Between the Lines

- 16 -

She’s staring at me. Not in what seems a good way, though. Not like Molly, my freshman-stalker girl, stares at me, with her slightly open mouth and huge doe eyes as if she’s trying to eat me with her creepy, watery blue eyes.

No…Kendal is staring, but it looks from my periphery like she’s not sure if she should be furious or charmed. That’s my impression, when in reality, she probably doesn’t think that way. She’s likely thinking about some weird girl crap that has nothing to do with me.

Maybe it’s Kyle she’s thinking of.

Hell, of course she is! Her boyfriend just dumped her in the freakin’ woods, though she’s probably lucky he didn’t…

“How do you know where I live?” she asks me point-blank. Her voice isn’t accusing, just suspiciously intrigued. Good word choice there. Suspiciously intrigued…it’s a real damn shame I can’t think of words like that when I’m talking to a girl.

“No answer?” she asks, and I kind of flush because my inner dialog couldn’t have taken but a second or two, and she’s already kind of edgy.

“How-uh-how do I know…?” I stumble over my words, not sure if I should tell her the truth, if I even really know the truth, trying to juggle how best to deliver an answer….God! What do I say?!

“Where. I. Live,” she says with definitive clarity.

“Uh…” I clear my throat, still mentally juggling, and then, for better or worse, I just decide to drop all the verbal balls I’m trying to handle, and just go with basic honesty. “Look, Kendal, I… damn.” Deep breath, then I charge on. “Remember your birthday party in eighth grade?”

“Eighth grade?” she replies with obvious scorn.

“Yeah. Don’t worry. You didn’t invite me. You invited half the class, but not me. Anyway, someone left their invitation on a desk in Social Studies. Remember that class? With Sister Shear?” I ask trying to bring out even a hint of a smile.

“I forgot we called her that, actually,” she replies. And no. No hint of a smile.

“I know. It was ‘cause she was like a freakin’ nun…” She thinks I’m stalling, I feel it in her stare, so I move on. “Yeah. So someone left their invitation on a desk. It was the invitation with the blue foil background. The cool white etching with date and time and address.” Here I almost choke on the last word because it’s basically a confession that I’ve been stalking her for years.

“Yeah…” She answers quietly. Her response seems almost meditative, and again, I have no idea what that means. “I remember.”

“So-damn-I…I always had a-a thing for you. And even though I shouldn’t have taken the invite, I did. And I memorized your address and phone number. Everything. Not – not that I was going to come over or call or anything! I’m not a creeper…I just-liked knowing. In case. Ya know?” I drop my eyes, afraid to look at her, and I just wait for her to dash out of the car, into her house and away from me forever.

I can already hear Ms. Buchanan telling me I will have to write the story on my own because there’s a restraining order or some crap, and…

“Freakin’ jerk!” Kendal exclaims. I jump a bit, not having expected a fight.

“I know. Look, I’m sorry! I just thought…”

“What? No. Not you. Kyle!”

It takes a second to redirect my focus, but when I do, I see head lights bearing down on my embarrassment of a car. I know the lights right away. Because no one else’s car has lights like Kyle’s. And similarly, no one else will have facial bruising like I will from Kyle’s fists.