Dissonance | ✓

04 | Willow Tree

     I heard Miranda begging for me to step out of the bathroom, saying that I could not look that bad and that she desperately needed to work on her hair. It was early in the morning, so none of the other girls had come lining up at the door yet. I refused to let Miranda in before I was content with how I looked. The beige polo shirt and maroon pleaded skirt was not as terrible as I thought it would be, once I hemmed the skirt up a few inches.

     "You don't look bad at all," Miranda said, a part of her voice sounding irritated, as she pushed past me into the bathroom.

     Believing that Miranda would take long in the bathroom, and knowing how impatient I was, I asked her if the guys would be out at this time and where I could find them.

     "Carter will be out, Joey's a heavy sleeper," she called from inside. You can find him at that same picnic table or under the willow tree around there."

      Just as Miranda said, I found Carter, or at least assumed it was him, sitting against the willow tree across the picnic table I met him at the day before. It was only his silhouette that I saw, as the sun was hidden behind the sullen sky. When I came close, I dropped my messenger bag next to him and sat down on the grass.

     You still studying before school even started?" I playfully asked him. He lifted his head, and I saw that it was not Carter. This boys jawline was quite chiseled and, even though it was a little dark, his hazel eyes sparkled more than Carter's.

     "I don't know you." His bushy eyebrows furrowed.

     "Oh, um, sorry, I thought you were...never mind," I apologized. I was embarrassed and wanted to get up on my feet fast, but the boy held my arm.

     "Stay," he demanded softly. I complied and he let me go. "Tell me your name."

     "I'm Colleen. And you are..?"

     "You're new, aren't you?" To that, I nodded once. 

     "That makes sense," he laughed to himself. The boy then went further into what he meant. "I mean, being the starting point guard, everyone knows me. Mason."

     He held his hand out, palm facing upwards, and I placed my own in his gently. Mason brought my hand up to his soft lips and kissed it ever so delicately, as though my hand was as fragile as a butterfly's wing. That was quite the opposite of me.

     "So you're into basketball," I said. The clouds began to part, uncovering the sun and allowing me to see Mason clearly. He let go of my hand and smoothed down blond gel backed hair. There was a smug smile upon his lips.

     "I'm not into it, it's my life. Don't get that confused," his tone was partially scolding, but it then relaxed. "When you watch one of my games, you'll learn. Then after you'll tell me about how great it was, over your favorite smoothie."

     I took that as an invitation for a date, so I accepted it with: "And when does this next game happen to be taking place?"

     "Whenever I feel like," Mason pushed off the ground and straightened his arms over his head to stretch. "Always be in the bleachers until then." He winked at me and strolled away. I had not imagined that, on my first day at boarding school, I would be able to score a jock with such ease.

     Our first date played out like a movie in my head; after a landslide victory by Riverdale's team, Mason would run past the cheering fans and gawking girls straight to me. He would grab my hand and take me away from the commotion, and we would walk to a 24/7 diner in the town center. The next morning, I would find myself—