I'm dreading school today because of my awkward run in with Flint at the mall. I'm worried about seeing Cam too, he hasn't spoken to me since Saturday. I don't care that he's hanging out with his friends, but the feeling of being an outsider in my own circle of friends is wearing me down. Like on Saturday when Rose and Tanya had a whole secret conversation with their eyes, and I was left feeling like a third wheel.
I'm running late, and by the time I get downstairs all I have time for is a small chocolate chip muffin and a bottle of water to go. My brothers for once are quietly sitting at the table.
"Derek, let's go." I snip.
I don't give him a chance to say anything else as I charge for the garage door. It takes him a few extra minutes to get his ass in gear.
Derek grasps the seats of the car for dear life as we cruise through the highway. I almost skid into the parking spot at the back of the lot.
I've made it with enough time to go to my locker and get my things. As I turn the corner I catch sight of Cam leaning against my locker. He's never waited before, and I fear the worst, but the moment he spots me his face lights up the way it used to. Without hesitation he grabs me and pulls me into his lips. He's eager and looking for something, maybe a way to redeem himself for something he did. The thought makes my stomach hurt. I touch his chest and push away from him, putting distance between us.
"Let's do something this week, like maybe something in the backseat?"
He reaches for me again, and I lean back to avoid his touch. I hug my arms tight to my chest and rub along the upper part of my arm. I may not have evidence that something happened with Cam at the party, but there's a nagging voice inside my head telling me to be cautious.
"Please?" He tilts his head, and smiles. A dimple forms on his right cheek.
I'm usually all for having a makeout session in the backseat of his Chevy, but today I'm just not feeling it. I'm having a hard time acting like whatever is going on isn't bothering me.
"Maybe," I say, giving a fake smile.
"How's tomorrow? It doesn't have to be a backseat date either."
His eyes are trying to grab hold of mine, but I don't allow them too. I release a shaky breath and try not to cry.
"Smoothie City?" I ask.
"Sounds amazing babe. I gotta jet for now." He kisses my cheek and runs off before I have the chance to respond.
I spend the rest of the morning attempting to lose myself in school work, and for the first time all semester I think I even aced a geometry pop quiz. By the time the bell rings for Creative Writing I'm back to being my usual self, but nervous about what assignment Mr. Shepherd will assign us for the week.
"Ladies and gents," Mr. Shepherd says.
He walks around to lean on his desk as the bell rings. The door flies open, turning the students attention towards it.
"Sorry man, I got caught up if you know what I mean." Flint wiggles his brows.
"I do, and keep it to yourself man. Oh, and Mr. Rogers?"
Flint pauses halfway to his seat. "Yes?"
"One more tardy and it's detention." He warns him.
A few students snicker at Mr. Shepherd's comments, including myself. I shift in my seat as Flint makes his way over with a smug look on his face. He sits behind me in his usual spot. My desk shakes as he props his feet up again on the rack underneath. I close my eyes and breathe deeply, hoping this week's assignment won't be too crazy.
"I had a chance to read your poems over the weekend, and let me just say I'm impressed. There were some of you I had my doubts about, but all of you did amazing work," Mr. Shepherd says.
Everyone remains quiet as he continues. "This week I'm changing things up a little. For your writing assignment you and your partner must write about each other. I want you to step into your partner's shoes for a day."
Some of the class begins to moan, and I'm right there with them.
"I don't care if that means spending the school day with them, after school, chatting on the phone, or virtually. Whatever you do, you have to spend some time with that person to get to know them. Has anyone heard the saying, ''before you criticize someone you should walk a mile in their shoes?"
He glances around the room, some nod, some don't.
"Well that's what this is inspired from, so walk in your partner's shoes and find out what they are all about. Today though, we need to focus on something a little different, so if you'll all open up your text ...."
I tune him out as he discusses something about our textbook assignments. My hands grow clammy and my head spins. Getting to know Flint is not something I'm looking forward to.
As I'm lost in my thoughts a white piece of paper lands on my desk. I sigh, and slowly open it trying to not make a lot of noise.
I'm free today, at my house after school. 21 Thompson Ave. Be there or be square.
I roll my eyes at his ridiculous attempt to be funny. If I want to pass this class I have to do this. I scribble a quick ok on the bottom of the page and rip it, so I have his address. I turn only for a brief moment to put it on his desk.
For the rest of class I try to ignore the fact that he's behind me. The hairs on my neck stand, like someone is watching me. I want to turn and confront him, but let it go.
I'm relieved when the bell rings. I don't even wait around to talk to Mr. Shepherd about my article for this month's paper. I spend the rest of the day avoiding my friends, especially Cam. After school I don't stop at my locker. I head straight for my car so that nobody questions where I'm going.
***
The public library is a block away from Flint's house. I worry if I park my car in front of his house people will talk, and I don't want that. Most of my friends live where I do, but there are some in this neighborhood, and everyone knows my car.
I have to convince myself into going to his house. It takes me at least twenty minutes of arguing inside my head before I get the courage to go. I went through all the positives to going, and the main one is that creative writing is my favorite class, and I'd hate to get a bad grade because of my issues with Flint.
I bundle up. The walk isn't far, but the temperature has dropped drastically and I don't want to freeze. Flint lives in a small red brick house halfway down Thompson. I stop at the end of the walkway taking in everything. His car sits in the dirt covered driveway to my left, and just looking at it annoys me.
The walkway needs a serious uplift, there are roots popping out, leaving huge bumps along the path to the house. The front steps could probably fall apart the minute I step on them. Jagged edges stick out, and some chunks of stone lay on the brownish grass beside it.
I take a huge leap of faith and make my way up to the door. The white screen door hangs from its hinges and the big wooden door behind it is peeling. I knock on the inner door, then stand and wait. A few seconds later there's a commotion behind the door. When it finally opens I'm staring into the eyes of a mini version of Flint.
"Hello," I say.
"Hi, you're pretty," mini Flint says.
"Uh, I... uh... thanks?"
Flint appears behind him and places both his hands on the young boy's shoulders. The boy reaches his hand out to shake mine, "I'm Connor."
"Hi Connor, I'm Marnie." I give him a curt smile.
"Even your name is pretty. Come in," Connor says, moving aside.
Flint laughs and allows me to come in. I take a step into a very small outdated living room. The carpet I step onto is old and raggedy, like it's been there for many years. Over in the corner sits an old couch with holes, and stuffing flows out of it. It looks like if you sit on the couch it might eat you alive. There is a flat screen hanging on the wall across from the couch, which seems to be the only updated thing in the room.
"Flint is helping me make cupcakes. Do you want to help put frosting on them?" Connor asks, taking hold of my hand.
His tiny hands are wrapped around mine.
Flint clears his throat. "Connor, I'm sure she doesn't..."
"Cupcakes?" I interrupt. "I love cupcakes, what flavor of frosting do you have?"
I want to give him a piece of my mind, but I won't in front of Connor.
"The rainbow girl, the rainbow." Connor says it with a straight face, allowing the tension in the room to dissipate.
Flint offers to take my jacket and brings it over to the hallway closet, while Connor leads me into the kitchen. It's like a messy version of Cupcake Wars in here. I take in the piles of mix scattered on the small wooden table in the center of the room, the filled cupcake pans, and icing all lined up behind it.
"Parker says my cupcakes suck ass," Connor says.
The blood drains from my face as Flint scolds Connor for his use of words.
"Sorry, Flint says you shouldn't cuss in front of the ladies," he says.
"Flint is right about that."
Connor bobs over to the counter and steps onto a wooden stool. He turns, his shaggy blonde hair flying outward as he does.
I sense that I'm being judged as well, like this is some sort of test and if I do one thing wrong I'll fail. I catch Flint's eyes as he leans against the fridge with his arms crossed. I give him a once over, but try to not look so judgy. I take in his muscles and tattoos. The blue eyes - damn those eyes, and I swear my heart skips several beats. I shake away the thoughts as Connor taps my arm.
"Marnie, help! Look at all these colors."
I avert my attention back to Connor and the messy counter. Lined up in rainbow order are several different colored tubs of icing. There are a few cupcakes that already have frosting, mostly it ended up on the counter rather than the actual cupcake.
"Someone I know taught me how to ice it just right, can I show you?"
Lucille was the one who taught me how to frost a cupcake. When I was little she and I would spend hours working on making the perfect cupcakes. The two of us haven't done anything like that in a long time. Thinking about it, I miss spending time with her too.
Connor claps his hands together and nods big. "Yes, please."
I direct my attention over to Flint. His chest is puffed and chin jutted as he takes in everything. I hate that we're both sizing each other up, waiting for the other to crack or say something. Neither of us do, and I'm sure Connor has a lot to do with it.
"Do you have any sandwich bags? Oh, scissors and a spoon too."
I glare at him as I start to gather all of the tubs and take them to the table. In the corner of my eye I find Flint gathering the items I asked for. As I bring the last container over he stands in front of me holding out what I need. I reach out for them and our hands touch just enough to cause my body to react in that weird way again. Both of us pause, but turn away quickly. I wonder if he felt it too.
I grab the purple frosting and start to scoop it into one of the sandwich bags. I show him each step, and he picks it up fast and begins to help. Connor and I work as a team while Flint stands there watching.
On the bottom of the cupcake I write his name in red. It takes me a few minutes to make it just right. I show him the finished product and his eyes light up.
"Flint Flint!!! Look at this!!" he yells.
Flint rolls his eyes and pushes himself off the fridge. He slowly walks towards the table. Connor is admiring my work with a huge smile on his face. He hands it to Flint. I wait for him to make some sort of snarky comment.
He lifts his gaze towards me. "Thanks," he mouths.
I shrug like it's no big deal and go back to helping Connor with the rest of his cupcakes. Connor picks it up quickly and his cupcakes are coming out great.
"I'm going to save some for mom, she will love these." He glances over at me and smiles. I'd never admit it out loud, but I'm enjoying my time with Connor. He's a fun kid to be around.
It takes us about a half an hour to decorate all of the cupcakes we've made.
"We better clean this mess up, buddy," Flint says, as he finishes up the last one.
"I'll help." I offer, and start to gather some of the utensils we used
"You don't have to."
It's the first time I've heard him talk in the past half an hour. I glance up to find a questioning look in his eyes. He probably doesn't realize that I know how to take care of myself.
"It's fine," I snap.
Flint backs off and begins to grab some of the containers off the table.
"Hey Flint, can we listen to music on your phone? I love your songs and it will help me clean."
Connor breaks the uncomfortable silence, and I'm thankful for him being there. Connor presses his hands together begging Flint to turn on his music.
"Of course, buddy." He playfully messes up Connor's hair.
Connor giggles.
He pulls the phone from his pocket and the two of them search through his phone for music. I continue to clean while they find something to listen to. A familiar song plays through the tiny speakers. He places it on a clean surface untouched by the mess.
I search for sponges near the sink, while the other two start to throw things out. Connor bounces around the kitchen and every once in a while I think I hear Flint singing along. I'm singing in my head, but the words are slowly coming out of my mouth. As I dry the last dish one of my favorite songs comes on, and I find myself singing out loud.
"I wanna get myself out of this bed," Flint joins in.
I set the dish rag down, and in the corner of the room Connor is pretending the broom is a guitar. It's huge compared to his tiny body and he's having a hard time holding it, but he doesn't seem to care. I take the spatula that I finished cleaning out and start singing into it like it's a microphone. Flint stops singing for a moment to roll his eyes at me, but does it with a smirk. Once the chorus comes up we're all belting out the lyrics together. The itch to be on stage overwhelms me again as we sing and dance around the kitchen. I haven't gone into the music room at home in a few years, but the more I sing here with Flint the more I want to.
The song fades and someone claps from the entryway. A woman around dad's age stands there with a brown grocery bag in hand. She wraps her arms around it so that she can clap.
"Mom!" Flint says, shutting off the music.
"Oh, we have a guest." Eyes wide she stares at me.
My face burns with embarrassment. I wasn't expecting to meet any of his family while I was here. I thought we'd just sit down somewhere and ask a few questions and I'd be home.
"Mom this is Marnie, we are working on a school project together." His voice is acidic, but I ignore him and smile at his mom.
The poor woman looks as if she hasn't slept in weeks, with purple bags under her eyes and unkempt hair with strands of gray sticking out.
"Oh, Marnie dear, it's so nice to meet you." Her smile is genuine.
She sets the grocery bag down on the table. It's no wonder she looks so tired, she's wearing scrubs with Brooke Wood General written on them. She must be a nurse at the local hospital.
"Same to you." I finally manage to say.
She gives a soft smile, and then puts her attention back on Flint. "Flint, can you go get the groceries in the car? I got that rotisserie chicken. I need to put it in the oven ASAP before he realizes its store bought. He said he would be home soon."
"Yeah, of course."
Flint doesn't hesitate to help his mom, at least he has some redeeming qualities. He excuses himself and disappears leaving me with his mom and Connor. She smiles in my direction.
"Can I help with anything?"
I may have a lot of things done for me but that doesn't mean I won't help if someone needs it, and she clearly looks like she needs help.
"Sure dear. Thank you. Can you put this in the freezer?" She hands me a few boxes of waffles
I take them in my arms and carry them to the freezer.
"Are you staying for dinner, sweetie?" she asks, as I shut the door.
"Uh I...."
"She's leaving before dinner..." Flint interrupts us.
He's got his arms full of plastic grocery bags. Wow, I guess that's my cue to leave. I'm not even sure if I have anything I could even write about at this point. I should have known that this project would be a total bust and will probably bring my grade down by a whole letter.
"I should probably leave now anyway, it was nice to meet you, Mrs..."
"Call me Ramona dear."
She says it like her son and I are best friends and that she'll see me again. I smile anyway, attempting to be polite.
"Okay. Ramona, it was nice to meet you, thank you for offering."
Before I walk out I make sure to say goodbye to Connor. He looks a little sad that I'm leaving. I push past Flint not making eye contact, but bumping his shoulder with mine as I leave. He grunts from the impact and I don't bother to look back.
I open the door of the hallway closet to retrieve my things when a hand reaches up to stop me. I gasp. His body is so close to mine that I'm surrounded by his warmth. He steps around me and hangs the jacket back in its place.
"I never said you had to leave now," he grumbles in a low voice.
"I know you don't want me here. I don't really want to be here either. Let's make this easy for each other. You can email me or text me something about you and your life. I could do the same and we won't even have to spend any time together..."
I try to grab my jacket again, but he stops me. My attention snaps to the hand he's got around my wrist."Why would you want me to stay? We're only doing this for the project, I would have never come for any other reason."
His nostrils flare. "So typical."
"What does that mean?" I ask, just above a whisper.
His eyes find the floor, then he looks up again. His fingers gently brush against mine. I hate how the sensation makes me shiver. "Just stay, okay?"
My eyes meet his. "Why?"
I'm confused by him suddenly wanting me to stay and hang out with him and his family. If we didn't have a project due on Friday he probably would have just kicked me out.
"You don't understand..,"
"Okay enlighten me," I interrupt.
He tugs his hand away from mine with a little more force than I expected. I hate how cold my hand feels without it there. I tuck my hand into my sleeve trying to feel something again.
"You really want to see how the other side lives?"
He has to look down because of how much taller he is, and it makes me feel so small.
"That is the assignment isn't it? I refuse to fail."
He stares at me for a few heartbeats, his lips pressed together watching me with intense hungry eyes. "Fine. Just don't fall in love with me, rich girl," he smirks. The Flint I hate suddenly returns.
"Ha," I laugh."Not likely. This isn't some Rom Com, it's real life."
I stand on my toes to get to his height, but it's still not close enough. His eyes dart down and linger on my lips. I scowl at him.
His laugh echoes in the closet as he swoops his head close. I have nowhere to go, I'm trapped between the massive amount of jackets and Flint's hungry eyes. "To me it looked like you lived in a Rom Com world," he bites back.
"Screw you!" I say in a low enough tone that his mother and Connor won't hear.
He laughs and it's the most real laugh I've ever heard from him. He annoys me so much that I have to talk myself out of smacking him.
"After you." He waves his hands in front of him.