The bell rings, and I fly out of my seat and through the door of my math class faster than you can say quadratic equation. I make it to the door that leads out to the quad and dash across the grass.
Even after hauling butt across the quad, I still don't make it to my locker before Nora appears at her locker three down from mine. Her drama class is just down the hall, and she hangs out at her locker for ages, and I'm always almost late to my art class because I don't want to have an awkward conversation with her. Because our lockers are literally right next to each other, because she and I used to be best friends.
So I stand just outside the door until Nora finally moves on to her next class, and I rush in, running right into a girl I didn't see. It's Steph, Drew's friend Chase's girlfriend's best friend.
"Jeez, freak! Watch where you're walking." she says as I stagger back.
I roll my eyes and don't bother to apologize. I go to my locker, twist out the combination, yank it open, and slide my large sketch book out.
I make a mad dash for the elevator and swipe my key card in the card reader. Then I do an impatient dance while I wait for it to come down three floors. When the door pings and opens, I rush in and jam the close-door button and the third-floor button.
The old elevator jerks and hums, and the lights flicker, which is all normal for this old hunk of junk. The long slow ride up to the third floor, I visualize the drawing of Nessa I've been working on, so that I'll be ready to start working the instant class starts.
I rush into the classroom and my eyes fall on a guy sitting in my seat. I can't help but gape at him when I recognize him as the guy from the epilepsy clinic yesterday. What are the odds of that?
He has dark shaggy curls that make him look so much like Jimmy. He even has Jimmy's nice tan. He's got Jimmy's skinny physique. His brown eyes are totally different than Jimmy's though. And his nose is cuter. And he has high cheekbones which is way different than Jimmy. So his face is different, but his hair and body are practically carbon copy.
I wonder what his name is.
Finally, I realize I've been staring at him, and I make wide eyes at the floor.
"Oh, Mirna, perfect timing," Mrs. Rivera says. "The newbies need an art locker. Would you take them down?"
"Sure," I say. I smile big at him and hold my hand up in a cute little wave. The look on his face speaks loud and clear. He remembers me, too.
I plop my stuff down on the table in front of him. His eyes follow me as I back up to the teacher's desk, where Mrs. Rivera is flipping through her locker binder. She takes out a locker card and hands it to me.
I glance at the card and see that his locker is on the first floor, just like mine. I put the card in my pocket, head back over, and wave him up with both hands. "Come on." I head for the door, but he doesn't follow me right away. When I look back and stand waiting, he finally gets up and follows me out.
But when we reach the hallway, he glances around with a deer-in-the-headlights look on his face and freezes right outside the door.
"Are you coming?" I ask, hands on my hips. He's not even trying to hide how uncomfortable this makes him. Jeez, what's the big deal?
Oh, maybe because of his epilepsy, he doesn't feel safe with me? Hmm, that sucks. I've never had such severe seizures that I don't feel safe. I feel for him, seriously!
I start off toward the stairwell, and he finally starts following me. I let him catch up to me, so we're walking side by side. I cannot help but study his face, looking for all the little details in his features that are different than Jimmy's. Like how his eyes kind of kiss in the corners. And how his lips are a little fuller, almost pouty, which is super cute. And his eyebrows are thinner, almost like he waxes them, which of course he doesn't, because he's a guy, but that's just the impression I get.
"So, uh ... what grade are you?" he asks. I like the sound of his voice, slightly high for a guy, but very smooth. I bet he's a great singer.
"Sophomore," I say, and I raise my eyebrows at him.
"Junior," he says.
"Really?" I tilt my head back to look up at him. I know I'm short, but he's nearly a foot taller than me. With that kind of height, I figured he was a senior.
"Yeah, I'm just tall for my height," he says, and then like he only just realized what he said, his face caves in with embarrassment. It's so cute.
"Oh, I see." I give him an encouraging smile. "I assumed you were old for your age." I laugh at my own joke, hoping to lighten the mood a little, but he's still embarrassed. "I didn't catch your name," I say, to keep him from dwelling on how much he is failing to hold a conversation.
"Oh, Kaden Hastings."
Kaden ... I cannot think of a rhyme for his name, which is how I always remember the names of new people I meet. I purse my lips. I don't want to forget his name. Kaden with hair so curly it'll never straighten. Well, that's the best I can do, I guess.
"Kaden. I'm Miri Horton, by the way." I reach out to shake his hand. He hesitates and then accepts the handshake, and I make sure to do things properly, the way Jimmy taught me. Match his grip, wait to shake until we're locked good and tight, two pumps, and let go.
"Mirna, huh? What a normal name," he says, suddenly going sarcastic on me.
"Oh, I know. Way weird, right?" I fold my arms behind my back and gaze forward down the hallway, thinking about how annoying it is that my real mother named me such an old-fashioned name. And then split. Literally the only thing she gave me is my god-awful name. "You can call me Miri if you want," I add, hoping the nickname will stick.
He smiles a devilish grin. "Like that movie, Zack and Miri Make a Porno."
My face goes hot. I do not want him thinking about that movie every time he sees me. "Just call me Mirna," I say hastily as I stare down the hallway. I catch him staring at me, and he looks down. That's when I notice his cute ears peeking out of his hair. They're red with embarrassment. Dang, he is so cute.
The hallway is almost empty. I head for the stairs and start down with him hurrying after me. The only sound is our loud footsteps echoing down the stairwell.
"The fine arts lockers are on the first floor," I say, with a casual tone, trying not to dwell on how awkward this whole moment has turned out to be. "Mostly they're for instruments, but the art people use them too."
The bell rings as we reach the first floor.
I lead Kaden down the hallway until I find his locker in the first section on the right side. The lockers are stacked two high, big squares. 705 The third locker on top. "Oh, lucky you. Your locker is close." I stop and study the combination on the card: 0 - 25 - 12. I spin the combination, pull the locker open, and step aside for him. "Keep this in a safe place, you have to return it at the end of the year." I hand the card to him.
"You know my combination now," he says as he pockets the card.
I cannot help but grin. "Yeah, you better watch out. I might steal your stuff."
Finally, he laughs, and dimples appear on his cheeks. Dang, this guy couldn't get any cuter!
"Let's take the elevator back up," I suggest, because we've missed too much of my favorite class as it is.
"There's an elevator?" he asks.
"Yeah." I beckon him to follow me.
He slams his locker shut and walks next to me all the way down the hallway. I pull out my key card and run it through the card scanner near the door. The elevator beeps and opens. I step into the elevator and push a button. He rushes in after me. The doors ease shut, and the elevator jerks and hums and lurches up.
Kaden makes a panicked face at the flickering lights.
I cannot help but smile at him. "Don't worry about the elevator. It runs just fine, but it's old so the lights are weird." Then I realize this must be his first time in the elevator. "Didn't you get an elevator key card?" I ask, unable to help myself.
He shrugs. "Where d'you get one?"
"The nurse's office," I say, and he makes an uncomfortable face I can't quite interpret. "It's mostly for people with wheelchairs or crutches," I add. "But they hand them out to people like us too."
"I don't need an elevator to get to class. I'm not helpless," he says with an intense look on his face.
"Okay, fine," I say, trying to backpedal. "I only use it because the stairs suck when they get really crowded. And hey, if you have to be a freak, at least you get to ride the elevator."
The seriously awful look on his face only deepens. Oh. That is not what I meant.
"Oh my gosh," I say. "I'm such a bitch. I didn't mean to say that you're—that we're ... you know." I heave a deep sigh and try to push my hair behind my ear, but it's up in a ponytail, so there's no hair to tuck behind my ears. "I just thought you might feel the same way about it."
"Yeah? Well you have no idea how I feel," he snaps.
This is not how I wanted this conversation to go! The elevator doors open, but I grab his arm before he can walk out, so I can apologize properly.
"I'm sorry." I stare into his deep brown eyes. "I know bad jokes don't make it go away. Nothing can make it go away." I bet what happened to him is even worse than what happened to me. I'm such an idiot for bringing it up at all.
"I don't need you to feel sorry for me," he snaps, and he yanks his arm from my grasp, snapping his hand on my elbow. The contact makes my elbow ache, and my throat goes tight as I get a mental flash: Air bag going off, glass shattering.
All I can do is look away and pull my arm up to my chest. I cradle my elbow, willing the ache to go away. But the ache in my arm travels up to my throat, and I nearly start crying in front of this guy I don't really know.
In the silence, the elevator doors ease shut, trapping us both inside.
I try to keep my mind blank, but it starts whirling with images of the crash. The hospital afterwards, the pain, my arm in a cast. Trying to take a shower afterward. And the gaping hole the crash left in my life.
"Listen," he says. "I know what you meant. It's what they think." He nods his head in the general direction of the art building. "People make really bad jokes and talk like it's funny. They have no fricking clue how much it sucks ... I guess I didn't realize that you actually get it."
"Sure, I get it." The idea of getting to finally have a friend who understands what it's like puts a giant smile on my face. "But still, I shouldn't tell you how to feel. I just met you." I make a point to hold his eye contact. "I won't hold it against you if you don't hold it against me."
I can see his brain whirring as he contemplates my words. In the silence I think about how I nearly messed this up, and I hold my breath until he finally says, "Okay," and nods at me.
I let myself smile at his genuinely happy brown eyes. "Good." I push the button to open the elevator doors and raise my eyebrows at him. He nods, and we turn together and make our way down the art wing.
"Thanks for taking me to my locker," he says.
"No prob." I smile another big cheesy grin because I'm so happy that Mrs. Rivera picked me to take him.
"Your eyes are amazing," he says suddenly. Then he promptly stares at the floor as his ears go red, peeking out of his curly black hair.
I try to hold it in, but I can't help but laugh. "Jeez, you're moody. One minute you're chewing me out and smacking me around and the next minute you're hitting on me."
He winces. "I'm sorry I hit you. Does it hurt?" He gestures to my elbow.
"Oh." I look down and realize I'm still holding my arm. I let go. "Don't worry, you barely touched me."
We reach the classroom, and I lead the way in, trying to play cool when in reality, the accident left me completely wrecked and thinking about it just now was hell all over again. At least he still wants to be friends despite how I put my foot in my mouth during our very first conversation.
You're one lucky girl, Miri, I think to myself. Except if I really was lucky, then that wreck never would have happened.
There's another new guy in here, sitting next to the chair that used to be mine. Oh no, the hot new guy has a hot brother. I feel my face go hot. I can feel it already. This is going to get very awkward very quickly. It seems that I'm doomed to a love triangle, and I thought that kind of thing only happened in movies and TV shows.
Kaden takes the seat next to his brother. Instead of curly black hair, Kaden's brother has short brown hair that is slightly spikey. He has the same golden tan though, and their faces are almost identical. They have the same cute little nose, the same thin eyebrows, the same high cheekbones, the same subtle chin.
I hastily grab my things and move to the second row, where Martin used to sit, before he moved away. I have to sit in the same row as Drew, and I lean my head on my left hand and stare daggers down at my notebook, so I don't have to look at him where he sits two chairs to the left. Ugh, I wish we hadn't chosen to be in the same art class! But we both love Mrs. Rivera, so it just happened this way. Ugh, I hate thinking about Drew. It makes tears well up in my eyes no matter how hard I try to move on.
I wipe tears out of my eyes and glance at Jessica's notebook. She's working on a still life, and I spot the fruits arranged up front. I open my notebook to the drawing of Nessa that I started yesterday. If I work hard on it, I'll probably finish it today. I'm happy to be in the back now, out of Mrs. Rivera's line of sight. She'd be furious at me if she catches me drawing a dog instead of apples and oranges. It's kind of ironic, actually. Even in my favorite class I'm going to end up with missing assignments. Like it matters when I'm going to be gone in a week.
I hesitate. Mrs. Rivera likes to get up and roam around to see what people are working on. I don't want her to catch me ignoring her assignment in front of the new guys. So I turn the page in my notebook and hastily draw a still life.
~*~
2,700 Words