Remember When #featured #AllStars

Chapter 5

BRAIN DEAD

The rest of the week went by in a blur. I did remember to start waking up about ten minutes earlier than usual so that I could catch Trip during his morning jog. Sitting off to the side of my window in the dark and peeking through the blinds was risky, but even feeling like a stalker and losing a few minutes of sleep was worth the payoff. I mean, there were worse ways to start a day, am I right?

Trip and I still walked from the cafeteria down to English every day, and sometimes, we even managed to carve out a few moments of conversation during class. Riveting commentary such as, "What page are we on?" or "Do you have an extra pencil?"

But even still, it was the part of day that I most looked forward to, those few stolen moments when he'd be sitting just inches away from me. It was unnerving and exciting... and totally self-destructive. I spent the entire day preoccupied with waiting to see Trip, then spent the class so distracted by the mere proximity of him that I was starting to turn into quite the space cadet. At the very least, I consoled myself with the knowledge that English was my best subject, so it's not like my studies were suffering from any daydreams during that class. But still. I didn't know how much longer that would be the case and I already seemed to be slipping everywhere else.

By Friday, I'd fallen behind on my silk-screening project, so I opted to cut lunch and head down to the art room instead. It was slightly devastating, knowing I was skipping out on some major social time with him, but I had to take control of my life. I couldn't spend every waking moment thinking about Trip Wilmington.

By the time I beat the bell to Mason's class, Trip was already at his desk and a note was waiting for me at mine. I slid into my seat and unfolded it.

Where were you?

My stomach did an involuntary flip, appreciating that he'd noticed my absence from our lunch table. I gave a "Hi" over my shoulder and started to say, "I went down-" but before I could finish, Mason called attention to the front of the room and I was forced to shut up. Trip mimed writing in the air with an imaginary pencil, so I scribbled

I went down to the art room

and passed it low behind me for him to grab.      

A few seconds later, as Mason was explaining our Shakespeare outline or something, a folded wad of paper was tossed over my shoulder.

What for?

I decided to bust his chops:

To do art, dummy.

I heard him snicker behind me. A minute later, I felt his hand tuck the paper into the waistband at the small of my back. I turned just long enough to shoot him a look and catch him raising his eyebrows at me.

I kind of figured that out already on my own. And who are you calling dummy, dummy.

I made sure Mason wasn't looking before tossing back my response.

YOU!

Then I threw a second piece of paper over my shoulder, where I had written:

...Dummy.

I heard Trip stifle a guffaw, choking back the laughter as he spent an exorbitant amount of time writing a reply.

At that point, we were asked to work on our "Mind Ramble" exercises, a little task that Mason utilized to get our creative juices flowing. She'd give us a subject- in this case, Romeo and Juliet- and ask us to keep it in the edges of our thoughts as we scribbled whatever the hell our minds told our hands to put on the paper. I really tried to let my brain wander and produce an effective Mind Ramble, but I couldn't get past the idea that Trip was apparently "mind rambling" right then about me.

I made a mental note to rip out a new sheet of loose-leaf for my reply to his manifesto, once he finally finished and handed it over. I was going to make damned sure I'd be the last one of us to get possession of his note, because there was no way I was ever letting that paper out of my hands at the end of this. Hell, I'd probably frame the stupid thing when all was said and done.

Near the end of class, Mason told us to put our pens down- Trip never stopped writing- and she did a quick review of the work we'd done on Romeo and Juliet to prepare us for the project we were going to be working on.

Then she passed out little stapled booklets that she had run off on the copier and collated, saying, "Rather than bore you by going over what I've already compiled here, I'll ask you just to follow the directions in the booklets. I'm expecting great things from each and every one of you."

The bell rang and she added loudly over the noise of a dispersing classroom, "Have your partners picked out by Monday! Enjoy your weekend!"

I got up and turned to give Trip his booklet and saw that he was still writing. "Hey Dummy," I prodded. "The bell rang."

I tried to peek over his hands to catch a glimpse of anything he'd written down just as he swiped the pages off his desk and folded them out of my sight.

"That for me?" I asked.

He grabbed his books and tucked the note in his shirt pocket. I couldn't interpret the look on his amused face; kind of embarrassed, but still lighthearted. "Maybe. Someday. Just not today."

I was just dying inside. Somehow, some way, I was going to get my hands on that thing. I didn't even care if it wasn't the love letter I was delusionally hoping it was, even though he'd started writing it long before our teacher asked us to Mind Ramble. I figured maybe he'd just gotten caught up on a tangent and rambled on endlessly about it. But the thoughts flying around the head of Trip Wilmington, whatever they were, were just too enticing a mystery not to be explored. What I wouldn't have given for just the slightest glean into that brain of his. The key to unlock that particular treasure chest was folded right there in his pocket, yet he wasn't handing it over. It was like offering a starving person a cookie, but holding it just out of their reach.

Of course, I couldn't ever convey my overwhelming obsessions to him. So, I gave a casual shrug and said, "Whatever floats your boat, pal."