Sway

by M. F. Lorson

  “I can barely get him to look at me. I think you are forgetting the part where he ignores me unless there is an opportunity to get in a subtle dig?”

  “Not true,” declared Rachel, pointing down at her notebook. “Right here in my obstacles column I have listed, ‘man-child needs reminding: both that you exist and that you are awesome.’”

  “That would be easier to accomplish if I were, in fact, awesome.”

  Rachel wrinkled up her nose, “Self-deprecating commentary will not be welcome in the planning process. Part of what Christopher claims to like in a girl is self-confidence. You’re going to have to get some of that.”

  “That feels like a lot of work,” I said, pushing myself off the bed and digging around our closet for the least wrinkled version of my Shelfbrooke uniform. I could feel Rachel looming above me as I straighten up to get dressed.

  “You either want him, or you don’t want him. But you don’t get to mope around this room all year having not even tried.”

  “Is that so? I said, tugging my stained pajama top over my head.

  “Everything I say is so,” she said with a wink.

  “I hope you’ve got a strategy then because I tried apologizing. I tried making small talk. I tried gaping at him like a psycho from dark corners of the room, and surprisingly, none of those tactics have paid off.”

  “Have no fear, little one,” said Rachel pinching my cheeks. “I have an idea.”

  “And an accomplice,” said Ashley, stepping into our room.

  “Whoa! “I yelped. “How long have you been out there?”

  “Honestly, like five seconds,” said Ashley. “We talked this through last night while you were moping and being generally miserable to be around.”

  “I see,” I said, trying not to let that ‘miserable to be around’ comment get to me.

  “No hard feelings,” said Ashley picking up on my frowny face. “I don’t know you that well but, you seem off is all I’m saying.”

  “I get it,” I admitted, knowing she was right. The real Anne didn’t hide out in her room all day. But then again, the real Anne wasn’t used to sharing a campus with Christopher Wentworth.

  Ashley looked pensive.

  “What?” I asked.

  “If we are going to work together to help you win back Christopher, then it’s probably important that you learn a little bit about him,” she said, leaning back against my vanity.

  My mouth curved into a smile. “That is a subject I wouldn’t mind studying in great depth,”

  “Ew,” said Ashley crinkling up her nose, “I’m going to pretend I didn’t just hear that.”

  I shrugged, “I just want you to know I take the mission seriously.”

  “Well,” said Ashley, “since that is the case, the first thing you need to know about my brother is…”

  “Yes?” I asked, leaning toward her, eager to soak up any and every Christopher related tidbit available.

  “The first thing you should know about my brother is that he likes girls who bathe,” she said with a smirk.

  Rachel shook with laughter as I grabbed my shower caddy and stomped out of the room.

  A smile tugged at the corner of my lips. If Ashley thought I still had a shot with her brother, then maybe I did. It was time to stop whining and start taking action. Christopher Wentworth was about to be reminded exactly what he’d been missing out on.

  After my shower I met back up with the girls for breakfast. At first, I was skeptical of their plan. An off-campus weekend at Rachel’s parents’ lake house didn't sound all that romantic in February. Especially not with all of the extra bodies tagging along.

  “You really think it is smart to invite Will and Andrew?” I asked.

  Ashley grinned, “First off, if my brother gets a potential love fest of a weekend free of parental and faculty supervision, then so do I! And second, if we don’t invite other people, it is going to be way too obvious that we are trying to hook you guys up.” My pulse raised a little just thinking about it.

  “But Will? There is a history there. He’s not exactly my favorite person.” Rachel squeezed my knee under the breakfast table.

  “I get it,” said Ashley. “But he is also Christopher’s co-captain. So far, they can barely sit in the same room together without bickering. If nothing changes, there is no way they can lead a team together this spring. And if Christopher doesn’t have lacrosse…”

  “What?” What could be so bad about Christopher not playing a sport?

  “Look,” said Ashley firmly. “He’s here to play lacrosse. The education part is just a requirement for him. If sports don't motivate him, he’ll fail. Failing is kind of his thing.”

  I groaned but gave in. After all, Christopher leaving Shelfbrooke was the exact opposite of the result we were hoping for.

  “We’ll keep Will out of your hair,” said Rachel, locking eyes with Ashley. “You just focus on the wooing.”

  “Right,” I answered, sucking in my bottom lip with my teeth. “About that, what if I don’t know how to woo Christopher?” Rachel shook her head in disbelief. This was definitely violating her no self-deprecating rule, but it was early. I needed time to adjust.

  “You did it once,” said Ashley. “How hard can it be to recapture the magic?”

  I rolled my eyes at her corny use of the word magic. “That was a long time ago. Things were different.”

  “How so?” asked Ashley.

  “For starters,” I said. “I hadn’t broken his heart or royally pissed him off yet.”

  Rachel crossed her arms over her chest, “Those things are merely stumbling blocks on the path to greatness.”

  Ashley laughed, “This one is theatrical, yeah?” She hooked her thumb in Rachel’s direction.

  “That is an understatement.”

  “Ahem!” coughed Rachel. “Can we please not venture off the map here? This conversation serves an essential purpose. We are plotting; you two can make fun of me later.”

  “Alright, alright,” conceded Ashley, “Back to the agenda. You can and will woo Christopher, but it’s not going to happen overnight. There has to be some buildup to the lake house.”

  “What kind of build up?” I asked, afraid of the answer.

  “Well,” said Ashley, looking to Rachel for support. “What would you say are Christopher’s main points of contention?”

  “I don’t know,” I said, raising my hands in bewilderment.

  “Think about it,” said Ashley. “What did he tell you he was looking for in a girl that first night at dinner?”

  I struggled to remember. That night I’d been caught off guard both by learning Ashley was his sister and that he had more than a little bit of resentment leftover from our breakup. I drummed my fingers along the tabletop, trying to remember his phrasing.

  Rachel interjected on my behalf, “I believe the little punk said we saved him from dating girls who couldn’t think for themselves.”

  “Correct,” said Ashley, looking at me expectantly. She could keep looking at me that way all day if she wanted to. I still didn’t know what I was supposed to do about it.

  “You can start by showing him you’re an individual. That Rachel doesn’t govern your each and every move.”

  Rachel gasped in mock dismay, springing from her seat and latching her arms around my neck like a baby sloth. “You will never separate us. We will never be divided!” she whisper-shouted, drawing attention from the kids at the table beside us.

  I pried her arms from my neck with a giggle. “I’ll never let them,” I reassured her then turned my attention to Ashley. “I get the idea. I just don’t quite get how to do it.”

  “You’ll figure it out,” said Ashley. “You just have to you know, be yourself, but also kinda not be yourself.”

  “Clear as mud,” I answered. “I think you guys should brace yourself for the possibility that Christopher doesn’t go for any of this.”

  “Look,” said Ashley. “I wasn’t going to say anything, bu
t it is clear you need more than a little nudge here. I don’t think it’s going to be a challenge for you to get Christopher to like you because I think he already likes you.”

  I shook my head. “This isn’t a Mr. Darcy situation. He's not rude to me because he thinks I have fine eyes. He’s rude to me because I hurt him.”

  “Maybe so,” said Ashley. “But he kept your picture in his locker his whole sophomore year.”

  That took me by surprise, so much so that I couldn't help but look across the dining hall to where Christopher sat. He was digging around his bowl of cereal for the last bit of soggy oats when he caught me looking and made a “What?” shape with his mouth. I quickly looked away, directing my attention back to Ashley.

  “That doesn’t mean anything,” I said, though even as I said it, I found myself wondering if it was a sign that things weren't as bad as they seemed.

  “And Shelfbrooke?” asked Ashley exasperated. “Do you think a guy like my brother, who can barely claw his way through basic English chooses to finish his senior year at a school like this just for the heck of it?

  “For lacrosse,” I answered matter-of-factly.

  “No, Anne. For you. He came here to show you he was good enough all along. To make you regret that Dear John letter.”

  My face burned, remembering the contents of the letter.

  “Mission accomplished,” I said, crushing the triangular top of my chocolate milk shut and tossing it at the trashcan at the end of our table.

  Ashley sighed deeply, “Look. Maybe he thinks he is here to make you feel bad. But I think he’s here because deep down he still has feelings for you.” Her eyes were pleading with me to listen, but my heart had its guard up. I both wanted Christopher and was terrified of getting him at the same time.

  “I hope you’re right,” I said, sneaking another look at him. “Because if you’re wrong and I make a fool of myself trying to get him back, I legit don’t think I can take that kind of heartache and embarrassment.”

  Something in Ashley’s expression perplexed me. Her lips were set in a firm line like she was angry, but it didn't match with anything she had said so far. Finally, she opened her mouth to speak.

  “Isn’t it time you stop worrying about what other people think? Is it really so bad if you get embarrassed every now and again?”

  Rachel’s eyebrows shoot to the top of her head. Public embarrassment is not part of what they discussed a few nights back.

  “How embarrassed?” she asked.

  Ashley rolled her eyes. “If she wants Christopher, she’s gonna have to show him she doesn’t care what Shelfbrooke society does or doesn’t consider cool.”

  Rachel cringed beside me. “I’m worried I am going to regret deferring to your advice.”

  Ashley laughed, softening the suddenly serious conversation. “It will all work out. You two need to loosen up.”

  “Maybe,” I answered. “But who's to say I am going to be the biggest problem. How on earth are you going to get Christopher to agree to go on this trip? Will and I are sitting pretty high on the list of people he doesn’t want to hang out with.”

  Ashley’s lips quirked into a calculated smile. “Every ex Christopher has ever had could be attending this trip, and he would still go if it meant preventing me from spending a weekend unsupervised with Andrew.”

  Rachel smirked. “That’s brilliant.”

  "I know," said Ashley, pretending to pop an invisible collar and brush the dust off her shoulders.

  The rest of the breakfast was giggles and stories about friends from home. I kept pretty quiet, watching as Ashley and Rachel grew closer. Shelfbrooke had that effect on people. You couldn't just spend all your time sharing the same space with someone and not let them in. Ashley had been here all of five days, and already it felt like she had always been one of us.

  Chapter Eight

  We planned the lake house trip for a month out. It gave Rachel enough time to swipe the key from her parents' house and Ashley the opportunity to drop enough hints about her big awesome trip with Andrew for Christopher to freak out and insist he was invited. I thought it was funny how he thought that he was forcing himself in on our super exclusive vacation when really he was doing exactly what we wanted. It was reverse psychology at its finest.

  Getting our parents to sign off on a weekend off campus was much more challenging. First, we each had to come up with a dummy trip. Rachel told her parents we were staying at my Aunt Ginger’s while I told Dad that I was accompanying her on a college campus visit. I could tell he had reservations over the phone, but I reminded him that I would actually be going to college next year. He might as well start getting comfortable with the idea now. With our permission slips signed and filed with Ms. Bev all that remained was the prep work.

  The lake house plan would never work if Christopher was still mad at me for breaking up with him three years ago. I had to focus on getting him to see I could think for myself. That, the Anne he cared about before was still in there.

  After what felt like our four-thousandth conversation on the subject, Rachel pointed out that maybe the real me wasn’t what he was looking for.

  “He thinks he knows you because he spent one summer chasing boats with you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Riding the ferry. It’s different.”

  “I have no idea what that means,” laughed Rachel. “But I do know that that girl isn’t the one he wants either, right?”

  “I don’t follow.”

  Rachel let out a deep sigh. She was not a huge fan of having to over explain herself, especially not when we usually communicated so well. “All I am trying to say is it’s not like I waved my big voodoo wand over you the second you got to Shelfbrooke. You are who you have always been. He just wants some fist in the air, hashtag-resist type.”

  “He wants that because of me, though. Because of what I did to him.”

  Rachel shook her head with disgust. “Right. So now you have to pretend to be a reader of Ms. Magazine?”

  “Something like that,” I said with a shrug.

  “This is all very complicated.”

  I threw myself back on the bed. “What am I gonna do, Rachel? I can’t be that kind of girl.”

  Rachel looked up at the Jonas Brothers revival poster on our shared wall and laughed out loud. “No, no you cannot.”

  “You’re not helping,” I groaned.

  “Fine,” said Rachel, “Here is my real advice. You don’t have to transform yourself. You just need to show him you can think for yourself. No need to start a revolution, just join one already in progress.” I could tell she was holding something back by the way she suddenly went silent. Rachel was never silent.

  “Spill it,” I demanded.

  She hesitated for a second before slowly forcing out the words. “You might have to join Lydia’s dumb club.”

  “Gag me!” I cried. “That group literally makes me nauseous. How many cafeteria demonstrations make you a rebel? Three or four?”

  Rachel burst into a fit of giggles. “I will die laughing the first time I see you participate.” She looked as if she were halfway there now, her eyes watered at the corners and she could barely keep from choking she was laughing so hard.

  “Gee Rachel, how supportive of you.” I snarled, glaring across the room from my bed to hers.

  She attempted to answer me but was laughing too hard for it to make any sense. I had half a mind to stomp down to Ashley’s room and abandon her for the rest of the afternoon, but I knew deep down that she was right and that I needed her backup. I dug my cell phone out of my pocket and checked the time. We had twenty minutes. I hopped off my bed and planted myself directly in front of her.

  “Alright then, “I declared, wrapping my hands around her feet and dragging her off the bed by the ankles. “This is your brilliant idea. You have to come with me.”

  “Come with you for what?” She managed to choke out as her feet hit the floor.

  “To sign up for the dumb club!”
I practically yelled.

  Rachel waved her hand in front of her face as if she had hot flashes. “I am not joining the Cassius Society,” she squeaked. “This is exactly where the boundary of our friendship ends.”

  “Good to know you’re there when it counts,” I said, laying it on thick. Rachel coughed, willing herself to stop laughing long enough to take me seriously.

  “Foul!” she cried. “I have done many things for you, Anne Bennet. This is my only refusal.” I racked my brain for other refusals to cite, but it didn’t take me long to realize she was right. In the long and ardent history of our friendship, Rachel had been a yes girl. I couldn’t fault her for saying no just this once. Even though I really, really wanted to.

  “Fine, I won’t ask you to join,” I begged jutting out my bottom lip. “Just come to the sign-up with me.”

  Rachel sighed. “Alright, alright enough with the pouting,” she whined. “I’ve meant to sign up for a club anyway.” I guessed that that was a hundred percent not true, but I didn’t call her on it. Not when it meant she’d be my human shield in the event of an unplanned Christopher sighting.

  We stopped by Ashley’s room to pick her up on the way. I loved dropping by her room because the walls were always changing. Now, beside the cartoon of the girl with the messy hair was a sketch of the cartoon Ashley in a Shelfbrooke uniform, her arm slung around two friends. One of them looked like me.

  “I love these,” I said pointing to the threesome. “Why aren’t you taking art?”

  Ashley shrugged. “It’s not really my thing.”

  She scooped up her bag and headed for the door without a second glance at the picture. I had half a mind to steal it the way I had Christopher’s poster, but I held back. Maybe, she was the type to be shy about that sort of thing.

  Club sign-ups took place in the gym on the first Saturday after classes began. Everyone was supposed to know what they wanted to commit to by then. Last year, we both joined a bunch of clubs. All the juniors did. This year, there were only a handful of seniors milling around the room. There were no more obligatory extracurriculars now that acceptance letters had all been mailed. Immediately, I spotted Christopher wandering around the room. He held a few fliers in his hands. I thought I saw the outdoors club logo peeking out from under his palm but looked away before he caught me staring. Lately, getting caught staring at Christopher had started to feel normal.