Voice of Innocence: A Coming-Of-Age Sweet Romance

by Lindsay Detwiler

  “Well, yeah…I think it beats the alternative of sitting by myself or with that table,” he offered, poking his shoulder toward the table of science nerds. At that precise moment, one of the kids at the table had slapped a piece of pepperoni on his forehead while the others took bets on how long it would stick due to its chemical properties. Lovely. As we casually shifted toward the open seats, Corbin added, “Plus, we have to work on our project, remember?” He glanced at me, and I almost forgot where I was going. I tripped, catching myself before I completely wiped out. I flipped my newly cut hair, trying to regain a bit of composure.

  “I’ll warn you. You’re probably going to get hounded by my friends. We usually don’t have any boys at our table,” I muttered, slightly embarrassed, as we lowered ourselves into our seats.

  The table, previously a chattering hubbub of emotions and shrieks, became completely silent at our arrival. Several sets of eyes glanced from me to Corbin and back to me with curiosity. Corbin gazed assuredly back at the girls, beaming as he looked across the table. My heart sank a little. I was sure that he would lose interest in me after meeting my friends. Out of the four of us, I always considered myself the least attractive. If he didn’t lose himself in Katie’s gorgeously sun-kissed blonde hair, he would find himself glued to Hannah’s almost turquoise eyes or Jenn’s super toned body. It was a hopeless case.

  “Hey, guys! How was your first day so far?” I said, ignoring their obvious questions in an effort to seem normal.

  I hadn’t seen the girls since this morning; we didn’t have any classes together so far. I wasn’t quite ready to clarify the unexplainable presence that joined us at our table—I was still trying to figure it out myself. My tactic was ineffective as the girls ignored my question. Eyes glued to Corbin, they seemed ready to burst into pieces from curiosity.

  “So who is this?” Jenn asked bluntly, dodging my formal niceties in favor of their true interest.

  “Oh, right, this is Corbin Jones. He just moved here from Arizona,” I offered, turning to look at him. He widened his perfect grin, and I thought for a second that the girls were going to melt right there.

  “Hey, Corbin,” they said in almost perfect unison.

  “Hey, nice to meet you,” he acknowledged while grasping his fork and stabbing his meat patty. I tentatively nibbled on the mysterious brown glob on my tray (a.k.a Salisbury steak) and decided it wasn’t edible. I skipped right to the chocolate chip cookie. Meanwhile, the girls took turns asking Corbin questions as their food sat ignored and cold.

  “So you’re from Arizona, huh?” Jenn inquired. “Do you like it here in Pennsylvania?”

  “Um…yeah. It’s good so far,” he answered politely, glancing my way every few seconds.

  “Well, give it a few weeks. It’ll get to you,” Hannah chimed in. She was like the ying to Katie’s yang—always pessimistic, always finding the darkness in any situation. But I guess our group needed someone to balance out Katie’s enthusiasm and keep us in check with reality so that we didn’t float away into the clouds of a perfect blue sky.

  “Yeah, wait until winter,” Jenn added. “It’s so damn cold here that you’ll be on the first flight back home. It sucks.” The group nodded in agreement except for Katie, whose scowl was either directed at Jenn’s “harsh” language, or at the prospect of a negative characteristic being noted about her hometown.

  Katie gently leaped to the state’s defense like only she could. “Oh, come on guys. It’s not that bad. Besides, if it weren’t for the cold, we wouldn’t get to wear our awesome boots. That wouldn’t be any fun, would it?” Coming from anyone else, this comment would edge on irritating. Coming from Katie, however, you couldn’t help but smile. Her inner sweetness just effervesced through every word she said. Her attitude was so candid that you couldn’t possibly get mad.

  “I’m looking forward to the snow, actually,” Corbin admitted. “I’ve never really experienced it, not in any notable amount anyway. I think it’ll be fun.”

  “You’ve never been in snow?” I implored, not even trying to mask my incredulity.

  “Well, there’s not too much snow in the middle of the desert,” he smirked. Everyone laughed while I blushed at my own stupidity. This blushing thing was becoming a habit.

  “Oh, right,” I said sheepishly.

  “I’ve always wanted to go sled riding,” he explained. “Or maybe snowboarding.”

  “Maybe you and Emma could go sometime,” Katie offered with a mischievous grin. She peered my way as I murderously glared at her.

  “Yeah, that would be great,” he proclaimed. “It’s a date.” He beamed at Katie, then at me.

  “Whoa, wait a minute. I’m not going anywhere in the snow. No way. Not my thing,” I blurted.

  “Not your thing? The snow or the activities? Or me?” Corbin asked. At the last option, I had discerned a bit of worry in his eyes. His unabashed confidence, however, didn’t let the worry creep too far into his unflinching psyche.

  “All of the above. Well, not the part about you…the part about the snow. I hate cold. And sledding and snowboarding don’t sound so great either. I’m not very coordinated,” I admitted, looking at my plate.

  Hannah started to laugh. “Well, I have to agree with the coordinated part.” The other girls snickered, too, shaking their heads in agreement.

  “What am I missing?” Corbin questioned, that grin still plastered to his face.

  The group started chuckling, recalling their favorite story as of late. Jenn was the first to speak up.

  “Well, last month we thought it would be a great idea to rent some kayaks for a day. Simple enough, right? Sit down, paddle a little, if you fall in, you swim to the surface, right? Well, Emma here, she got in her kayak like the rest of us. We’re all paddling along just fine. After a little while, we’re like, ‘Wait…where’s Emma?’” Jenn narrated. I put my head down. Sometimes I thought that the group of social rejects might be a better lunch table choice for me. I glanced over and noted, quite impressed, that the pepperoni was still in place. Interesting. Corbin’s silent laughter snapped me back to the reality of my situation at the table of scientifically inept and socially humiliating girls I called my friends. Apparently Corbin was good at predicting, because he already knew what was coming.

  “Guys!” I yelled. “That’s enough…I’m still sitting here, remember?” But, as with most areas of my life, my thoughts were ignored. I started wishing I was like Jamie Rose, the head cheerleader. When she talked, people listened—even if it was only because she was a double-d with buttery blonde hair. Oh, and that her dad had more money than he knew what to do with. Jenn continued with her story, bringing me back to the unfortunate reality of the present.

  “So we glance behind us, and there’s Emma, stuck behind a rock. How she got stuck behind this boulder is beyond us. We all just steered right around it. She’s there frantically paddling, going in circles, trying to get un-wedged. Finally, she gets loose, smiling at herself. We wave her on, telling her to catch up.”

  By this time the girls were all hooting, already knowing how the story ended. Corbin’s melodious, deep laugh also echoed throughout the lunchroom, joining the chorus of traitors.

  “And then she flips it! Ker-Splash! Right in the water,” Hannah interrupted. “You should’ve seen her face. It was priceless.” I darted my glare into Hannah’s forehead, plotting schemes of revenge. I turned to Katie, the sweet one, hoping for some kind of support.

  “I’m sorry, Emma, it’s kind of funny,” Katie added quietly. Great. Even Katie was on their side.

  “Oh! What about the ice-skating story?” Hannah chimed in.

  “Enough!” I bellowed. By this time, though, I was grinning, too. “I think he’s got the point,” I asserted, eyeing Corbin.

  “So apparently I’m taking my life into my own hands if I take her out in the snow?” Corbin jested.

  “Yeah, or if you walk down the hall with me. Or go to the produce aisle in the grocery store. Or sit b
eside me at lunch, for that matter. That’s why you should definitely find another tour guide for your winter excursions,” I said. A part of me thought that it would be kind of fun, though, frolicking in the snow with Corbin Jones.

  “I think I’ll take my chances,” he decided, to my inner relief. “Maybe you’ll fair better in the snow than the water. Sled riding doesn’t require that much coordination, right? What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

  “She could hit a tree and die. Or have a traumatic brain injury that leaves her crippled for the rest of her life. Or there’s always hypothermia,” Hannah piped in without a moment’s hesitation.

  “Hannah! Enough!” Katie scolded.

  “See, there’s plenty that could go wrong,” I said.

  “It’ll be fine. The first day it snows, I’ll pick you up. It’s a date. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

  “Oh, crap, it’s almost time to leave,” Jenn proclaimed. Everyone got up to dump their untouched trays. Corbin promptly grabbed mine in front of me.

  “I’ve got it,” he said.

  “You don’t have to,” I argued, reaching for it.

  “What are partners for? Besides, I better get practicing, just in case you hit that tree.”

  “Corbin!” I bellowed. “It’s not funny.”

  “Yeah, it is,” Hannah added over her shoulder.

  I studied him from behind as he moseyed to the trash. His jeans were perfectly molded to his impeccably toned body. I couldn’t believe this amazing specimen of a guy had sat with me at lunch. Of all the girls he could have latched on to, for some reason he ended up with me. Fate had dealt me a pretty sweet card, at least for the time being. I knew that he was new and would probably be thankful for any type of social interaction. Once he settled into the area, he would become more particular about whom he spent time with. Once people got to know him, his popularity would increase, a guarantee that his time with me would decrease. For now, though, it seemed I had Corbin all to myself. I would make the best of it while I could.

  When he returned from his trash-dumping escapade, the bell rang and it was time for algebra class, my second-least favorite of the day. I waved goodbye to my friends, promising to get in touch after school if I didn’t see them before the end of the day. Corbin walked me to my class, giving us time to chat alone.

  “So, I was supposed to find out about you at lunch. And all we talked about was me again,” I complained.

  “You’re more interesting,” he said.

  “I doubt that. And besides, my collage is going to suck. I don’t know anything.”

  “You know I’m from Arizona,” he offered.

  “Yeah, well, that’s not enough.”

  “Well, it looks like I’ll have to sit with you again tomorrow at lunch.” His face seemed to flash self-assurance, as if he knew that I couldn’t say no. It’s not that he was cocky; Corbin Jones had simply mastered the fine balancing act of having an appealing dose of ego without overdoing it.

  “It’s kind of hard to find out about you with my friends and their ridiculous stories about me,” I observed sarcastically.

  “Well, maybe we’ll just have to find some time to spend together alone,” he hinted. This time, his tone was just a slight bit hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure how I’d react. I liked the fact that he didn’t have me completely pinned down yet. I grinned at the prospect of alone-time with Corbin. This was going to be a great year, I thought to myself. I could feel it.

  * * * *

  The rest of the week flew by. By Friday, Corbin Jones and I knew each other well enough to make our collages. We had to present them to the art class. Mine, of course, was basic. I drew the state of Arizona in the middle and colored it green, his favorite color. I added a snowman in the corner because he wanted to see snow. I also drew a sled, the emblem for his favorite band, and a skateboard. I drew a picture that somewhat resembled a dog, although no one could tell it was supposed to be his Mastiff, Henry. In reality, it looked more like a wild-eyed llama mixed with a sad excuse for a squirrel.

  Corbin’s, on the other hand, was breathtaking. He actually made me seem interesting. In the center was a square with myriad neon colors, which he said represented my character as a whole. I was serious and square-like to the outsider. When someone got to know me, Corbin proclaimed, they would realize that I had many different colors to my personality. I laughed a little at the tiny kayak in the corner of the collage. It was capsized. The rest of the class, who had seen some of my clumsy escapades firsthand, laughed, too. Corbin shared little details about me—my favorite color (pink), book (Wuthering Heights), and food (chocolate). He put an apple in the corner for my desire to be a teacher. As he divulged my favorites and character to the class, the kids who had known me for years seemed a bit surprised to learn so many new things. To them, I had probably always just been the quiet girl with her head buried in textbooks. To many, I still was that fifteen-year-old girl who read classics just for fun. Corbin, though, made me seem like so much more. Even I was impressed by myself as represented in the collage. At the end of the presentation, the class clapped more enthusiastically than usual, meaning about four people clapped instead of two, and Mrs. Shire looked very impressed with both Corbin and me.

  There was one emblem he didn’t talk about with the class, but I noticed it. I smiled because he had remembered this tiny detail. Later, I asked him why he had included it.

  “Because,” he said. “I think it’s important to who you are.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked, puzzled. It was just a tattoo.

  “I think you like the idea of it because it’s what you want more than anything. I think you want to be free. Free to choose for yourself what you will do. Free to just live.”

  That afternoon, I walked home from the bus stop thinking about how right Corbin was. How could someone who had only known me for a week know me so well already? I beamed to myself at my luck at being seated next to him. As I put my band uniform on for the football game that Friday night, I began to wonder how long it would be until the first snow. I hoped it would come early this year.

  Chapter Four: Black and White

  Corbin

  The ever-familiar, yet ever-shocking blare of the door’s buzzer snaps me out of my dream. Lying on my back on the neck-stiffening “bed,” I glance at the peeling, drab ceiling. It blends perfectly with the four walls that rise to meet it, creating a feeling of emptiness and sameness without any effort. My eyes flicker to my desk on the farthest wall and to the tiny, worn picture taped to its edge. All day, my eyes have been relentlessly floating to that picture.

  Fingers laced and arms outstretched, I yawn out of boredom and anxiety more than a craving for rest. Rest is something that overflows in this room. Despite the worries, the yelling, and the mind-splitting buzzer, the overflowing hours of tedium often lead to excessive hours of dozing. Luckily for me, my roommates over the years have also bought into this sentiment, leaving me to waste away many unwanted hours.

  My knee joints crack as I edge off the bed and onto my feet. I pace over to my desk in my wool socks, reaching down to readjust them. A rip in the one toe allows my bare skin to touch the shockingly cold floor. I have grown used to always being numb, both inside and out.

  I block out Frank’s wet, gulping snores as I pull out the crudely made metal chair at my desk. I’ve lost count of how many other men have shared my room over the years—last time I counted, it was seven. As roommates go, Frank’s been pretty decent. He spends most of his time sleeping or reading Steinbeck. Sometimes I dream of wrapping my fingers around his neck when he tirelessly speaks to me in the riddling quotes of the author, but I always refrain. I remember all too well what it’s like to have a roommate whose only contact with you is a physical altercation. Frank and I have a workable situation as tenants of our room, and we respect each other’s privacy as best as we can. We stay out of each other’s way, and we don’t destroy each other’s shit. That’s the most one can hope for in this
place.

  My fingers trace the familiar path along the picture’s edges. At first glance, the picture isn’t anything spectacular. It isn’t even a professional picture. She’s wearing a simple T-shirt in the picture, something you would wear around your house on a lazy day. She isn’t even posing. It was a snapshot I took when she was unsuspecting, which are, in my opinion, the absolute best kind of pictures.

  The picture’s in black and white, so only the details of her facial expressions shine through. Her mouth is partially open in the early forms of a laugh. Her eyes squint with the promise of sheer joy that is so typical of an eighteen-year-old with a life ahead of her. She looks off to the side, to something that can’t be seen in the photograph. Only I know what is to the side because I was there. When I look at the picture, though, I don’t just see that moment with this eighteen-year-old-girl. I see a life. I see the years leading up to the picture and the years that were to come after the picture. I keep this image close because it is the best summary of my life before it went to hell. It was a life of excitement, of spontaneity, of joy. Of her.

  As the clatter of doors nearby threatens to jar me out of my thoughts, I choose to ignore it. So much of life, whether it be a career or a relationship or a reaction, is up to choice. Here, there are few choices left. When I am faced with one, no matter how small, I grasp it with all of my might. I don’t let the cursing or the fighting or the threats next door shake my concentration. I let the picture transport me to a different time, a time when unplanned snapshots and a beautiful, genuine woman were a reality and not only a piece of cheap photograph paper between two downtrodden hands. I let it indolently and aimlessly take me back to the memories that shaped me, the memories that led up to the picture, the memories that made me wish that this picture wasn’t the last.

  Chapter Five: Magnetism

  Corbin

  Memories