The Girl and The Falcon

2. The Doorway

Trevor was sitting on the side of the bus closest to the street, next to a girl named Andrea, who was my age and in my cabin last summer. Andrea was one of those girls that I knew was super popular back at her school. She had that strange magnetism and authority that certain girls seem to possess—I definitely didn’t have it, I can tell you that. The rest of the six girls in the cabin quickly become her adoring followers last year. It hadn’t taken her long to shun me when I refused to follow in their footsteps—not necessarily because I didn’t want to be her friend, but because I just didn’t relate to her. She was obsessed with the latest pop divas and read celebrity gossip magazines, and all she really talked about was boys, clothes, and make-up…and more boys.

            So why on earth was Trevor sitting next to her?

            Trevor smiled at something she said and shook his head as he stared out the window at the passing cars. I’d missed that laugh and that easy smile, and my heart fluttered just watching him as I approached awkwardly with my sack in tow, bumping my way down the aisle as the bus lurched into a higher gear.

            Andrea saw me first, her eyes widening in surprise. She elbowed Trevor. Trevor looked at her, irritated at first, then followed her line of sight. I smiled, happy to see his recognition. His eyes widened, and my breath caught in my throat as I wait for his response—a huge Trevor grin, followed by him promptly shoving Andrea out of her seat to make room for me to sit next to him. I briefly envisioned watching her slump to another seat, then plopping my oversized bag on her lap. Could you hold this for me? I’d say. Thanks.

            I’ll admit it: the thought made me a little giddy.

            So what happened next both astonished me and made me shrivel inside like a grape seared with a sudden burst of sun. Here’s what Trevor did instead: he looked at me, then back at Andrea, and then back at me again. Andrea grabbed Trevor’s hand and held it in hers and I jumped back slightly with surprise and revulsion. What? She was holding his hand? The hand that touched my face? And then Trevor looked away, his face masked as he stared out the window, his fingers intertwined with Andrea’s. He didn’t even smile at me; it was as if I wasn’t even there. 

            I couldn’t believe it: Trevor was dating Andrea. That was why I had liked him so much in the first place, because he was the only guy at camp who wasn’t interested in her shenanigans. But to find out that he was dating her, and that he wouldn’t even smile at me…I felt so betrayed, like I couldn’t rely on anyone anymore. All I wanted to do was get off the bus and die.

            I knew Andrea could read everything on my face—my hurt, my shame—because she smiled slyly in response. I wanted to hurl a flurry of horrible words at her like gooey eggshells and toilet paper, but I clamped my mouth shut, took my seat a few benches behind theirs, slouched against the window, and tried to disappear.

            I stared out the window, watching a group of pigeons rush after the muffin crumbs someone had tossed them. The bus turned around the corner and slowly left everything behind: the homeless man, the pigeons, the donut shop, the scent of coffee. Everything I loved, my mom, my home, my bedroom, will be waiting here for me when I returned in a month, but just thinking about the time away already made my heart ache. I couldn’t help but felt like one of the little muffin crumbs on the sidewalk: small, unwanted, tossed away.

I don’t know how I fell asleep, but I did. When I woke up, we were in the mountains, winding over the narrow asphalt roads as we neared the camp. The trees were thick and forested, and I could smell the heady scent of pine through the windows as we drove by. The air had warmed significantly since we escaped the Bay Area fog, so I peeled off my fleece and tucked it into my travel backpack, though I decided to leave my gloves on for the moment.