Our Unscripted Story

by L. A. Fiore

  There was a part of me that wanted to know, needed to understand how I had lost them. Sometimes I let myself imagine what life would have been like with them, the people we were in that photograph. My life was good. I had friends who loved me, but the little girl in me wished for the parents who would have tucked me in at night. Played catch with me and taught me to ride a bike. Shopping, I didn’t even like shopping, but I’d go every day if it meant I could do so with my mom. Looking at this picture gutted me—the promise of a lifetime filled not just with milestones, but all the little moments that made up a life—because they walked away from that. One day I’d find out what happened to break my family apart.

  I studied myself in the mirror. One had to dress for success. Today was the day I talked to Greyson. I wore my overalls and my favorite flannel shirt. My chunky brown shoes I had gotten from the twins for Christmas. It was my most favorite outfit…comfortable and familiar.

  I left my hair down, but brushed it until it shined. I even added a touch of mascara and lip gloss. I grabbed my bag and headed for the bus. The twins were already there.

  “Hey, Alexis…are you wearing makeup?” Why did Dominic choose today to be observant? “She’s wearing makeup. What’s that all about?”

  Dylan moved in, his expression neutral but I saw the wheels turning. “The new kid?”

  “No.”

  “You’re all dolled up and the only variable that has changed is the new kid.” Dylan was smug because he knew he was right. “Do you need a wing man?”

  He would too. One of the many reasons I loved the twins. “I think I’ve got this.”

  “Good luck.”

  I didn’t need luck. I had destiny on my side. This was going to be easy peasy.

  I almost hurled in my locker. I was a bundle of nerves. I wasn’t plotting world domination; I just wanted to talk to the hot boy who made me feel all kinds of good things. I tried to calm down as I loitered, waiting for Greyson. I almost gave up, when the door at the end of the hall opened and in he walked. I got chills and went numb at the same time. My imagination embellished the scene as he strolled down the hall in slow motion in his sexy stride. The wind that stirred teased his hair as The Cure’s “Lovesong” played softly in the background. I had enough brain cells functioning to turn from him so he didn’t catch me gaping. When he reached his locker, I took a few deep breaths and gave myself a little pep talk. I was just saying hi. It was really no big deal. He was just a person, only a person—a beautiful, sexy, intriguing person whose mere presence knocked my world off its axis. Before I lost my nerve, I shut my locker and headed in his direction. The closer I grew, the more difficult it was to put one foot in front of the other. My heart was beating so hard and fast I was sure I’d be dropping dead of a heart attack before I ever reached him. He must have sensed me, because he turned and I was hit straight on with the power of his pale green eyes. Holy shit, they were beautiful. I’d never seen eyes quite that color before. Pale green, like a peridot, with speckles of gold. My focus shifted from his eyes to his mouth when he grinned. Just the slightest curving of his lips, but the impact on his face was heart stopping. What would his lips feel like on mine? What did he taste like? I realized I was fantasizing about kissing him while staring right at him. He was leaning against the lockers now, patient…waiting. Every thought left my head. I had nothing, couldn’t form a word if my life depended on it. My moment and I was blowing it. Say something, Alexis! But my brain had closed up shop, boarded the windows and left town. Mortified, I turned from him and walked away. My face was on fire; I wanted to crawl into a locker and die. Instead, I slipped into the bathroom and pondered drowning myself in the toilet.

  I settled at my desk in biology, opened my book and hid behind it. I had avoided Greyson at lunch by hiding in the corner. I was a coward, absolutely, but knowing was half of the battle.

  I sensed his arrival, even with my book blocking my view. My body felt him. What must he think of me? I couldn’t even allow my overactive imagination to take that thought and run with it because I’d be tossing myself out the window.

  “Miss Owens.”

  Reluctantly, I lowered my book. Mr. Price was looking at me expectantly and though his mouth was moving, I didn’t hear a word he said. All systems in my brain were working together to keep my eyes from drifting to Greyson. It was exhausting.

  Gertrude whispered, “He wants you to join him at the front of the class.”

  It was like the cosmos was plotting against me. Mr. Price was getting me back for thinking poorly of his comb over. I felt like a dead man walking as I dragged my feet to join him.

  “We don’t have all day, Miss Owens.”

  Reaching Mr. Price’s desk, I noticed the fetal pig. Horrified, I jerked my eyes from the pig to my teacher. He didn’t want me to dissect this in front of the class, did he? This was worse than the frogs.

  “Miss Owens, why do we dissect fetal pigs?”

  Up close his comb over seemed to defy gravity. How much hairspray did he use? He cleared his throat, I quickly replied, “Because of the similarities to humans.”

  “Yes. Now, before we cut we study the specimen. What can you tell me about this pig, Miss Owens?”

  What could I tell him about the pig? Seriously? He was little, pink and soon to be removed of all his organs. It was a dismal fate, so I created a better one. “He was the smallest in his litter. His brothers and sisters climbed over him to get to their mama’s milk. They called him piglet five, but he thought of himself as Peter. He had dreams to father hundreds of piglets, to live his life slopping around in the mud and to die fat and happy. Life had other plans. They came at night…”

  “Miss Owens!”

  And the story was just getting good.

  “It’s a fetal pig. It was never born.”

  “I know, but it seems wrong to dissect him without at least giving him a story. I mean we could raise a glass for his sacrifice, but you’re not allowed to serve alcohol to minors.” I leaned closer and added, “But I won’t tell if you won’t.”

  What the hell was wrong with me? Did one slip slowly into madness or did it happen fast?

  I could have been imaging it, since I was fairly certain I was losing my mind, but I swear Mr. Price chuckled. “You may take your seat.”

  He was probably going to kick me from his class. I couldn’t say I blamed him. I had everyone’s attention as I made my way back to my seat. Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look. I looked, stared right into those pale green eyes as I passed Greyson’s desk. Those butterflies started up again. I’d have sold Dylan’s soul to know what Greyson was thinking because he looked charmed. Maybe I hadn’t blown it. Feeling bold I reached his side and said, “Hi.”

  He smiled, showing white teeth, the front one overlapping the other just slightly. He wasn’t perfect and somehow that just made him more perfect. My knees went weak. I reached my table and dropped into my chair. That smile should come with a warning.

  After the final bell, I was at my locker and noticed Greyson at his. Some of my courage from biology had fled, but I made a bet with myself. If he looked my way, I was walking over and saying hi. Part of me hoped he’d look and part of me hoped he wouldn’t because I couldn’t be sure how I’d react. Around him all bets were off. I stared though, did so from behind my hair so he wouldn’t know I was staring. I wasn’t sure what it was about him, but I could watch him all day. Yes, he was hot, but there were other hot guys in school. There was something about him that drew me in like a moth to a flame. Oh to get burned by him. I’d die a very happy girl.

  “Alexis!”

  I jumped; my head hit my locker as my heart moved into my throat. “What the…?” I turned and bit my lip when I saw Mrs. Leer, my guidance counselor.

  “I’m so glad I caught you.”

  So much for being subtle, the loud bang when my skull hit the locker echoed down the hall. Why didn’t my power of invisibility work on everyone? Why was it just a select few? It was damn frustrat
ing.

  “Are you continuing the writing club this year?”

  I had started the club last year at her encouragement. She wanted me to get more involved, said it would look good on my college applications. She had a point. I tended to stay to myself. I wasn’t a football fan; I didn’t want to be a cheerleader, not with Debbie Demato at the helm. I wasn’t in a music group because I was tone deaf. I tried the debate club, but they wanted to debate real life issues. I was more interested in who would win in a war between the Klingons and the Empire. I rarely went to school dances because I couldn’t dance. The twins once described my dancing like a little kid throwing a tantrum. So, I created the club, but I told no one. I got away with it all of last year. Just me during sixth period and the occasional visit from Mr. Dobbs, the teacher who had drawn the short straw and had to pop into all the clubs to keep us honest. It was only a matter of time before my luck ran out.

  “Yes, I’m continuing the club.”

  “You need to recruit new members.”

  I’d get the twins to join.

  “And not the twins.”

  Damn it.

  “Create flyers and post them on the bulletin boards. I’d like to see several new members, but I’ll be happy with just one.”

  I didn’t want members in my club. She read my mind.

  “One person doesn’t make a club.”

  I didn’t agree. My one-person club was awesome. To her I said, “Okay.”

  “Excellent. Have a good evening.”

  She hurried away, her heels clicking on the tile floor. Greyson was gone, but I didn’t think for a second he hadn’t seen me banging my head on my locker. Hell, he probably knew I was staring at him. All in all, this day sucked.

  While watching television that night, I created my flyers for writing club. It took all of thirty seconds. On one flyer I drew a box in the center of the page and on the top I scribbled. What’s inside the box? Join the writing club to find out. The second one was even better. It just said LOST CAT. See Alexis Owens in writing club to claim.

  “What’s with the sunglasses?” Dylan asked at the bus stop the following morning.

  I wasn’t just wearing sunglasses. I had a cap pulled low over my eyes and I was dressed in all black. If my power of invisibility refused to work when I needed it, I’d improvise.

  “I’m guessing it didn’t go well with the new kid?”

  “I’m not generally awkward, am I?”

  Dylan took a long minute to reply. I hit him in the arm. He laughed. “No.”

  “I am with him. I make a fool of myself every time he’s near. I tried to talk to him, but I froze. I had no words. No words, Dylan.”

  “You’ve got it bad.”

  I yanked off my sunglasses. “How can I have it bad when I don’t even know him?”

  “You tell me.”

  “I have no idea. All I know is my body and brain freak out when he’s near. He’s likely getting a restraining order against me.”

  “So you’re going incognito.”

  “I’m going to move in the shadows.”

  He chuckled, “Good luck with that.”

  As soon as the bus arrived, I detoured to the office to make copies of my flyers. The plan was to hang them under the other flyers on the boards. I had done as asked, I’d made the flyers. I couldn’t help it if people didn’t read them. I reached the first board and my plan went out the window. The cheerleaders’ flyer was plastered all over the board. Sure, someone had spent a lot of time drawing a cheerleader in the center of the page; those horns they use were drawn in each corner. And like their cheers, it was a very upbeat message about being a winner and joining the squad. It wasn’t a bad flyer, but I just knew it was Debbie who covered up everyone else’s messages with her own. It was such a Debbie thing to do. I hung my flyers; I covered every inch of that board. Not to stir interest, to stick it to Debbie. I felt surprisingly good as I made my way to class.

  Mr. Price was very animated today, his comb over taking flight a few times. His arms flapping at his side like a bird. He was at risk of taking off. He’d make a fun character in a book, so I jotted down his mannerisms, impressions of him so I could recall and embellish at a later date.

  My focus shifted to Greyson. When he entered class earlier, I was looking at my textbook like I would find the secret to the fountain of youth in it. I felt him look my way, but I was too chicken to look back. I really needed to locate my spine. Studying him now, he tended to wear baggy clothes, but with the way he was leaning on his elbows the cotton of his shirt was snug across the muscles of his back. I wanted to run my hands over those muscles, wanted to feel them respond to my touch. His lab partner was of course a girl and pretty. That first day of school, and the luck I had marveled over, had been a fluke or maybe my fairy godmother was a tease. She should have her wings ripped off. The girl flipped her hair so many times I wanted to cut it off. I mean seriously, talk about overdoing it. Her hair probably smelled like strawberries, or peaches, or some shit like that. She had also mastered looking at him from the corner of her eye; you know that sexy look beneath her lashes. I couldn’t see his expression, didn’t know if he was eating it up. Likely yes, but in my head he was stoic and unfazed. And yes I was jealous.

  Class was almost over, thankfully. Right before the bell rang a girl entered the classroom, the same chick that had cornered Greyson in the hall that first day. She hadn’t really, but I rewrote that scene to one I liked better. Mr. Price had already retired to his desk. He looked exhausted.

  “Alexis Owens?” I was focused on the pink paper in her hand. My flyer. This couldn’t be good.

  “Yes.”

  She turned the paper over. It was the LOST CAT flyer. I chuckled then realized the chick looked about ready to cry. Didn’t she know you couldn’t believe everything you read on a bulletin board?

  “Did anyone claim him?”

  Before I could answer her, her focus shifted to Greyson. My jaw might have dropped, but this chick did not walk into our class with a bogus flyer just to get a look at Greyson? By the way she was licking her lips, yes she had. I had to give it to her; she was bold.

  I glanced over at the object of her obsession only to find he was looking at me. That sweet burn moved down my spine in the most pleasant way. Maybe she wasn’t so crazy walking in here to get a look at him. If I wasn’t such a coward, I’d take the opportunity to talk to him but I was glued to my seat.

  I watched every move he made. I wasn’t much better than the chick. He headed for the door, but as he passed the girl he said, “I claimed him. Cat is a delicacy in Ireland.”

  Those pale eyes glanced back at me and he winked before he walked from class. Two things hit me in that moment. One, Greyson had a cadence to his voice, a distinct Irish accent. And two, he had a sense of humor. The chick looked horrified, but I was biting my lip to keep from laughing out loud. Damn, he just got better and better.

  After school, as I waited for the big yellow chariot, I chuckled every time I heard Greyson saying cat was a delicacy. There was nothing sexier than a guy with a sense of humor.

  My attention shifted when I saw Debbie and Mike leaving the building. They were heading for the parking lot, Mike’s car being the newest and flashiest. Mike was a dick. He was the male version of Debbie. He was also insanely rich and a snob. His father built those cheesy strip malls. He hadn’t set his sights on our town yet, but other towns in the area weren’t so lucky. Why his parents allowed him to date Debbie I didn’t know, but I knew she was setting herself up for a serious fall. She insisted on wearing blinders. Not my problem.

  I saw the malicious gleam. It was like watching a car wreck. Even knowing it was coming, I couldn’t move because I didn’t believe it was happening. A few of the ninth graders didn’t take a wide enough berth and Mike needed to prove he was so much bigger and tougher than the kids who were four years younger than him. The littlest of the group was the one Mike targeted. His glasses were skewed, his hair disheveled, his
pants were just a tad too short and his skinny arms were struggling to hold all of his books. As the kid passed him, Mike stuck out his foot. The fall happened in slow motion. For a second, I thought he might not kiss the ground, but he wasn’t so lucky. He dropped his books to break his fall. Mike and Debbie laughed, loud enough to gain the attention of others.

  I walked over to the kid. I didn’t hurry, so he wouldn’t feel even more uncomfortable. Debbie and Mike were halfway to his car, their interests had moved on. Dropping down next to him, I noticed the silent tears running down his face. I fumbled in my school bag for a pack of tissues. Peeling several off, I handed them to him.

  “Don’t take it personally. They’re jerks to everyone.”

  A pair of feet appeared seconds before a set of knees came into view. I looked up to see Greyson. His focus was on the kid. He held the kid’s books. “Are you hurt?”

  His voice was very deep and sexy and that accent was divine.

  “No, I’m all right.” The kid wiped his face again. “Thanks.”

  “I’m Greyson and this is Alexis.”

  He knew my name. Of course he did, it was shouted often enough in biology class.

  “I’m Carl. Thanks, really.”