorts, tattered Cons, and a darker gray fleece hoodie and note that the tiger beanie looks perfect with this outfit and on him. Well, of course it does.
I work to hide my fan-girl sigh.
*Rose petals, doves, and the sinister cherubs make a big reappearance, shouting, “Ready. Aim. Fire.”*
Cam’s eyes are dancing between us as much as Laura’s are. “I also didn’t want to be down at the stop wearing this sucker all by myself so I came up here looking for…partners in crime.” His gaze skims softly over my face again. “You could have texted me to come up and walk with you.”
“I could have?” I blink, and then flip it around. “Oh. I mean, sure. I could have. But you could have texted me you were coming up also…so…”
“Oh, yeah, right. I should have. Next time.”
I nod.
“You two—text? Each other?” Patrick’s brows shoot up. “Since when?”
I don’t answer, and Cam shrugs, acting as if we text all the time.
Laura says, “Yesterday, probably. We all got assigned this huge group project together.”
“You did?” Patrick’s frown darkens.
My turn to shrug, mostly so I can avoid Patrick’s expression. The one that says he’s hurt that he has no idea why Camden Campbell is even standing next to us talking especially when we’d had the whole morning to talk about it.
The one that says his feelings are hurt that I didn’t tell him about this. Unaware there is tension in the air, Laura slings her arm into Patrick’s. “Perfect. This means daily handsome escorts for the two of us, Ellen. How chivalrous and lovely. Patrick, shall you also come to this stop every day?” She beams, eyes going all round and soft. “We’ll be the power of four!”
“How can I say no to you with that accent, Laura?” Patrick’s voice has gone softer than ever and his expression shifts to her hand on his arm.
Cam beams. “She’s so cute, isn’t she?”
“Beyond,” I say.
“Aww—you all are making me fall in love with Canada and I didn’t even want to like it here.”
My heart twists for Patrick’s befuddled expression and I wonder if Cam and I have the same expression on our faces when we look at Laura—like we just swallowed a whole field of daffodils.
I’m sure we do.
Does Laura’s boyfriend back in Ireland feel the same as we all seem to feel about her? I wonder if this feeling gets bigger if you’ve known her longer? If so, he must miss her terribly. Poor guy is probably a complete mess and messaging her on Facebook nonstop.
And poor Patrick. He’s doomed. Who could ever fall out of love with Laura London?
Patrick glances between me and Cam as though he’s just realized the two of us are still here. Then he glares as though he’s remembered he’s angry at me, but before he can say anything Laura drags him ahead. “Come on, then. Or we’ll be missing the bus.” Laura’s wide smile stretches across her face as she bathes us all in her happy light.
“Any photos today?” Cam asks.
I can only shake my head.
Patrick glances back as though he’s unsure if he should leave me walking alone with Cam but then as Laura speaks again, he’s gone.
Cam hits me with another glance and I respond by looking away fast.
He and I are acting worse than Patrick did when Laura arrived.
But what am I supposed to say? Why did it seem so easy last night to text amazing questions and topics to him? Yet today, with the sun shining overhead, I’ve got nothing.
*Wonders if it would be wrong or right to text him right now instead of ever speaking again?*
“Crush?” Cam clears his throat.
“W-what?” My eyes shoot to his face.
He flushes and shakes his head, pointing ahead, “Patrick. On Laura. It’s so obvious, right?”
“Oh. He’s got it bad.” I have no idea how I managed to speak without a waver in my voice. “I have to find out her boyfriend deal.”
“Yeah,” he says, never taking his eyes off mine. “It would be good to know the situation.”
I try to keep the conversation going so I add, “I brought your track jacket back. But…”
“What?” He bites his bottom lip. “You ate all the candy?”
“Not all but…they’re addicting, aren’t they?” I flush.
“Yep.” He laughs and reaches into his pocket and produces a new pile of foil wrapped treasures for me to see. “I’ve got thousands of them. Mom ships them to her stores. I steal them out of a box she keeps in her office. She’s addicted, too.”
We’ve rounded the corner. I look past Patrick and Laura, who’ve turned to face us and freeze in my tracks without thinking, which sets me off balance. Before I can try to react or try to find Patrick’s shoulder to grab, Cam’s got his arm around me and he’s pulled me close. I close my eyes, wondering what the kids at the bus are thinking.
Wondering what Cam’s thinking. Well…whatever. At least I’m not flat on my face, so it has to be better thoughts than yesterday?
> “Ellen?” Cam asks. “Ellen? Are you going to smile or what?”
Laura’s next. “Come on, Ellen. Stop fooling around. I want some good shots before we join the crowd.”
I open my eyes to see that Laura’s pulled out her odd, Euro smart-phone/tablet hybrid-camera thing. She’s standing there, facing us, and tapping her foot as though she’s being extremely patient.
“You can close your eyes and joke around on the next ones.” She snaps a bunch of shots of me, Cam and Patrick. “My mom wants to see who I’m hanging around with and I can’t have you looking all crazy.”
“Oh. Right. Sorry,” I say, forcing my smile to be as natural as possible.
Laura finishes a few shots and darts in between me and Cam and hands the phone to Patrick. “Take like ten selfies with that long arm of yours, please? Can you fit us all in?”
“No problem.” Patrick obliges and holds out his arm, snapping away.
I realize none of our bus-stop audience caught that I was about to fall. Then I also wonder if Cam knew I was going down, or if he’d simply stopped to pull me in and smile at Laura’s camera at just the right time.
Laura’s checking the shots and her smile is getting wider by the second. She shouts out, “We’re flipping brilliant! A-double-dorable. Really. Perfect. The wee-beanies photograph so well. My mates back home were worried about me, so I’ll be using these to make sure my boyfriend, Casper, and all my friends can see that I’m not just sitting at home and crying.” She sighs, continuing on, “Even though every second I haven’t been with you, I have been sitting at home and crying.”
“Well…that’s about to stop.” Patrick frowns. “Who names their kid Casper?”
“I adore his name. He’s from Leeds! A Brit. His accent’s simply purrrrfect and gorgeous. Just like he is. You’d like him.”
“I like how you say the word perfect.” Patrick evades, mimicking her accent but shooting me a desolate ‘shoot-me-Ellen-I’m-so-depressed’ look.
I’ve been tracking Bella-Jane, Tanner, Paige and Jennie’s expressions this whole time. They’re frowning so darkly at the four of us approaching, it’s like they’ve got their own storm cloud brewing. Bella-Jane is literally shooting lightning bolts of sheer scorn. So much so, I feel slightly ill. But then I catch that they’re all wearing the same beanies we’ve got on! More surprising? I think Cam knew they would be dressed like this because he’s nodding at them all approvingly and says, “Would you look at all this tiger awesomeness going on!”
To confirm my suspicions, Laura’s grinning at Cam like they had some sort of secret plan to get the whole school to wear these beanies. “Well, Mr. Campbell. You said we’d be trendsetters and you were right!”
Cam laughs and I feel his eyes traveling over me as he tightens his arm around my shoulders. “None of us can get out of this now.”
Laura laughs and my chest starts pounding. Instead of removing his arm from my shoulders, Cam brings me slowly closer to him like he thinks I’m going to try to run. Because I would. If I could. Oh…I would.
I decide this has to be some twisted prank. Like the beginnings of one of those high school horror films. I saw the movie, Carrie. Heck I saw both versions of that movie.
I’ve also seen Mean Girls and Cruel Intentions more than once so I know how this whole story ends. The dorky, outsider girl gets destroyed inside and out.
Worse, I’ve got no supernatural powers that would—at the very least—allow me some sort of twisted, fire-filled vengeance moment at the end.
*Closes eyes. Screams to wake up. Screams for help. None of this can possibly be happening right now.*
I do what I can, and slow my gait, pulling away from Cam with my attempt at a fast, yet slow-motion-I-don’t-want-to-fall version of my 180-twisty-turn. Then I pair it with my attempt to gracefully drop low and squirm out from under his arm by pretending I want to look behind me. But before I make a clean break, Laura calls attention to the group of evil-staring devils by shouting out, “Oi. Oi! Hullo there, guys!” And then, I think she says something close to, “Would you look at all the adorable wee-Canadian tigers! Roarrr!”
She tears away from us and runs straight into the danger zone!
“Oi! Bella-Jane. Paige. Jennie! Hold yourselves still for a photo, would you?” She’s pulling out her phone camera again. “And Tanner. Tanner with the last name that’s straight out of Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Tanner The Gold! Golden Ticket! Have I got your name right?”
He nods, taking his signals from Cam’s approving smile.
“Scoot-in next to the three beauties, young laddie. There. You’re all so brilliant.”
Tanner blinks like he’s been drugged and does exactly what Laura tells him to do.
Paige, Bella-Jane and Jennie step aside to let him in between them.
“Purrfect.” She snaps more photos and skips over to show them the results before looking up to boss us around. “Let’s go, then. Ellen and Cam. Patrick, too. I’m needing some photos of them cheeky faces in here along with the rest of us. Like I said, I’m on a mission here.”
And just like one of my imagined mind movies, the crowd parts and we walk over and get into her photo. Only this is not one of my imaginary moments. This is completely real and happening! More amazingly, instead of murdering Laura, or outwardly scorning the activity and the fact that I’m part of that activity, they all smile and move to be in front of Laura’s camera like they can’t get enough! As the bus pulls into sight, I find myself gathered into more happy group shots, and double and triple selfies being taken off other people’s phones than I’ve ever been in my life!
Normally, I’d be pulling away from the crowd, mostly because I’d be falling all over the place every time someone put a shoulder up next to mine, or bumped my bad leg. But here in Laura London land, I’m fine! Because Cam’s not changed his grip on me once. He’s been making sure I’m okay and that I don’t even wobble and he’s done it in a way where no one seems to notice that he’s doing it. He’s also smiling and acting like I’ve always belonged here next to him in this huge crowd.
Just like this. Just like yesterday. For better or for worse.
I’m not sure which—but I think worse, because I just agreed to three shots of me as one side of a Bella-Jane and Cam sandwich.
I realize I’m trusting Cam like I probably shouldn’t trust him because at any second he could simply ruin me and all of this wonderful balance he’s giving me and let me flop. His grin says everything is okay for now. And…it feels nice to not have to be afraid or to work so hard for once that I just go with it.
More photos from Laura’s phone mean even closer crowding in. And still somehow he keeps me balanced and leaning on him as though I’m—as though all of this—is fun and normal. He pulls me closer and closer, and I simply…let him where normally I’d push away. Heck, I even snuggle deeper under his arm, mostly so I can hide my red face while I try to calm how I’m breathing in and out really fast. His hoodie feels really soft—too soft—and I’m quickly losing my original idea that I should eventually say or do something to make this all stop.
Besides…when, exactly, would I do that?
When I stop liking this so much? When he somehow hurts me? When he makes fun of me? But his arm is laid so gently around me I know, I just know deep down that he would never do that.
My head floods with confusion, those crazy butterflies return and thoughts that won’t solidify swirl all around in an endless haze.
I pull in another deep and steadying breath then hold it, hoping for some sort of rational thought to return. It doesn’t work because the crowd has pushed me into him so close that I’ve got no other choice but to trust him right now. Also, holding my breath like this has made it clear to me that Cam’s heart is beating as hard and as fast as mine is!
*Wonders: Is it? Is
that really his heart…or is it mine?*
The bus roars up, and my thoughts tangle even more when I realize Cam and I are standing right in front of the bus door.
As in. We are first in line.
The crowd quiets down and I hear a flurry of whispers and low grumbles start behind us. My heart drops because, even though most of the kids are wearing tiger beanies that match mine, those whispers have to be about me.
I know—and they know—I do not belong here. Not in this boy’s arms and not first in the bus line. Ever. Stiffening my spine, I almost choke on my shame. I’m never ever first, and now everyone’s going to be watching me, laughing at my awkward moves up the steps. If my bad side will even cooperate now that I’ve made myself all nervous, that is.
Hating that I can’t bolt now without causing a scene or tripping all over the curb side and the kids behind me to get to the back of the line, I hold my ground and slowly flex my left leg. Of course I start praying and visualizing that it’s going to do what I want it to do this time. But, already because I’ve hit a panic state, my thigh muscle won’t respond and my hip flexor is refusing to let me raise the bad leg more than two inches off the ground.
“Um…” I start. The bus door swings open and I’m staring at that first step and it feels like I’m looking at Mount Everest.
“Will you let me help you up?” He’s whispered it so softly next to my ear, I wonder if I’m hallucinating.
I nod only slightly, just in case. I can’t peel my eyes off the tops of my navy blue Vans as Cam moves behind me without breaking any of our body contact. He runs his hand down my back and stops at the curve of my waist. This move has given me goose bumps all the way up the back of my neck. He moves a bit farther behind me and places his other hand on my opposite side. Now his palms are flat against the back of my waist like they were yesterday. Even though he’s not touching any skin this time, I actually feel like his hands have caught me on fire. My mind spins away from my embarrassment and pulls my thoughts into places that make my cheeks flame. How could someone so huge be so very gentle? Or is he only gentle with me… With me…