Dream #2: I’m being watched. My whole life. I can’t see them, but they’re watching me. And the feeling is getting stronger.
The next day I found it hard to concentrate in school. I’ve always been a pretty good student. I mean, I get by without having to try too hard. Okay, that sounds bad, but what I mean is that I guess I have some natural ability and intelligence, so with just a bit of effort I can get good grades. Anyway, the point is, I spent the day only half-listening to the parade of teachers who all earnestly shared their wisdom with the cream of the crop, smug in the knowledge that they were shielded from the horrors of the New York public school system.
I could hardly take my eyes off Noon’s hypnotic features and his bizarre body language. But I was forced to, because in every class except homeroom I was seated somewhere in front of him. And Cruz was always seated somewhere beside or in front of me. He just slacked off, drifting away for long periods, doodling in the margins and following the beat of a song playing in his head.
“Miss Marriner, do you know the answer?” asked Mrs. Poborsky, the Geography teacher.
My eyes flicked down to my textbook. The only problem was that I hadn’t heard the question. “I’m sorry, I don’t know,” I admitted.
She wasn’t so easily fooled and wasn’t about to let me get away with it. “Do you even know the question?” she continued, like a dog with a bone.
This was bad. Day two and I looked like a total flake. I shook my head, ashamed.
“Which two countries are in both Europe and Asia?” she repeated.
“Oh,” I exclaimed, relieved at the chance to redeem myself. I knew that I knew this. It was on the tip of my tongue. But it just wouldn’t pop into my brain! Even worse, there was a map on the page in front of me but my mind refused to focus. I shifted in my chair, as though sitting upright would give me clarity. “It’s... It’s... um...”
“Yes?”
“Gosh, ma’am...” A small wave of snickering spread around the classroom. Afterward I realized it was probably directed more at my choice of old-fashioned Midwestern vocabulary than my ignorance of geography. “I know, but I really can’t think of it right now.”
Mrs. Poborsky sighed. “Anyone else know?” Several hands shot up. A girl with a headband and braces was chosen and revealed with a self-satisfied half-grin that Russia and Turkey straddled both continents. “Well done,” said the teacher, then directed an admonishing glare at me: “And next time, Miss Marriner, please pay more attention.”
I nodded again and glanced over at Cruz, who was grinning at me conspiratorially. I couldn’t help flashing a smile back in his direction and felt a spark zap through my stomach, strong enough to be both uncomfortable and pleasurable.
When we left the classroom, Cruz caught up with me. “Wait up,” he said.
“Hey, Cruz,” I answered shyly. “What’s up?”
“Nothing,” he continued, and I knew that he meant it. Awkward.
“So... where are you headed?” I asked, having nothing better to say.
“The lockers. To, you know, dump my books.”
“Me too,” I nodded earnestly. Could I have sounded any more retarded?
Our lockers were next to each other, which made for more awkwardness as we “after-you-no-after-you”-ed. We finally managed to get into position and the nervous laughter subsided. Then he opened his locker and my eyes opened wide in amazement. The inside was covered in doodles taped to the sides and door, some in pencil, some in pen, but all small and incredibly well drawn. In fact, they were more like miniature artworks than doodles. And each one was of an expressionless face.
