Beautiful Torment

by Paige Laurens

  “You look great, Luci,” he says as he meets us, giving us both a hug. It’s so weird.

  I offer Hannah an apologetic smile over his words. This was a big mistake.

  “So, um, what are we seeing?” Mine as well get this over with as quickly as possible.

  “You pick,” Nick smiles.

  I head over to the posters, and naturally choose the least romantic, or scary (since that also can lead to romance), movie I could find. Really, I picked whichever poster had something being blown up on it.

  We all pay for our own tickets, thankfully, and Nick volunteers to buy the snacks. Hannah offers to go with him, and then he hands her a $20 and tells her to go on her own. She angrily takes it before heading to the concession counter, leaving Nick and I to make uncomfortable conversation.

  My mind wanders to Mr. Harrington. I can’t help think how different it would be if he were here, how natural and easy it would be.

  Thankfully, Hannah doesn’t take long, and the three of us wait outside the theater, the previous showing ending any minute now.

  “Popcorn, my date,” Nick shoves the bag in my face.

  “This isn’t a date,” I tell him for the umpteenth time.

  “I’ll change your mind by the time this date is over,” he says confidently. I roll my eyes, trying desperately not to meet Hannah’s.

  Finally, the theater lets out, and I lean my head against the wall as a rush of people file into the lobby. Nick and Hannah start talking about some skateboarding thing, which is funny because she knows nothing about the subject, and I’m back to fantasizing about my ideal world with my chemistry teacher.

  That’s when I suddenly see him.

  I recognize his peacoat, slung over his right arm. He’s in faded jeans and sneakers, with a blue and white baseball T-shirt that hugs his chest in a mouthwatering way. Next to him, a lady with long strawberry blond hair is talking. She’s pretty enough, and I hate her already. My heart breaks, as he’s clearly on a date.

  I wish I could pretend I don’t see him, but he’s too captivating and I can’t look away. I think maybe he won’t see me, but he does. I then think he won’t say hello, but the smirk that crosses his face as soon as our eyes meet tells me otherwise.

  “Hi, Luci,” he’s surprised to see me. We’ve never seen each other outside of school before, and I think back to my daydream, where I ditch my friends and we run off together. Only now, he’s ditching his lady friend too, and him and I are headed into a dark movie theater... oh god.

  “Hi,” I croak, looking between him and the girl. They aren’t holding hands, which makes me happy. I watch as he recognizes Nick, and something briefly flashes in his eyes. Anger? Annoyance? Curiosity?

  “Well,” he breathes. “See you Monday.”

  I nod. It can’t come soon enough.

  IN TOO FAR

  After seeing him at the movies with another girl I’m back to feeling pathetic. Of course he probably has a girlfriend. He’s wonderful like that. And even if he doesn’t, it’s not like we can ever go out to the movies like they did.

  Delusional.

  I don’t arrive early Monday morning, but still take the long way after first period, passing his classroom just to make sure he’s here. For all I know, after his little date weekend, maybe he took today off, because it was just that good.

  I groan out loud in disgust - at both the scenario I made up and at myself.

  Of course he’s here, standing outside his door, listening to my fellow forlorn non-friend chat his ear off.

  My relaxed expression doesn’t last long, for the minute I turn the corner, I stand utterly amazed, as he excuses himself and lightly jogs through the throngs of people towards me.

  “I didn’t see you this morning,” the twinkle in his eyes make it difficult to focus.

  “I was running late,” he picks up his pace as he walks back towards his classroom in line with me.

  “I’ll see you at lunch?” he confirms.

  I was determined not to meet him for lunch today. Not after seeing him on a date. What good could come from it? But, my heart flutters, betraying me.

  Of course I want to eat lunch with him.

  “Yeah,” I sigh, feeding my addiction.

  I slam my locker with such force, annoyed at myself. My body stiffening as I feel him approach, both hating and adoring what his proximity does to me.

  “So I get to meet the parents tonight.” I close my eyes, embracing the sound of his velvety voice, preparing to look his way. “I’ll be good, I promise,” he jests.

  “I’m not worried,” I snap back to reality as we make our way to his classroom.

  “Because you’re clearly so amazing,” he jokes, bumping my shoulder.

  “Clearly,” I confirm.

  “I’m not going to tell them how terrible you are… always late to class, never paying attention,” he counts on his finger, “starting fights, taking up all my time …”

  “Shut up,” I laugh. “I’m your favorite.”

  “Okay, sure,” he rolls his eyes, something he no doubt picked up from hanging around me.

  I abruptly stop just outside his door, half faking insult. “Am I really not?” I place my hands on my hips angrily.

  He eyes me up and down with a look that can’t be mistaken for anything but hunger. At that moment, I was positive that he’d eat me for lunch today.

  He sighs before looking away, and the next time his eyes meet mine his expression is nothing but friendly. “Obviously you are,” he lightly shoves me inside.

  I move a chair for him, and go to grab my lunch; only it’s not there.

  “Crap, you distracted me,” I curse under my breath. “I forgot to take my lunch from my locker. Be right back,” I practically run out the door.

  He waits for me to return before he starts to eat, and I’m out of breath from running, almost panting as I sit back down.

  “You know, I don’t think I ever told you,” he’s staring into the abyss. “What you wrote down on your index card the first day of school… it was the best answer I’ve ever read.”

  It’s not unusual for him to bring up something so random, but I still raise my eyebrow in question, a characteristic I’ve clearly picked up from hanging around him so much, not that I’m complaining at all.

  Honestly though, I forgot what he even asked for on the card.

  “You wrote your life’s ambition is to be happy,” he reminds me.

  “Well it is,” I remember now and he smiles.

  “We’ve never talked about college,” he swallows, and I cringe. It’s only November, but it seems it’s all everyone talks about. I love that we’ve never discussed it, and I don’t want to start now.

  “Where do you plan on applying?”

  “Somewhere far,” I shrug, because it’s what I always say when someone asks. It’s what I’ve planned. That’s when it hits me, the fact that I have 8 more months to enjoy what’s turning out to be the best year of my life. And maybe, actually, I don’t want to go so far away after all, because I don’t want our lunches to end. I don’t want to not see him. What if I stay local next year? Could we still do this? Each lunch together and talk?

  “Why far?” He casually takes another bite, while I’m over here, wincing over the fact that I’m so forlorn and pitiful.

  “I… I… don’t know,” I’m stumbling over my words until I take a deep breath. “I wanted change,” I admit, letting the feeling sink in, coming to terms with the fact that I want anything but that now.

  I know he briefly picks up on my use of past tense.

  “I went to a SUNY,” he offers. “Just to spite my parents.”

  “When?” My eyes dart to his, as his look becomes puzzled, no doubt ready to rein me in from crossing another blurred line.

  “If this is you asking my age it’s a poor way of doing it,” he’s more cocky than irate, but I still feel a little stupid. When will I learn?

  I say nothing and we continue eating in silence.


  “27,” he finally offers, and I’m completely taken aback by his willingness to cross that boundary. The air is thick and his whole demeanor has changed.

  “So maybe we should get this all out now,” I muse boldly, taking in his panicked look and quick intake of air. “Like… where do you live?” I continue joking, trying to lighten the mood. “Because I assume it’s the house with the periodic table mowed onto the front lawn.”

  He cracks up and I let out a huge sigh of relief. He starts fiddling with his pocket and next thing I know, he’s throwing his license my way. I briefly look at his picture before tossing it back to him. I really don’t need to see all his actual info, like the huge creeper I actually am.

  He’s an organ donor.

  “Well, it’s only fair,” he sticks out his hand, waiting for mine. I lean into my bag and hand it over, rolling my eyes in the process.

  “Why are you so mad?” He laughs, taking the piece of plastic from me. “Your picture is…. great!”

  “Ugh, I swear there was a question on the written portion of that test that was so inaccurate and poorly written it’s not even funny!”

  The way his laugh bellows causes me to blush. “That sounds like you,” he says through fits of laughter. “Still caught up on things that don’t matter.”

  He clears his throat before changing the subject. “So what did you think of the movie?”

  I wondered if he was going to bring up the fact that we saw each other over the weekend.

  “Just wonderful,” I roll my eyes again.

  “Wow,” he fakes shock, “do we actually agree on something when it comes to a movie?”

  “Huh,” I bite my lip, hiding a smile. “I guess so.”

  “So that kid wore you down?” He’s almost shy as he asks, a side of him I’ve never seen.

  “Definitely not. My friend Hannah was also there,” I pause. “And I only picked the movie because of the explosion on the poster,” he finishes my sentence and we both laugh.

  “What about you?” I inquire, knowing full well I’m overstepping the line yet again. “You don’t have to answer,” I hesitate nervously.

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” he swallows just as the bell rings.

  It’s after ten by the time Mom and Dad get home from open house. Dad followed Gracie’s schedule while Mom followed mine. I waited up just so I could hear all about it, jealous over the fact that she gets to see him tonight.

  “Mr. Harrington is absolutely wonderful,” Mom gushes as I prod her for information. “And Mrs. Stalling says you’re working so hard. I’m really proud of you, Luci.”

  I smile, thinking of how I can ask more about Mr. Harrington without making it obvious. “I’m doing better in chemistry too,” I add.

  “I can’t imagine why,” she winks.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” My heart starts thumping, praying my cover isn’t blown.

  “He’s cute and young,” Mom answers. “Especially for a teacher.”

  “Ew, Mom. I hadn’t noticed,” I shrug, nonchalantly and she gives me a look like she doesn’t believe me, because clearly, I’m not blind.

  “You know, when I was in high school this girl had such a crush on our English teacher,” she adds. “And-”

  “Mom, I do not have a crush on Mr. Harrington,” I interrupt her.

  “And,” she gives me a look, not appreciating my intrusion. “She ended up marrying him years later, imagine that!”

  “That’s so gross. Why would you even tell me that?!”

  “I was just saying because he is cute. Naturally I don’t mean anything by it, Luci,” she shakes her head. “Geez, what’s wrong with you?” She gives me another look, and I shrug. “Anyway, Mr. Harrington says the extra tutoring sessions are really helping.”

  Oh yes, they definitely are.

  “Ugh, yeah,” I fake annoyance before getting up. “Anyway, I’m going to bed, night!”

  I’m running late this morning, after having to wait extra long for the car to defrost. I barely step on the brake as I pull up to Chloe’s house, and she’s waiting outside for me impatiently.

  “I think you have a crush on Mr. Harrington.” It’s the first thing she says as soon as she gets in the car, and I’m caught off guard. It’s so random.

  “I do not,” I defend.

  “You so do,” Gracie pipes up from the backseat, and I shoot her a look. The last thing I need is for her to bring up the time she heard me call his name out that one night. She shuts her mouth immediately, as she should, since I never told Mom about Derek.

  It’s the first time I actually look at Gracie in forever, and I notice the clumped on makeup and short skirt. She doesn’t even look like herself. Mom would have never let her walk out of the house like this, but now that she works at the store, she’s not home when we leave, or come home.

  “You just spend a lot of time with him,” Chloe interrupts my scrutinizing.

  “Because I want to do well? You know how science is my worst subject,” I retort. “And I stay after school all the time for math, but no one accuses me of having a crush on Mrs. Stalling.”

  I pull into my spot, annoyed.

  “I’m telling you this as a friend. A lot of people in class are starting to talk.”

  “Like who?” I realize I’m jumping down Chloe’s throat, but I don’t care. I hear the door slam as Gracie gets out of the car, and I’m busy staring at her in the rearview mirror as she heads into school.

  “Like Kyle and his friends,” Chloe states. “Ashley said something to me the other day too.”

  “Okay, well when I start caring about what any of those people think, I’ll let you know,” I’m still trying to see where Gracie went, but I can’t find her in the crowd of people. “Lock the door when you get out.”

  I hop out of the car and slam my door, trying to catch up with Gracie, all while pushing Chloe’s words to the back of my mind.

  “What’s the rush?” Mr. Harrington asks as I pass by his office. “No hello?”

  “Sorry,” I’m walking backwards as I answer. “I’m trying to find my sister.”

  “Well I saw your assault victim down over by the English hallway earlier,” he offers. “Is everything-”

  “Thanks,” I smile. “See you at lunch!”

  I spot Derek making out with Gracie next to some lockers, exactly where Mr. Harrington said he was. Only, as I get closer, a ping of fear hits me as I realize it’s not Gracie he’s kissing, but her friend, Catie.

  Everything happens at once. My eyes dart from them to across the hall. I see Gracie, watching them. Her face falls before she lets out a loud shriek, causing everyone to look her way. She turns around and runs.

  “Shit,” I mumble before going after her, pushing through the horde of people. I see the tail end of her heading into the bathroom, and by the time I walk in she’s crunched on the floor, already puffy-faced from crying.

  “Gracie, are you okay?” I throw my bag on the gross floor and squat down beside her.

  “I don’t want to hear it,” she croaks.

  “Hear what?”

  “That you told me so.”

  “Okay,” I sit down next to her, not caring how disgusting it is.

  “I thought Catie was my friend.”

  “I know,” I bite my lip.

  “I gave him everything, Luci,” she whispers. “I can never get it back.”

  I wipe my own tear that escapes, my heart breaking for my little sister. She turns to me and cries, soaking my shirt. And I let her, as I wrap my arms around her, her eye makeup leaving a stain.

  “Do you want me to take you home?” I stand, offering my hand to help her up. She stands, fallimg into me, knocking me back with her bear hug.

  “I’m sorry I called you pathetic,” she whispers.

  “It’s okay,” I pick both our bags up off the floor and we head outside, making it just before the final bell rings.

  “It’s not, though,” she shakes her head. “W
hat I said to you was mean.”

  “We all make mistakes,” I give her a look.

  “Too soon, Luci,” she says as she opens the passenger door.

  “Sorry,” I look up over the car. “I know I haven’t exactly been the best sister. You were right in that I don’t know you anymore,” I admit. “But I’d like to.”

  “Me too,” she smiles through her wet eyes.

  I call Mom as soon as we get inside and tell her Gracie vomited, so she’s home. I don’t know when it came so easy for us to lie to our parents, and we both start laughing about it. I wet a washcloth for her, saying it will help with her puffy eyes, but really, I just want her to get all that hideous makeup off.

  “Are you going back to school?” She asks, ringing out the cloth before wetting it again.

  “Yeah, I have that lunch tutoring thing,” I roll my eyes, mocking it, hiding the fact that it makes my day.

  “You know,” she sighs. “I know Chloe’s right… you have a crush on Mr. Harrington,” she reveals. “You don’t have to admit it to me, but I won’t say anything.”

  I remain silent, watching as she bites her lip before dragging the cloth across her face. More colors smear off and drip down the sink.

  “I spied,” she confesses.

  “What?”

  “I thought maybe you’d tell Mom about Derek, so one day I followed you. I saw the way you smile and laugh with him,” she swallows. “Then I did it a couple of more times,” she pauses and my mouth gapes open. “The way you both joke and talk with such ease, like friends who obviously want so much more… I actually got jealous,” she laughs lightly. “Derek and I never looked like that.”

  My heart is pounding and I plop down on the toilet, needing to sit.

  “I didn’t want to admit to you that I didn’t love Derek, after all that happened, but I knew I didn’t. Because I looked nothing like the way you do.”

  “Stop,” I whisper.

  “The agony in the way you look at him. He has that same look when looks back at you, you know… And then I started feeling bad,” she hesitates, “because how you feel, and what you want … can never come to fruition.”