Oh, brother. Who says guys are clueless?
“And I just wanted to say, if it’s because of anything I’ve done, or said, or didn’t say…I just want to apologize.”
My mouth actually fell open a little. I swallowed, but I couldn’t quite think of anything to say.
“Well? It is going to be ‘auld acquaintance be forgot,’ or what?”
I tilted my head and scrutinized him for a moment. “But you’re not really going to change, are you?”
He hesitated. “Well, it is a new year. And people can change, you know.”
“Yeah, they can. I believe that,” I agreed. “And sometimes, change is good.”
“Sometimes it’s necessary.”
“Yeah, sometimes it is. But it’s hard to force change. And I told you back at the beginning that you didn’t have to fake anything with me.”
“I remember that,” he replied slowly. “You did.”
“Sorry that I haven’t been living up to that tonight.”
He sighed. “And here I thought I was apologizing to you.”
I opened my mouth, but just then, the countdown began. “Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, FIVE, FOUR, THREE, TWO, ONE—HAPPY NEW YEAR!!” Noise makers were blown all around us, and arms pulled other bodies close in kissing embraces.
I stood there feeling awkward, sort of wanting Davin to kiss me but not wanting to initiate it myself…so much for Girl Power. I shot a brief glance his way.
He smiled at me shyly and took a step closer. I froze, heart pounding, as he put one hand on my cheek and leaned toward me. I swallowed, gazing up at him with what I hoped was an expectant (and not alarmed) expression. He bent his head toward mine and kissed me…on the cheek.
My heart sank, a boulder descending to the bottom of the ocean. I pulled back a little stiffly, but he held me in place with his other arm—when had he put it around my waist?
Our dark eyes locked and my breath caught in my chest. Then before I knew it, he had kissed me on the lips. It wasn’t a real kiss; certainly it was not a movie-style, make-out kiss. It was just two pairs of lips barely pressing together—the lightest brush—and it was over. Yet somehow I felt like my heart was going to explode.
“Happy New Year, Anna,” he whispered, his breath warm on my face.
“H-Happy New Year,” I stammered.
For a fraction of a second, he looked like he was going to kiss me again, his head tilting toward me and his eyes slowly closing. Just then, It happened again; in one fluid motion, he stiffened and his eyes flew open. He quickly straightened up and let me go, just when I needed support the most. Then he shot me one of the saddest, most ironic smiles I have ever seen in my life. “Droga,” he sighed. “I guess you were right.”
I was already reeling, trying to figure out what I’d done to make him pull back from our kiss. “About wha—I don’t know what you mean.”
“Changing,” he replied, not looking at me, but outside at the brilliantly clear midnight sky. He finally turned a guilty glance on me. “I guess I can’t force myself to change after all.”
“Isn’t it better if change comes gradually?” I couldn’t help asking, though I had no idea what he was talking about.
“You know,” he replied, “sometimes I think the universe doesn’t want me to change anyway. I think I’m supposed to be miserable.”
I disagreed, but was too confused to make a rational argument then and there.
He was gathering up his coat and wadding up his trash. “I’m sorry,” he sighed. “I really, truly am. I want you to believe that.”
Now, I knew that a few kids had snuck in some alcohol—which was not permitted in Dubsy dorms—and though I hadn’t knowingly consumed any, I was beginning to wonder if the soda was spiked after all. Had I missed something? “Sorry—for what? Kissing me?”
“No!” He exclaimed sharply. “A-are you?”
Incoherent syllables that in no way resembled words were all I could get out. I shook my head vehemently.
“Oh. Okay. No, I meant sorry,” he put his hand on my arm and handed me my jacket, “that I have to leave. Right Now. And I can’t even walk you back to your dorm. I mean—that is, maybe you want to stay.”
I blinked. “No.”
“Well,” he mumbled to himself, “okay, maybe I have time. Yes, if we walk fast, I can take you.” He led me out the door and into the bitterly chilly night. Davin’s idea of walking fast was basically to sprint. And while I enjoy a good run, I don’t enjoy jogging just to keep up with someone.
Though I was panting and the freezing air stabbed my lungs like I was breathing knives, I managed to ask, “Where is it exactly—that—you have—to go—anyway?”
“I just have some things to take care of,” he replied shortly.
Things? He obviously didn’t want me to ask any more, which made me all the more curious. I knew I wasn’t really entitled to an explanation, so I tried to keep from letting another question pop out before we reached my dorm. I fished in my pocket for my key card. “Thanks for walking me over,” I gasped, feeling horribly out of shape, and rightfully so.
“Thanks for ringing in the new year with me,” he replied. The way he leaned forward made my stomach twist up, thinking he was going in for another kiss, but instead he held the door open for me. “Sorry I’ve got to run off.” He looked sad.
“You know what, Davin? It’s okay,” I told him. “Really. I was getting tired anyway.”
He hesitated, frowning again. “Yeah, but back there….”
“Back there I was being a jerk, and I’m sorry. I’m serious: you don’t have to change who you are to be my friend. Auld acquaintance long forgot.”
He stared at me for a long second. “Well, thanks, Anna.”
I nodded. “Goodnight. And good luck with your…things.” That sounded awful, but I didn’t know what else to say.
“Thanks,” he repeated, standing back. “And thanks for coming tonight. It was…good.” I fought a desire to laugh. Sure it was good. “Oh, and,” he added, still backing up, “just so we’re clear, I, uh…I trust you, too.” I let the door close behind him, but stayed to watch him dash away: a shadowy figure just beyond the light posts, streaking off into the darkness.
Back in my room, I turned on my roommate’s TV to see if there was any news of my favorite hero. They kept doing teasers about a Dark Lightning story on the way while they waxed prophetic about the New Year. I began to doze off the later it got, but one chilling story caught my attention.
“While we’ve obtained several reports already tonight of people receiving assistance from Dark Lightning, a female Pitt student was not so lucky,” the anchorwoman said. “Steve is on the scene. Steve?”
Steve stood in front of a building at the University of Pittsburgh. “Thanks, Karen. Police officials have informed me that a female student was followed into her dorm room and attacked tonight. The victim’s identity has not been released, and the police are saying the suspect is still at large. We are working to get updated information, including a description of the attacker, as soon as possible. In the meantime, the police and University officials are cautioning all students to be vigilant and take all precautions to lock their doors securely.”
I shivered and automatically checked my own door as the anchorwoman thanked the reporter and went to a commercial. Who would do such a thing? I wondered. And why?
Chapter Nine
“Friendship is born at that moment
when one person says to another:
What! You too?
I thought I was the only one.”
—C. S. Lewis
Before I knew it, campus began filling up again. The new semester started and we walked to our classes all bundled up only to shed our coats in the profusely heated buildings. Life became busy again. So busy and so crowded, in fact, that I almost wished the break had never ended and I’d be able to read in peace without some horrible assignment hanging over my head.
Nicki, my roommate, was a very st
udious girl who took life much too seriously. She always made me feel guilty for not studying more even though she never said a word. She would just work so steadily that I felt wrong for watching a movie or reading when I had papers to write. But that was Nicki. So long as it was quiet enough to get her work done and we always passed room inspections, we got along.
Room checks were a weekly occurrence in Dubsy dorms. Or, in my case, a weekly inconvenience. It was an archaic tradition from the college’s earlier days, like the gender-segregated dorms. Basically it meant that once a week, when our RA came by, our dorm and our half of the suite bathroom had to be clean.
We always passed, or very nearly. Allie, the Resident Advisor on our floor, was not too strict—but she would flunk anyone for having open food or dirty dishes out because she was terrified of promoting a roach infestation. I didn’t have much, so it wasn’t too hard to keep my side tidy. I did forget to clean our bathroom once when it was my turn, though. Nicki didn’t say anything, but I could feel her resentment after Allie apologetically flunked us and left.
I wanted a friend to talk to. With so many other people around, I shouldn’t still have felt the same empty loneliness I had over the break. But the busyness and bustle of the semester meant I had less time to connect with anyone. Tiffany and I had already drifted apart. We no longer had classes together, and I just didn’t see the point in putting a lot of effort into friendships like hers and Misty’s that didn’t really let me be myself. I thought of Davin often and all our good talks, but as usual, he was hard to catch.
Occasionally I ran into him at the cafeteria; we ate together a few times, but it was always interrupted the same way our first lunch had been. And sometimes I saw him, but it was always at the wrong time—he was on his way out and I’d just arrived, or the other way around. He was always friendly at those times, but also distracted and distant. It seemed that despite our bonding and our almost-date, we were no closer than we had been at the beginning of the school year.
I hung out with the comic book club a few times, but I needed some female companionship. The guys were mostly nice; but after that annoying Gregory kid rubbed it in my face that Dark Lightning was chased by the police (it was a misunderstanding, as usual), I started to avoid them.
I was lonely; the people I ended up talking to remained acquaintances and we never talked about anything deep. I didn’t like to show that side of myself. I’d just smile, be cheery, or maybe complain about the loads of homework or the slow cafeteria line or whatever other meaningless, mundane things were being discussed. And I had no one to laugh with.
I had always thought that I was fine with being alone. Halfway through high school, I moved from Brazil to America, and it took me forever to make friends. I had culture shock of virtually every kind, besides which I was awkward, geeky, and shy. So I ate alone, telling myself that it was fine while I watched other people have normal conversations with their friends.
But I got through it, and I wore it like a badge of honor—I Can Be Alone and it's Okay. I had told myself countless times since then that I didn’t mind solitude and quiet, and that was true. Most of the time. I wasn’t so desperate that I was out there, partying and meeting people to escape my loneliness; no, I preferred to hold out for something truer, something real.
Still, when the moment shifts, and you realize you don't actually want to be alone, that underneath the bravado is an ache that won’t quite fade away, you’re not only aware of how lonely you are, but how much you've been lying to yourself. And that was how I felt. I wanted real friends, but it felt like weakness to admit it. Instead, I soldiered on into the semester.
One day, just as winter was finally surrendering to the inevitable spring and renewal of life, I went for a run around campus. It was the first day I hadn’t needed a heavy coat in months. I was reveling in the returning greenness and the arrival of a few brave flowers. We had a lovely campus, and there was a woodsy sort of spot that I had discovered in the autumn, when the leaves were bright and vivid. I first jogged around some of the back trails of campus, saving the woods for my cool down; I wanted to end my run by delighting in the new growth. Spring always made me feel like maybe I would start growing again. Chronologically as well as metaphorically, I’d had a wintry couple of months and I was longing for some sunshine and color back in my life.
I stopped short just as I reached the edge; sitting under a large maple tree was a girl. She was leaning against the trunk and reading—I couldn’t tell what book. I was actually kind of annoyed at first, because I knew I wouldn’t be able to enjoy “my” woods as much. I’d feel as though she were scrutinizing me. But when I got closer and saw the peaceful, contemplative face of the auburn-haired girl, I decided that maybe I was wrong.
She looked up from her book just then—not at me, but up at the blue sky above. She looked utterly lost in thought, and I paused where I was; I didn’t want to interrupt her. Then she closed her eyes, drew in a deep breath, and her lips moved faintly. Was she praying? I was very intrigued, and kept watching.
As she let out her breath, she opened her eyes and saw me. “Hi,” she said, blushing faintly across her freckles.
“Hi,” I replied, feeling at least as awkward and embarrassed as she seemed to. I tried to find a way to smooth things over and look like less of a creeper. “What are you reading?” I asked, casually resuming my post-run stretches.
“Out of the Silent Planet,” she told me.
I straightened. “Really?” She nodded and showed me the cover. “How do you like it?”
She thought a moment. “It’s interesting,” she replied. “It’s good. A bit outdated scientifically—it’s about a trip to Mars and interacting with its inhabitants—but highly imaginative just the same.”
I nodded, stretching out my other hamstring. “Yeah. It’s pretty fascinating, his take on why the planet would appear red from afar and what the different creatures would be like.”
“You’ve read it!” She sounded surprised.
“I have. I read through the trilogy every few years, actually.”
She raised an eyebrow. “So, you like C. S. Lewis?”
“I grew up on him. He’s one of my favorite authors,” I confessed.
Her face lit up. “Me, too!” She got to her feet. “I’m Jill,” she added, walking over and holding out her hand.
I smiled and stood up straight again. “I’m Anna.”
“Nice to meet you, Anna. What year are you?”
“Freshman. You?”
“First semester sophomore. I started in January last year. What’s your major?”
I sighed. “Undecided. Leaning toward Sociology.”
She nodded approval. “That’s cool.”
“What about you?”
She smiled ruefully. “As crazy as it sounds, Theology.”
“Oh! Actually, that sounds like it would be interesting. How do you like it?”
“I love it,” she admitted. “But...I think I’m going to have to drop it back to a minor, and switch to Elementary Ed.”
“You have to?” I echoed. “Well...” she sighed, “as much as I love what I’m studying, it’s not the most practical major. I’m not planning on being a pastor, so I think I should have a degree in something more in line with what I want to do. I love kids, so I figure being a teacher could be fun.” She shrugged. “It’s a tough call, which is why I was praying about it just now.”
“Well, I hope you figure it out,” I said, honestly.
“Me, too. But I’m going to have to figure it out inside, I think. I’m starting to get chilly out here.”
The breeze had indeed picked up; the sweat that had thankfully cooled me down while running suddenly made me feel too cold. “Yeah, I should get back, too.”
“What dorm do you live in?” she asked, starting down the path.
“Mercy,” I replied walking beside her.
“No way!” she exclaimed. “That’s where I live. What floor?” We determined that we must nev
er cross paths because she was on the first floor, left side, and I was on the third floor, right side, and—
“‘Ne’er the twain shall meet,’” Jill finished poetically. “Till now.”
We walked back to our dorm together, and in the lounge, reiterated our enjoyment at meeting each other as we prepared to go our separate ways. Since it was rare for me to feel so quickly at ease with anyone, I impulsively asked her if she’d like to join me for dinner later.
A shy but sincere smile spread across her face. “Yes, I would,” she replied. “Thanks for asking, Anna.” We stood in the lounge a moment longer, to arrange a time for us to meet up again.
But somehow, one thing led to another, and we ended up standing there talking for a couple of hours. As we stood there, having totally lost track of time, a sudden stream of girls began to exit the dorm. It didn’t take us long to figure out that it was already dinner time.
Jill laughed. “I can’t believe we’ve been talking this whole time! I was going to go up and change and put my book away, maybe even take a nap. Instead I’ve been blabbing away!”
“We both were,” I corrected. “But I can’t believe it, either. I was going to take a shower,” I sighed.
She smiled at me. “Oh, who cares about how we look. It’s not like you smell or anything. Let’s just go!”
“Okay,” I agreed. “You’re right. Who cares?”
“It’s not like we’re trying to impress anyone,” Jill continued, as we changed course and headed back out. “Right?”
“Right,” I echoed. Then I thought of Davin. “Well...maybe just one person....”
We walked to dinner, ate together, and talked nearly the whole time. I was amazed that I had as much in common with her as I did. I’d been raised mostly in a completely different country, yet we were so similar. We shared a love of books and romantic movies, as well as a similar faith. We talked easily and when we didn’t, we were comfortably silent. But mostly we talked.
It was nice. Even in high school, I’d mostly had makeshift friends forged by the shared status of outcast. It was rare for me to discuss things so easily to someone outside of my family, but somehow Jill got me. I’d only met one other person I’d connected to as quickly, and it certainly didn’t take long for me to confide in her about him.
Tall, Dark Streak of Lightning (The Dark Lightning Trilogy) Page 10
