*
A couple of months later, Tom and Erina sat in that same spot where they had first met. Erina had already started thinking of the place as emotionally indispensable while they boy just liked the peace and quiet there, according to his words.
He was working on his sculpture, as he called it. Erina liked watching him work and talk about his days. She had learned well enough that he liked to talk about his day. Sometimes Erina shared some snippets as well, but it was mostly Tom who talked.
She was glad that the way their school was set up prevented him and her from meeting in classes or in the hallway. It was a strange system that the school into three buildings, based on alphabetical order, but it meant that he didn’t have to know about how she was treated in school by Rebecca’s group or shunned by all others. To him, she was just good old Erina.
Not that Tom was particularly popular. He said that despite being a good player, he was barely tolerated by his teammates and others. Erina couldn’t see how that could be true, for to her he was a wonderful person. Sometimes she tried to offer suggestions or encouragement to make Tom feel better about himself, but if she took it too far he would sometimes snap at her.
Erina was a smart girl and had learned to work around Tom Parker’s temper rather early. Still, he could be extra irritable at times, and in those days she kept quiet and let him vent as his black eyes shined brightly with fire barely held in check. It happened only when he worked, hacking away at the block, which was now looking a bit like the figure of a woman.
She had never asked the boy what he was actually making, but she noted the improvements silently.
Erina was snapped out of the confines of her mind by Tom calling out her name while he wiped slight perspiration off his brow, smearing in with small particles of wood.
“I’m sorry, what?” she asked, eliciting a momentary change in his expression.
It disappeared in an instance and the boy, now dressed in a vest to accentuate his arms, said, “I... I was wondering if you, like, wanted to go out to the movies or to go hang out sometime.” He had a strange look on his face, and avoided looking her in the eyes, electing instead to fidget about. For an instant Erina worried about him accidentally stabbing himself in the thigh with that knife of his, then she thought about pointing out to him that they were hanging out right NOW. Then she stopped dead in her tracks and her cheeks turned quite hot and probably a shade of red fit enough to compete with her hair. Even more naturally, she began to stammer quite incoherently for the next eternity or so. B-but, my hair, my freckles, my body, my clothes! I’m a shy mess! What is he even-
“Is... that a no?” asked Tom, his face set in a pout. He turned a bit to the side, looking off in the distance for a second before Erina could answer.
“No, of course i-i-it’s not a no!” she somehow managed to say.
The boy smiled before pulling out his wooden figure and showing it to her. “Well, how about this,” he offered, his deep voice soft and calm, “We wait until I finish this. I’m gonna make it look like you. If you think it’s good enough, then we go out. Is that alright?”
He stood there with the figurine, shaped humanoid but still missing far too much detail for one to be certain. Right then and there Erina decided that it looked quite a bit like her. She started to say so but caught herself, realizing that she might not be the only one who needed a bit of time to prepare herself.
“Deal!” she said, still in a daze. Then the two sat back down, each a heated mess and trying not to show it. Erina barely remembered the rest of that day, except meditating on how Tom’s hair looked like a coursing river when he brushed it from his face and being completely sure that she was the luckiest girl in the world, school and Rebecca be damned. She would take a hundred more bruises on her belly before she disliked this man’s figurine.
A Compendium For The Broken Hearted Page 9
