The Essential Elements: Boxed Set

by Elle Middaugh

  Advanced Chemistry proved that couples should never be lab partners. Avenelle Winters and Benjamin Jacobson fought about everything from covalent bonds to how brusque he’d been with her on the phone the night before. They also hung on to each other like monkeys and stole kisses every time the teacher wasn’t looking. It wasn’t the best show I’d ever seen, but unfortunately it wasn’t the worst, either.

  And then there was history, World Events to be precise, where none other than global warming took precedence in that week’s debate. My Aunt Marge would have been in her glory. There were a number of very passionate theories and opinions about it, even among teenagers. I preferred to keep my opinions on the matter to myself. Hopefully I’d slip under the radar by playing shy.

  Lunch rolled around faster than I could have hoped. I found myself at the end of the line, stomach rumbling softly as I peered ahead and tried to see what I would have the pleasure of eating. Chicken, mashed potatoes and corn, pizza and fries, or…

  I watched him grip his tray a little too tightly, the whites of his knuckles contrasting with his sun-kissed skin. The white t-shirt and blue jeans he wore hugged his body ever so slightly. It was just enough to keep his pants from hanging down, unlike the apparent ‘style’ nowadays, which I despised immensely. I thought the male population needed less gangsters and more gentlemen.

  He opted for fresh fruits from a basket, and nothing else.

  I smiled stupidly and forced myself to stare at my tray as he disappeared into the expanse of the cafeteria. A soft blush caressed me from my neck to my cheeks. If there was one person I would make an exception for and actually attempt to talk to, it would be Cade Landston, but that would never happen; he seemed to have a no-socializing rule of his own going on.

  Of the three non-consecutive years I’d spent with that graduating class, never once had Cade stepped out of the woodwork and drawn attention to himself, or anyone else, for any reason—not even when Charles Hunt was choking on a piece of hotdog in the cafeteria freshman year. Cade just waited until someone else realized what was going on and started a commotion.

  I knew this because, with no real friends of my own, I had always been something of a people-watcher, and Cade was totally my favorite show. I settled for other channels when he wasn’t around, but it was like soap opera melodrama compared to mystery detective fiction.

  Without thinking, I also added a small pile of fruit to my tray and grabbed a bottle of water at the last second. I then had no choice but to enter the cafeteria. Stupidly, I stood scanning, chewing on my bottom lip, trying to find a secluded place to sit. There were a number of long tables that spanned the length of the place and a few round tables off to the side by the windows. I hurried and grabbed the one empty round one in the corner.

  A few people at one of the long tables waved at me, smiling. I didn’t want to be rude, so I smiled back, but I didn’t want to be inviting either, so I didn’t wave. I immediately looked elsewhere to avoid any more of their attention.

  More eyes. Mine burned as the realization of being watched by tens of people overcame me. Why did being new automatically make you an exhibition at the zoo?

  A cute boy with gelled dark brown hair sauntered over and pulled up a chair, straddling it. “Hey,” he said with an easy smile.

  Panic swelled in my veins. This was exactly what I wanted to avoid. “Hi,” I replied curtly.

  “Enjoying your first day back?”

  “Yes,” I lied. Please go away.

  His laugh seemed a little too hollow. “Looks like it. I’m Holden, by the way. We have chemistry together. Maybe we could be lab partners? I already have one, but I’m sure Mrs. Caldwell would let me swap.”

  Wide eyed, I shook my head. “No, thank you.”

  Frowning slightly, he carried on. “I’m great at science. I think you could benefit from having me as a partner. Plus, I mean…” He trailed off as a lazy grin slid across his face. “You’re beautiful. I’m sure you hear that all the time. Every girl here wants to date me, but you’re the only one on my level, you know? I think we could be really great together.”

  There were so many things wrong with the words he’d just uttered that I was momentarily taken aback. The dizziness faded as I shook my head and blinked a few times. I would definitely break my silence for this.

  “Holden,” I said carefully. “I don’t know where your assessment of my scientific skill came from, but I can assure you, I’m quite competent. Therefore, I have no need for your intellectual assistance.” Before the words entirely sank in, I continued, “I’m flattered that you think I’m so attractive, but the idea that we could form a relationship based solely on the compatibility of our looks is ridiculous. Beauty can initiate interest, sure, but it can’t sustain it, and your egotism has already deterred mine.”

  He stood, completely caught off guard. “Wow. Maybe you are just a bitch. No wonder nobody ever talks to you.”

  I ground my teeth and forced a polite smile. “It was nice to meet you, Holden.”

  “Back at ya,” he muttered as he walked away. His table erupted into a chorus of teasing moans as he sat back down dejectedly. His failure was evidently hilarious to them. Most likely, he didn’t miss the mark very often.

  So much for avoiding social interaction. Keeping to myself might have been a little easier if everyone else would have complied. Slicing my apple, I thought of Holden’s words. Maybe you are just a bitch. Is that what everyone was saying about me? It certainly was now, anyway. Whatever. That would just make it all the easier for me to keep away.

  I ate in silence, frustration gnawing at my insides as I crunched on my fruit. I really didn’t want to be labeled as a bitch. Shy was more of what I was going for; loner would’ve even been fine, but not that. Why did standing up for yourself always seem to degrade your reputation? As if quietly enduring the slander somehow made you a much better person.

  I tipped my water bottle to my lips, and suddenly I realized Cade was staring at me from two tables down. Our eyes locked like electromagnets and my pulse jumped. Blushing furiously, I averted my eyes to my tray.

  I peeled my orange meticulously, allowing the tedious concentration to keep me out of trouble, but I couldn’t help stealing a quick glance in his direction. He was no longer looking at me, just rearranging the fruit on his tray. Once I finished, I realized I wasn’t hungry any more. Good thing, because the lunch bell sounded off a few moments later.

  Stupid Holden. He tainted every thought on my way to class. I decided stubbornly that I would actually talk to the next person that approached me. I would prove that I wasn’t the bitch everyone thought I was. I would try, anyway. Maybe.

  But nobody did.

  In Creative Writing, we received our first big writing assignment. We had a month total before the final draft was due. That week, we were to decide on a work of preexisting literature. It was our job to then analyze and apply our own personal twist to craft a story. It could be as outrageous or subtle as we wanted. The real joy in writing fiction, for me, was that the creative possibilities were endless.

  And Cade was in that class, too, which was a definite plus. However, I wasn’t sure if I’d make it a whole half a year without being caught staring at him at some point.

  Poetry had us analyzing and constructing lyrics. My favorite so far was Jay Walsh’s jingle about being the designated driver for his older brother and his brother’s college buddies. They certainly seemed to have some adventures worthy of a country song.

  Painting came next. Passionate as I was about art, that class was a little underwhelming. Despite being bored, I thought it was actually a good thing; it allowed me a huge amount of freedom to create whatever I wanted, above and beyond Mr. Whittaker’s expectations. We’d be using watercolor for the assignment of painting a landscape that evoked a personal emotion—happy, sad, scared, angry, whatever. I immediately began painting a snow-scape, though I wasn’t sure which would be the dominant corresponding emotion.

  Seventh
period was coed gym class. I would have preferred it to be girls only, but other than that, I generally liked gym, so it wasn’t a problem. Since it was my first day and I didn’t have the proper athletic attire, I spent that time on the sidelines watching everyone else—not ideal, to say the least.

  That left eighth period, English. Time ticked by the slowest there, not because of the subject matter, necessarily, but because it was the last class of the day.

  Cade sat two seats behind me and to the left, so I couldn’t really steal any covert glances. That left me tuning in to other, less interesting channels once again. Joel Stevens doodled little skulls all over his red skater shoes. Sarah Payton listened to music the entire time, through earbuds she had hiding in her shirt collar that trailed all the way down her sleeve to the compact player in her hand. Impressive, actually. Loren Marlowe literally sat on the other side of the room applying nail polish—as if Miss Priss could get any more irritating. Holden Michaels sat a few seats behind her, minding his own business for once.

  I longingly awaited the conclusion of the lecture. Mrs. McConnell had gone on quite long enough about the hardships of William Shakespeare. My insides were starting to curl and I could feel my blood thrumming stronger, my skin starting to heat up. I needed this day to be over, to know that I had officially survived.

  Finally, the bell sounded.

  That crucial obstacle keeping me from getting outside and getting a grip on myself dissipated at last. People made way for me absently as I rushed to my locker. Every book I’d received throughout the day went into the bag, regardless of if I had homework in that subject or not. The need to escape was rising and it wouldn’t recede until I got outside. I somehow managed to not make bodily contact with anyone, despite the flood of students that overfilled the halls and spilled out the front doors.

  Anxiety immediately floated from my skin like tiny bubbles and popped against the bright blue sky. Relief settled in next, sending a cool mint wave swimming through my bloodstream. Finally, genuine happiness. I had survived. I could do this. The first day was always the worst day, after all. It could only get better from there.

  The students were, for the most part, indifferent, and the teachers were helpful. The school wasn’t big enough to get lost in, and I was smart enough to know I’d do well in my classes. The anxiety that had crept up on me moments before wasn’t exactly fear of that place itself. I think it was more like…fear of change.

  I imagined Aunt Marge piping in with one of her ridiculous folk sayings. “A little change adds up to a lot of dollars, and every river has a bank!” Or something like that. She was strange.

  My feet moved of their own accord as I began the walk back to Marge’s house. I liked to walk, liked the solitude, the glorious nothingness that allowed me the luxury of not thinking. Thoughts of not thinking swirled through my head as I suddenly heard my name being called from somewhere behind me.

  Turning, I followed the voice to the face. The gasp that escaped my lips couldn’t possibly be contained.

  Cade.

  Chapter Three

  Oh. My. God.

  My head jerked forward and I stopped everything. I took the biggest breath I could manage and exhaled it as slowly as humanly possible, then turned around to face him again.

  “Yes?” I asked kindly with an eyebrow raised. My lips tucked inward as I waited anxiously.

  He nearly grinned. “I heard you’re living with Marge Prett. She’s your aunt?”

  “I am, and she is,” I replied, avoiding the opportunity to elaborate further.

  He took a step closer and shrugged. I swore I could feel the heat of his skin hovering in the space between us. “Would you like a ride to her house?”

  A soft smile spread across my lips as I cocked my head to the side. “No, thank you.”

  I was such a liar! What had happened to that promise to open up to the next person who approached?

  Then he smiled, truly smiled. Like, sunrise. It was only the second time I’d ever seen such a look cross his face. The first time had been in the office just that morning.

  “I figured you’d say that, and that’s good, because I didn’t drive today.”

  “Interesting…” I muttered amusedly as we studied each other’s eyes.

  It was exhilarating to finally see him, without having to shy away. I wanted to know him. The sudden realization burned a hole through my chest.

  Cade Landston was…an enigma. He was neither this nor that, here nor there. He just was. Not popular, not unpopular; not smart, not stupid; not rich, not poor; not talkative, not shy; not friendly, not rude; not anything, not nothing. I knew him by name, as everyone in the small high school did about everyone, but that was it.

  I brought my focus from the conundrum of who the guy actually was to the physical nature of his being. Disheveled blond hair rode his head like a choppy wave. His plush lips rested somewhere between a smile and a frown, his emerald green eyes sparkling. They sat equidistant from a perfectly straight nose, neither large, nor small. He was taller than me by more than half a foot, but he was not towering. Completely and totally average in almost every way, but one. He was beautiful. Absolutely unlike any other creature I’ve ever laid eyes on.

  Butterflies whirled through my stomach, fluttered through my veins, and lifted me off the ground. A childish sensation was pinching at my heart, and I couldn’t deny it: I was totally crushing on Cade Landston. I probably had been for years.

  “Would you like some company on your walk?” he asked me almost eagerly.

  This was like a beautiful hallucination, something I’d concocted from my strangest of yearnings. I could so easily have been imagining it. It might have been a scene from a movie or a book or a dream, but it couldn’t be real.

  Only it was.

  I couldn’t speak for him, but as for me, I knew if I took this step, my carefully constructed haven of solemnity would crumble. There would be no turning back; it had taken me years to build those walls.

  So I gave him one last chance to change his mind.

  I scrunched my nose but continued smiling warmly. “I usually prefer to walk alone…” I’d provided just enough ambiguity to make it sound like a denial. “But thank you, again.”

  I let out a whispery breath as I turned and continued on my way, clutching my school bag tightly to my chest. I almost hated myself in that moment. Like a rock, my stomach sank to my feet.

  “I walk home this way, too,” he added, a bit louder than he might have intended.

  I sighed blissfully. He was persisting. The weightlessness that suddenly engulfed me was dizzying.

  “Is that so?” I called sweetly, never turning my head. The confidence that radiated off my tongue belied the rapid hammering of my excited heart. If he saw the peonies blossoming in my cheeks, he’d know for sure how enchanted he’d made me.

  “Well, would you prefer for me to stare at your ass, or you at mine?”

  I stopped instantly and whipped around to meet his gaze.

  “If you don’t want to walk with me, I’ll have no choice but to walk either behind you, or ahead. So, it’s up to you.” The mischief in his eyes had nothing on the enormity of his evil grin. I was pretty sure my heart stopped; I knew my breathing did.

  “As much as I’d simply love to admire your ass,” I replied as nonchalantly as I could muster, “I think I’ll instead accept your previous offer. I guess we’ll be walking home together.” I’d placed an odd emphasis on the final word that had me mentally kicking myself. The peonies were in full bloom again.

  Cade bridged the gap between us and we fell into step, the cadence of our footfalls echoing louder as we made it farther away from the school and human life. Out this way, there was nothing but an empty, winding road and a thick forest all around.

  I looked down at my sandals, concentrating on the soft pink flowers that decorated the straps. Shoes were another sort of creative outlet for me. Usually I dressed in earthy-colored tops and formfitting denim jeans. T
he only splash of color you’d ever find in my wardrobe would most certainly be from the sneakers, sandals, pumps, and flats that dominated my closet in neat rows.

  “So what do you usually do on your walks home from school?” he asked, sliding his hands almost nervously into his jeans pockets.

  “Not much to do, huh?” I asked jokingly. My eyes floated from my shoes to his: white sneakers with crimson stripes and ruby laces. My inner shoe enthusiast approved. “Think,” I replied simply.

  “About what?”

  “About nothing,” I admitted honestly, my gaze finally drifting to his face. “I think about how great it is to not have to think.”

  His green eyes were fixated on nothing in particular and his lips were pursed, as if in thought. “We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to.”

  No underlying tones suggested he was put off. It was more like the resounding tone of a familiar soul. He seemed to understand my desire for solitude and silence.

  “Okay,” I agreed with a small smile, though my heart sank a bit at the idea.

  By that point, I feared I knew how spontaneous combustion might actually occur: your emotions literally set fire to your body in pure, venomous rage. It’s never a pretty situation when you let your heart rule your head. Of course, the latter is also often true.

  It continued on like that for longer than I thought I could take, walking side by side, together and alone. Never speaking, barely seeing one another, and yet, with each new passing minute, and despite the fact that I’d learned absolutely nothing about him, I felt in my heart that I knew him.

  Perhaps it was the familiarity in the way his lean legs kept stride, or the way his green eyes seemed to concentrate on every wooded detail surrounding him. Maybe it was how he pursed his lips and narrowed his brows in thought when he didn’t know I was looking, or how he flexed and relaxed his hands, wiggling his fingers as they swayed at his sides.

  All his little quirks had started morphing into puzzle pieces I was meticulously piecing together. The puzzle was nowhere near complete; I couldn’t even tell that the picture was of him yet, but I could feel that it was good. He was good.