“Yeah. It was awesome. I was really impressed with the decorations.”
“It sure is something else,” he said, “I never used to go to the dances when I was your age.”
“You didn’t?”
“No way. I was too, shy. I didn’t have a lot of confidence in high school.”
If Mr. James only knew that there now at least thirty girls who would have died to go with him to the dance. She couldn’t believe he wasn’t just as hot in high school.
More and more people rolled up. Each time, Emily’s heart seeing a bike from the distance and gathering speed, only to slow down when it wasn’t him. Waiting for Pierce was like doing interval training.
Mr. James looked at his watch. It was 10:31.
“Well, we’ve given everyone an extra minute. The road waits for no one,” he said.
Emily felt dejected. He hadn’t texted her. He didn’t show up to cycle club. But as they rolled down the road, suddenly, Pierce and Grayson zoomed into the lead spots.
“Guys,” Mr. James yelled, “Nice of you to join us but next time… safety first!”
Emily would have rather they didn’t come together. She would have rather met Pierce on the lawn to chat before everyone else arrived, like they used to do. But she was at least happy he was here. She guessed that a bike conversation could still give her the necessary clues as to how Pierce was feeling about last night.
Emily caught up to Pierce who didn’t seem to be waiting for her. That hurt.
“Hey,” she said, grabbing his attention.
He fell back a bit and rode alongside her.
“Nice of you to show up… trouble sleeping?”
“Ha, yeah, how did you know?”
He looked at the road but she could see him smiling.
“How you feeling today?” he asked.
She wasn’t sure what he meant. Was she feeling tired? Was she in love? Was she sore?
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Cool. Cool. I’m more than a bit tired,” he said, “Thought this would help perk me up.”
She remembered the smell of booze on his breath. Maybe he was hungover.
The small talk they shared made her feel both better and worse. She had hoped he’d open the shutters and let her peek inside his brain today. She wanted to know how he felt about last night. It turned out, she wouldn’t even get the small talk.
“You don’t mind if I ride up with Gray today, do you?” he asked, “He had a rough night with his girl and just needs a chat. You know, man to man.”
Emily’s heart sank. After all that? After sharing that special moment? They just shared THE moment of her life and he wanted to have a chat with his buddy? She couldn’t believe it. Her heart cracked.
But she couldn’t lose her cool. Or she would lose her shine. She didn’t know much about boys, but she was pretty sure they didn’t like girls who freaked out.
“Course. You don’t have to ride with me every time,” she said, not meaning it.
She wanted him to ride with her every time. She wanted be with him every day. She wanted to be his girlfriend. Or at the very least, she wanted him to give her a sign that last night wasn’t a one night stand.
She wanted to cry. He hadn’t texted her this morning. He didn’t want to ride with her this morning. How could he be on such a different page?
The entire ride she felt out of breath. She felt like she was hyperventilating. She thought all sorts of crazy thoughts. Maybe she should quit cycling club. Maybe she should just leave Harlow.
But when the ride ended, much to her surprise, Pierce came over to her.
“Hey, sorry I didn’t ride with you. Grayson was going out with Hannah and she dumped him last night. I think it was just a stupid tiff, but he was pretty busted up.”
“That’s fine,” Emily said, feeling choked up. She had had twenty kilometers to convince herself that he hated her and would never speak to her again.
“So, do you want to catch some lunch in town now?”
Wow. Here she had doubted every ounce of her self worth and all the while he was planning a lunch date.
The pair cycled into town, past the gazebo and on to the main street where there was a very popular cafe that served sandwiches and soups. They parked their bikes just outside on a bike rack and walked in to grab a seat at a counter table in the window.
“Why don’t you sit here and I’ll grab us something? You can watch the bikes?”
His treat. She ordered a ham and cheese “grinder,” the New England word she learned for subs, and a coke. She looked out at the bikes while he went to place the order. The bikes looked nice next to one another. His large framed, black and shiny next to her with bike with light blue writing. They looked cute together those bikes. They should stay together forever, those bikes.
Pierce sat down.
“Man, I’m a bit tired after last night and that ride,” he said, “You?”
“Yeah. I couldn’t sleep last night,” she said, hoping it might spark a conversation about their special evening.
“I know,” was all he replied.
The pair looked out the window for a moment. The wind had kicked up and autumn leaves blew around on the sidewalk in mini tornadoes.
“So, Em,…” he said, still looking out the window, “I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, I really like you, but I think we should slow down.”
Emily drew in a sharp breath.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean… I know what happened last night was… well, it was great, of course. But, you know, maybe we were just caught up in the moment and we need to take more time to get to know each other. You know? I don’t want us to feel like we have to do that every time we are together.”
Was this good or was this bad? Sure, Emily agreed that she didn’t want to do it every time she saw Pierce. She didn’t want to sneak off to the woods behind the infirmary every time she saw him like she heard some people did. Apparently there was an abandoned hut there but Emily had no interest in finding out.
And while Emily didn’t want to feel pressurized to have sex again, she also didn’t want him to not want her that way. Did this mean he just wanted to be friends?
All she said was, “Ok.”
He could see she wasn’t feeling right. He reached out and grabbed her hand across the table.
“Aw, Little One, I still like you.”
Little One.
“I still like you, too,” she said, “I like you a lot.”
“I know you do. That’s why we need to keep getting to know each other. Take it slowly, so no one gets hurt.”
Emily’s brain was torn in half, or maybe even by more ways than that. Her thoughts were all over the place and weren’t connecting. But the words that Pierce was saying seemed to be kind. They seemed to be considerate. They seemed to still want her.
She tried to chill out and live for the moment. Right now, she was in a quaint little town in New England eating funny named sub sandwiches with a boy she liked. That was enough. She was enough. Yes, of course… she was enough.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
AFTER LUNCH, EMILY went back to her dorm to tackle the epic amount of pages she needed to read for History before meeting up with Randy to so some math studying.
She really didn’t want to meet Randy in Wainwright, worried that if Pierce saw her in the common room, he might think she was some stalker, but Randy really enjoyed meeting there best. The library’s acoustics made him feel uneasy and his mother had told him not to go into any of the girls dorms.
He said he did what his mother told him to because the few times he hadn’t, he had ended up once at the police station, once had gotten lost on a mountain trail and once had drunk a beer (when he was thirteen) with his next door neighbor who had Alzheimers. Although Randy did not feel awkward or in danger in any of these circumstances, he had seen his mother cry, so he listened to her as he didn’t like to see her cry.
Emily liked Randy more a
nd more. He was straightforward and there were no nuances with him. No guessing. No games. No nothing but the words that came out just as he meant them. And just as he said it like it was, he accepted Emily for who she was. He seemed to make no judgments and was eternally curious. He liked to hear about Emily and her life, her likes and her dislikes. With so many people at Harlow focused on themselves, it was refreshing.
Randy also looked forward to meeting with Emily. It was the first time he spent so much time with one person outside of his family. He had had some friends throughout the years, ones that mostly his mother had coordinated, but almost all of them, over time, just stopped coming around.
He noticed that since he told her he was autistic, she didn’t make any of those faces that some people made when he asked questions: the face that meant “confused.” He felt certain that his mom would like Emily, too. And that was worth a lot.
Randy entered the Wainwright common room and found Xander pouring over his cell phone. He took notes at the same time. Randy broke his concentration.
“Hello, Xander,” said Randy.
“Hey,” Xander said, “What brings you here?”
Xander found a bit of hope rise within him. Maybe Randy was meeting Emily. Then, he could ask how the dance ended for her without sending a desperate, snooping text to find out.
“I’m meeting Emily. We are math study buddies.”
“Ah, yeah, she mentioned that before,” said Xander, “She’s nice. Good buddy?”
“Yes, she is good to study with. She’s very understanding and makes me feel comfortable,” said Randy.
“That’s good, dude. She’s a great girl…” said Xander, loading his things into his backpack but trying to do it slowly enough as to maybe catch a glimpse of Emily.
“You’re friends with her. You should know that she’s good to study with,” said Randy.
“Yeah… just making small talk,” said Xander. He did find it hard to talk to Randy, who always saw things so literally. He had once tried to tell Randy a joke, and he got twenty questions in return. Randy didn’t know the difference between a one liner and a riddle.
“Well, before you leave, since you are friends with her, you should know that Pierce is not a nice guy. Well, he may be nice but he does things that are unacceptable.”
Xander pulled back his head and raised an eyebrow.
“What do you mean?” asked Xander, both excited to hear someone else didn’t like Pierce and at the same time worried that Mr. Perfect might not be treating Emily perfectly.
“I am never sure about these things. My mom says I don’t always pick up the ‘correct notes in a song’ but I overheard Pierce saying he was going to poke Emily. Poke means a lot of things but I don’t know why anyone would want to poke someone else. Maybe he pushed her with his finger. Maybe he was talking about sex. I think I read once that people call sex poking.”
Xander tried to act normal. He had goosebumps but he knew Randy wasn’t the guy to talk to about it. What Xander did know was that if he would not be the guy with Emily, then the one that would be couldn’t talk about “poking” her. What a jerk.
Just then Emily walked in. Xander jumped as though he had been caught red-handed.
Emily laughed.
“What’s wrong with you? Seen a ghost?” she asked.
“No I, uh…” he hesitated, “I was just going. I get a bit jumpy when I’m tired.”
“Oh,” she said, putting her backpack down on the chair next too Randy.
Xander gathered the rest of his things and started to leave.
“So, see you tomorrow, Em? Same time, same place?” he asked.
“Wouldn’t miss it for anything,” she said.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
POKE… POKE… POKE… Poke… Poke…
The word was on repeat in Xander’s head like a broken CD. How could Pierce talk about Emily like that? Xander, like every guy, was horny and into girls. Like everyone else he had wet dreams and got boners when he least expected it. But never, ever would he talk about a girl he liked with other guys that way.
Emily wasn’t a piece of meat. She wasn’t some girl that you “poke.”
Xander’s digital clock showed big red numbers: 5:15pm. He should have headed to Oak Street for something to eat. But he couldn’t. He might run into Emily there. He might run into Pierce there.
Xander grabbed a nutrition bar and decided to clear his mind and go for a walk.
Throwing open the heavy doors of Wainwright, the cool air surprised his hot and bothered face. Like forged iron in a cool bucket of water he imagined there must have been steam coming off of him. He hadn’t realized how just how angry he was until he got outside.
He walked quickly toward the boathouse.
Walking at Harlow as a prep, it was impossible not to be taken aback by the sophistication and scale of this school. Xander passed the Kain library with it’s assuming facade, taller than any other building in Harlow town. Oak Street dining hall windows displayed faces of rich kids laughing and taking their four course meals for granted. He hit Main Street and continued into town, passing houses reminding him of history as old as America, preserved with patriotic precision and pride. No chipped paint, not a weed in sight. The town was immaculate.
Walking swiftly, he hit the gazebo and turned left. He saw a couple seniors in the sub shop and some Harlow girls walking out of one of the few good clothing boutique in the town. Everyone was enjoying their Sunday but him. Finally, he hit the boathouse.
The boathouse was an impressive building that made every Harlowite, whether or not they rowed, feel special. It was cool and privileged beyond belief to have a boathouse at one’s school. But beyond that, the building instilled school spirit. Painted in the school colors, crimson and grey, it had a clock tower, with a large ‘HA’ and the school emblem on it. Some proud bazillionaire named Saxon donated the money for it in the nineties and a plaque that read “The Robert A. Saxon Boathouse, Harlow Academy” hung under the clock.
Xander opened the white picket gate to the right of the building. It lead down a narrow pedestrian path to the river’s edge behind the boathouse where there was large, well maintained lawn with a few benches. Skipping those in lieu of a better view, Xander hopped the ceremonial, low hanging chain that blocked off the piers and walked out to the end of one.
The tide was going out on the Chinook River. It was cold, and the landscape was still colorful, though as the first day of November, many of the leaves now lined the bank’s edges, some still glorious, some now brown and dead. It had been a warm autumn day but as the sun continued to descend in the sky, Xander could see that his breath was turning to vapor in the chill air.
This was where she met him. Where Emily met Pierce. Xander remembered Emily’s smile, the wonder on her face when they first walked into the boathouse. She had so much light about her. Not like so many other Harlow students, Emily didn’t seem to take any experience for granted. She seemed pure and unspoiled and something in Xander wanted to look out for her.
Xander watched the gentle current flow toward the campus and thought about his walks with Emily along the winding forest trails, along the edge of this very river. Suddenly, he felt an anger he had never felt before. The combined force of wanting to defend his friend from this pig, feeling jealous and feeling helpless to change Pierce’s disrespect overwhelmed him.
Xander wondered what he could do. Confronting Pierce would do nothing. He was older than Xander, way more popular than Xander and had a charisma that seemed to charm everyone around him.
Apart from his big talk in the dorm, most of the people on campus thought he was a good guy. He was polite, so well mannered, so manicured to perfection. Apart from the guys that actually heard Pierce talking garbage, nobody would believe that Pierce was anything but a prince. It would just make Xander look bad to gossip about him.
It was getting freezing now; the sun was low in the sky. Xander’s hands were going dry and chilled. He gave them a shake
, hoping to invigorate some blood flow. He stood up, looked out at the sunset and realized he had one weapon. He would stop at nothing to unearth this conundrum.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
FIELD HOCKEY SEASON had ended. Georgia, as a member of Junior Field Hockey, was not required to take part in the prep PE program but she asked if she could as Georgia couldn’t live without sports and her physical activity period was now free. While most kids welcomed the free period, she longed to keep active and Emily was happy that Georgia’s time slot matched hers.
The girls walked down the hallway in the athletic facility that house an Olympic sized pool with high dives, two ice hockey rinks, two basketball courts, a fitness center and fourteen squash courts, among much more glory.
When Emily took her tour at Gateway, the squash courts surprised her most. There were fourteen of them, with viewing galleries and all. Fourteen? How had she missed that squash was such a luxurious and posh sport to play? She thought to herself that it must have been all the rage when the facility had been first built because the coolest athletes at school were no longer hanging out on those courts.
Georgia and Emily headed toward the squash court they had been assigned. The instructor had just given them a lesson in rolling nicks, squeeze boosts and straight drives, shots that Emily assumed were well out of reach for her first time playing the sport.
The girls entered the court and put their water bottles to the side.
“Should we just try to hit the far wall, and not use the side walls to start,” Georgia asked.
“Good idea. I mean, why did Miss Holmes even bother telling us about mizukis?”
“Well, let’s just face it, this place is full of people sweet on sport. You never know. It’s just the kind of thing that would happen. First day of prep squash and somebody emerges as a prodigy,” said Georgia.
Emily knew it sounded like a sarcastic joke but it was actually the truth. It seemed as though everywhere she turned Emily watched prodigies and masterminds hatch. In math, kid’s “discovered” theorems that took Greeks years to perfect, preps could play the cello like they’d been playing in the New York City Orchestra for 20 years. Smart, talented and ambitious, this place was for winners.
The End Defines the Beginning : A Boarding School Coming of Age (Harlow Academy Series Book 1) Page 14