Burning Britely

by Deidre Huesmann

  Green. Not dull, not like moss, not with a smattering of other colors that could make it a questionable, muddy hazel, but pure green. Like chemicals, like radiation, like spring and summer eager to meet. Natural and preternatural at the same time. Braeden’s eyes burned through him, scouring the medicine from his blood until his fever exploded with full force in his face.

  Then someone shoved him.

  A girl yelled. “You asshole! You could have hurt Braeden!”

  “He killed a duck!”

  “That’s a goose.”

  “Aren’t geese endangered?”

  The connection broke. Snapped like a dry twig under a hiker’s boot. Jeff shook himself and stuffed the book back into his backpack. Nobody stopped him as he left. Some were too busy fussing over Braeden. Others were poking at the bird with morbid curiosity, and a few were yelling at the curious for touching the prone animal. Jeff wanted no part of it. He wanted to go to class, take his test, and go home.

  Helping that guy was a mistake.

  Against his better judgment, he glanced back. And immediately wished he hadn’t. Braeden was looking over the throng of their peers, watching him go with a mixture of puzzlement and thought.

  Jeff tightened the straps of his bag and started jogging to class.

  * * * *

  The chemistry classroom always smelled funny, like bleach and turpentine and formaldehyde. Normally, he found it welcoming. Today, it was stuffy, dry, and burning all at once. The long tables seemed strangely short and thin, like he couldn’t get enough privacy if he tried, despite only two chairs assigned per table. Jeff sank into his usual seat at the front of the room, ignoring the stares of his classmates. It was harder to ignore the whispers. That’s the guy. He killed a duck for literally no reason. What a psycho!

  Since he couldn’t unhear the words, he opened his textbook and began reviewing the material. All while a headache began to wind around his skull, wrapping tight like a well-done package.

  Seconds later, a diminutive girl pushed back the chair beside him. Maya dropped her bags on the table. “Man, I don’t know about you, but I am so not ready for this test.”

  Jeff didn’t bother looking up. “You’ll ace it. You always do.”

  Two fingers pinched his cheek and pulled. “Aww, Jeffy, is that jealousy I hear?”

  He smacked her hand away. For a tiny girl, she was brutal. “Cut it out.”

  Maya sat down hard in her chair. Jeff tried not to flinch. She owned enough trophies and ribbons and black belts that he knew better, but she looked so frail that he couldn’t help feeling like she’d snap herself in two just moving around. She was thin and flowy, like the branches of a weeping willow. Few students were shorter than her, and he was one of the few, if only by a centimeter or two that he was pretty sure would close once they were done with puberty.

  She peered at him from behind a wispy curtain of honey-colored hair. “Don’t be so sour,” she said. “You’re always grumpy before an exam.”

  “I’m having a bad day,” he muttered.

  She nodded, solemn. “Yeah. I heard about the swan.”

  “It was a goose.”

  “Whatever it was, it was clearly evil, attacking Braeden like that.”

  Irritably, he said, “It’s all about poor Braeden. Did anyone stop to think that maybe he provoked it? Messed with the babies or something?”

  “Then why’d you kill it?”

  “Who says I killed it?” Defensiveness crept into his voice. “It might’ve just been stunned. I didn’t exactly get a chance to double-check.”

  “You still saved Braeden. How come? It’s not like he needs his fingers to run track.”

  Mental walls slammed up left and right. Jeff said, “No one else was doing anything. I had the means to, so I did.”

  “Could’ve done it without killing the poor thing.”

  He shot her a wry look. “Not all of us are black belts.”

  She smiled, like the snide jab didn’t bother her. It probably didn’t. “You’re nicer than you act, sometimes.”

  “Whatever.”

  Maya lifted a bony shoulder. “Besides, even if he had messed with the babies, you kind of overshadowed it by killing a pelican.”

  “Goose. And I didn’t kill it.”

  “Whatever. Look, the point is, what’s done is done.” Her voice raised. “You probably saved Braeden’s handsome face, so people should be thankful for that.” She shot a pointed look at the gossiping classmates in the back.

  Jeff hardly noticed. Instead, Braeden’s certifiably handsome—she was right about that part, at least—face infiltrated his thoughts.

  Jeff’s blue-blooded secret was this: he was into guys, perhaps a touch more than girls. A 52.2% versus 47.8%, especially on days like today, where his most recent interactions with not-Maya girls hadn’t been all that positive. But, regardless of gender, few held his attention. Hell, he’d seen Braeden around before. They weren’t complete strangers, just vague acquaintances at worst. And Braeden had always been a looker, at least objectively.

  So why was it today that the school’s track star had stirred him? What was the difference?

  Maya nudged him with her elbow, and his thoughts veered off the mental highway. “Speak of the devil,” she murmured.

  Jeff looked up to see Braeden approaching them. The track star held a small stack of stapled papers. Jeff couldn’t help but notice the taller boy’s healthy, golden tan, the powerful legs emerging from a pair of basketball shorts, the large palms. His eyes were still arresting. While not strictly symmetrical, the sharp lines of Braeden’s jaw added a mature appeal. Which made sense, given he was a senior, practically an adult. For a high schooler, he possessed one hell of a presence up close.

  Jeff’s gaze dropped to Braeden’s right hand. Clean, white bandages bound the middle and forefingers together.

  “Looks like Quackula got the best of you,” said Jeff.

  Braeden snorted. “Something like that.”

  “What’d you do to it?” asked Maya.

  “Nothing. I thought it was a big duck at first.” Braeden shook his head. “Never saw a goose up close before. Didn’t really think about it until it started hissing.”

  Jeff rubbed the spot between his eyebrows. How can you grow up near a lake and not tell the difference between a duck and a goose?

  Maya, on the other hand, nodded as though it were the most sensible thing in the world. “Things that aren’t cats shouldn’t hiss. So creepy.”

  “Tell me about it.” The corner of Braeden’s mouth lifted. The small act alone made Jeff’s heart skip a beat. He almost missed Braeden setting the papers on his desk. “You’re Jeff Young, right? Brenda asked me to give this to you.”

  In an effort to hide his surprise, Jeff studied the papers. My English essay. Brenda must have heard about the fight and figured Braeden would know who he was. Jeff made sure the pages were all there and in order before slipping them into his bag.

  “You’re welcome,” said Braeden dryly.

  Jeff shrugged. He felt the fever inching back up, winding a slow noose around his neck. His eyes flicked to the clock on the wall. Too soon for another dose.

  Shaking his head, Braeden bid them a goodbye and left just before the final bell shrieked.

  Maya leaned over and nudged Jeff again. “Well?”

  He stared intently at his open book. The words connected with his brain but failed to make sense. “Well, what?”

  “Do you think he’s hot?”

  The fever erupted like a volcano, bursting from his neck and peaking at the top of his forehead. “Don’t say stupid things,” he snapped.

  Maya smiled as though she held all the world’s secrets and sat back.

  Chapter Two

  Second period was an elective writing for the school newspaper. Yet another one of his favorites by smell alone. It was always warm, thanks to the constant dull whir of computers functioning tirelessly every day, every night, for ten out of twelve months of
the year. The air smelled like the dust exhumed from a roaring vacuum cleaner. It was also one of the larger classes, more of a computer lab than a classroom. The space could easily house forty students, though his hour usually only had twenty-two.

  Initially, Jeff had chosen the class because he liked the smell and the subject intrigued him. Three classes contributed to the monthly Lowry High Review, but second period was where most of the seniors had been placed, and every year the editorial team was largely comprised of seniors. That hadn’t bothered Jeff when he’d signed up. It had been the concept. Journalism for the sake of honesty and real news? What wasn’t to like?

  He’d quickly learned that seniors had final say-so in all articles, and few found major world news as interesting as he did. As a result, he’d come to accept that the class would be an easy A, a nice padding to his college applications, and nothing more.

  What he hadn’t noticed, until today, was that Braeden Britely shared the class with him.

  Jeff froze in the doorway. His brain didn’t want to compute what his eyes informed him. Since when did I have any classes with this guy? Why didn’t I notice before?

  Because he hadn’t had to, was the obvious reason. The closest he’d been to Braeden before today was a whopping twelve feet. There was no need to retain all inconsequential information.

  Braeden looked up from his conversation with a couple of his fellow seniors. He grinned and lifted his injured hand in a casual greeting. Because of the bandages, Braeden’s wave seemed to say, Live long and prosper.

  Crap. Jeff quickly drew his gaze across the room. He hoped it looked like he’d been scanning for someone or something that ended up not being there. With a sigh, he went to his usual spot. It was always vacant, despite it being one of the better computers, because it wasn’t ideal for chatting with fellow students, was too close to the teacher, and was too far from a window. It meant that, for the most part, others left him alone.

  Usually, he didn’t mind any of that. Today, it would outright work to his benefit.

  As he typed in his student password, the chair beside him scraped back on tile so old it had begun to powder. An increasingly familiar voice said, “Everyone says I should thank you.”

  What the hell does he want from me? Jeff stared straight ahead. While it was one of the better computers, it still took forever to log in. All he had to watch was a swirling circle icon. “Huh.”

  “It would seem”—Scrape, scrape, went the chair—“that you saved my”—Long legs swung over the seat—“quote beautiful face unquote”—Two fingers mimicked the quotation marks—“so I owe you one.” And Braeden was sitting backward on the rickety metal chair, well within Jeff’s periphery. Jeff felt the track star’s gaze bore into him, green and hot and burning so Braeden brightly.

  With the barest of glances, Jeff said, “Think you need a second opinion.”

  “Yeah?”

  “I’ve saved prettier faces.”

  Braeden laughed. It was loud and deep, and affected Jeff far more than he wanted to admit. The muscles bunched at his neck.

  “I bet you have,” said Braeden.

  “What do you want?”

  “Like I said, I owe you.”

  Jeff shook his head. “You lost to a bird. I don’t want that kind of pathetic equivalent in my debt.”

  Braeden’s responding smile was toothy. “Are you always this nice?”

  “Precisely this nice.”

  “I can dig it.”

  Jeff’s fingers curled into a ball beside the keyboard. “Didn’t ask you to.”

  “That’s the spirit!” The bell rang, cutting off Jeff’s retort. Braeden stood and winked. “Guess you’re my personal Napoleon in shining armor, huh?”

  “Oh, real clever,” said Jeff. “A short joke. Ha, ha.”

  “Mr. Young,” snapped the teacher. “The bell rang. Sit down.”

  He hadn’t realized he’d stood. Jeff pressed his lips tight together and shot Braeden a dirty look. From where he’d retreated to the back, Braeden grinned and waggled his good fingers. Jeff sat, hating that every stare was on him, and hating Braeden for it.

  Once class started, the teacher retreated to his computer while the seniors chatted about next month’s issue. Jeff had resigned himself to research for another project when a blinking notification popped up in the task bar. With a frown, he clicked on it and a small window emerged.

  No1TrackStar: hey ;)

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” said Jeff under his breath. He dared a glance toward the back, but Braeden was casually chatting with the girl next to him. Through the gaps between other computer screens, Jeff noticed a large, tanned hand resting on a mouse—like Braeden was ready to click on something at a moment’s notice.

  He almost closed out of the window. Instead, he wrote back.

  JeffY: Nice username. Real modest.

  There was a long pause. After the pause turned into a minute, then two, then five, Jeff closed out of the window. He wasn’t sure if the unfurling sensation in his stomach was relief or annoyance … or even disappointment.

  A few minutes later, a new notification came through. His stomach began to inch toward his chest. Jeff reluctantly clicked.

  No1QuackVictim: better?

  Jeff covered his mouth to hide a bemused smile. He glanced around. Nobody was watching. His brief moment of infamy was gone, just like that. Had Maya’s comment spread so quickly, actually done him a favor?

  JeffY: Yeah, actually.

  This time, the responses were faster.

  No1QuackVictim: you gonna tell me why you hate me so much?

  JeffY: Never said I did.

  No1QuackVictim: you really are just this rude to everyone?

  JeffY: I thought I was clear about that.

  No1QuackVictim: lol ok fair but then why save me?

  Jeff rubbed his mouth. Why, in that moment, had Brenda’s kiss come back to him? And why had the memory nosedived into a fantasy, where Brenda’s lips had become wider, firmer, drier? Why was her jawline more angular?

  And why did it excite him this time? He wasn’t even sure he liked this dude. Could all this fuss be so simple as physical attraction?

  He drew a couple slow, deep breaths to calm himself.

  JeffY: No one else was doing anything. Figured you wanted all your fingers.

  No1QuackVictim: lol yah 8 is better than 0

  A small smile tugged the corner of Jeff’s mouth.

  JeffY: Don’t be dramatic. At most you’d have lost five.

  No1QuackVictim: naw man once they taste human blood they dont go back

  JeffY: That’s sharks. And bears. Not geese.

  No1QuackVictim: ill trust your judgment napoleon

  Well, thought Jeff irritably, that camaraderie hadn’t lasted long. He exited out of the window and resumed his research. A new tab blinked a few times, but he ignored it. It kept his mind on Braeden, though, and his normally linear thoughts kept doing little whirls into chaos.

  Attractive upper-tiers are always arrogant. Who does he think he is? I can’t help being short, but he can help being an asshole. Who cares if he has the greenest eyes I’ve ever seen? He’s a dick.

  “We’re short a big story,” he heard from the back. “What’s happened recently?”

  “We have that game against Woodell High,” a girl replied.

  “No way, our football team sucks,” said Braeden. “No offense, Dan.”

  “I’m just defense,” replied another male voice. Likely Dan. “It’s our offense that sucks. You’re right.”

  “If we pull out a win, it’ll be newsworthy,” said the girl.

  A short, derisive laugh sounded. An unfamiliar voice. No one Jeff knew. “Yeah, right. I wouldn’t bet money on it.”

  “Well, track’s not doing anything big until next month,” said Dan. “Otherwise Braeden would be front and center again.”

  Jeff’s fingers froze. He stared at the webpage he was on, seeing but no longer deciphering the laws of qua
ntum mechanics. He mused over his classmates’ words, turning them over and over, and a slow smile crept across his face.

  If they wanted a big story with Braeden’s face plastered on the front, he knew just how to deliver.

  Decided, Jeff pulled up a blank document, adjusted the settings to his liking, and began to type.

  * * * *

  Lunch was mundane, despite Maya’s best efforts to engage him. Jeff spent his time on his article, going so far as to discreetly print it and make markings in red ink. He remembered to take more of his secreted medicine when it felt like the fever was creeping back up. In fifth period gym class, Brenda looked like she wanted to approach him. Instead, she veered away at the last second, loudly starting a conversation with her friends. It was weird. Aside from that, the day had been a blur of mediocrity.

  Until he opened his locker before sixth period and found a neatly folded note at the bottom.

  Suspicion spiked to a needle’s point in his chest. He unfolded it and scanned the perfect print.

  We need to talk. Meet me here.

  Below the words was a rough drawing of the school grounds, with a fat purple X designating the meeting spot. Below that was signed in large, swirling cursive, Brenda.

  Jeff spent his final class waffling over the choice: meet her or not? On one hand, he didn’t see what else there was to say. On the other hand, he toyed with the idea of apologizing. Not for the kiss, not for what he said, necessarily, but for not handling it with more grace. His mother always told him he needed to learn to swallow his pride—maybe this was what she meant.

  After the last bell, the decision was made. If he was quick, he knew he could still catch the bus. Jeff kept that in mind as he headed to the location in the note, a secluded spot just off school grounds. His gut warned him of impending doom, but his brain tempered it. If she’s with anyone, I leave. Simple as that.

  To his quiet relief, Brenda waited alone, leaning against a light pole protruding from the cracked sidewalk. Her neon pink backpack rested at her feet. Jeff couldn’t help noticing she wore rainbow-laced boots with thick, wide rubber heels. Not good if she decided to kick him. Plus, they made her feet look enormous. Her faults were coming at him in rapid fire now, faults he’d never noticed before, like her chicken thigh-shaped legs and awkwardly long fingers. Puberty wasn’t treating her too kindly.