Miss Taken

by Sue Seabury

  Ned finally seemed mollified. I had to bolt to get to bio on time. I didn’t want Mr. Garrone reassigning Kyle to another lab partner. I mean, he’s just so smart, why get stuck with some dud when I can have a whiz?

  Strange but true scientific fact: Male bowerbirds build a complex bachelor pad to attract a mate. They will only leave it to find more materials, or to destroy another bowerbird’s nest.

  We didn’t have a lab in biology. Kyle and I only got the opportunity to smile at each other three times as Garrulous Garrone yakked on about a particularly lengthy, non-sequitur story related to a track meet he attended in high school or college. It went on for so long, it may have spanned both.

  I could tell Kyle definitely felt the same way I did about his totally unrelated-to-science-in-any-way stories. I also had a few new jokes for him, but I didn’t get the chance to try them out during that class.

  Things went pretty well at Ned’s and my lunch date/tutoring/makeout session (DTMS) too. That is, until Kyle showed up.

  Yes, that’s what I said.

  Kyle showed up.

  Of course, he couldn’t have known that we would be there and we did manage to stop sucking face right before he got there. Or at least right after.

  But any way you slice it, it was uncomfortable.

  Things became even more awkward when he said, “Oh, sorry, I’ll find another table,” and I, for reasons that are still unknown even to myself, said, “Oh, that’s okay, you can sit here. We were discussing the math homework.”

  For the record, I said that just to be polite, never thinking in a million years that Kyle would take me up on it. But he did.

  “Awesome.” Kyle shot me with his finger pistol. For the second time that day, Ned looked like he wished Kyle’s finger contained real bullets.

  “Ta very much. I hate eating lunch by myself,” said Kyle. His accent really is adorable, but I would have found it a lot more charming if he had said something more along the lines of, “No, I’ll be going along then,” instead.

  He proceeded to take out his sandwich and started munching away, totally disregarding library rules and Ned’s icy stare, making chummy conversation all the while. “So, what’s up with this Hiro guy? Does he even have a personality? You guys start on the homework yet?” Spotting my paper, he grabbed it. “Can I see?”

  Apparently, it was a rhetorical question.

  Then Ned did one of those fabulous things that he pulls out of nowhere sometimes. He stacked our things in a neat pile and then walked calmly around the table and plucked my homework out of Kyle’s pale, hairless hand without saying a word. He snapped the paper inside one of our books, scooped them up and took my hand with his free one.

  Ned said, “Let’s get out of here,” ignoring Kyle as if he were just another dusty book on the shelf.

  I couldn’t be so bold. I made a gesture of apology at Kyle, which I very much regretted afterwards because Ned caught me.

  But it was rather exciting, although totally nineteenth century, to be led away by the imposing figure of my boyfriend, even if he does lope along in a goofy way sometimes.

  This time, however, Ned strode purposefully, pulling me along until we got out into the corridor. Then he dropped my hand and our books. They crashed onto the floor with an echo that carried quite a distance down the empty hallway.

  Giving me a look which was not benevolent to say the least, Ned demanded, “What’s up with you and -” he made little guns with his hands and shot the air mockingly a few times - “Cowboy Bob there?”

  I started to utter protests, but just then the principal walked out of his office which is right next to the library. I didn’t think having a lovers’ quarrel right in front of him was the best idea, although the idea of being eligible to have a lovers’ quarrel was a little thrilling.

  Robin Jane had to regain control of the situation. “Come,” I said, firmly picking up Ned’s hand again.

  It was freezing and we didn’t have coats but to the courtyard we would go. At the very least, I figured I could cut the argument short due to inclement weather.

  We stood there in the frigid air. I for one was willing to call an immediate cease fire and head back indoors. I took the most direct route: I wrapped as much of me around him as I could for warmth and kissed him.

  Ned was only slightly appeased. “That’s nice but what the hell is up with you and that dude?”

  “Nothing,” the shrill tone of my voice did not add to the veracity of my statement. I sounded totally guilty when all I had done was virtuously assist another hapless member of the mathematically-challenged population.

  Okay, maybe I had a few eensy, weensy disloyal thoughts about the level of Kyle’s cuteness, but my mind seems to have a mind of its own sometimes.

  In a show of mental acumen that I would have preferred he produce at some other time - say, during a math midterm - Ned seemed to be able to read my thoughts exactly. “You think he’s cute.”

  “No!” Once again, my protest sounded lame and unconvincing.

  Ned disentangled himself. “Yes you do.” He started toward the door.

  “Wait, Ned!” I wailed. “Where are you going?”

  “Inside. It’s freakin’ freezin’ out here.”

  Had he instantly forgotten the exchange that just took place or was he dumping me? I ran to catch up with him. “Who cares about Kyle? I l-l-like, I like you.”

  That was a close one. Probably not the best time to bandy about the L-word. I hooked his arm and planted another smooch on his lips to prove my fidelity.

  Ned accepted the kiss, thank goodness. “So it’s Kyle, huh? You guys are on a first name basis already?” There was a wry smirk on his face.

  I took this as a good sign. “Well, actually, we never got to last names. I talked to him for about five seconds after helping him with trinomials yesterday. I guess he just wanted a freebie on the homework.”

  Huh. Now that I said it out loud, this was more than a little likely. And here I was, dumb enough to actually believe his smooth talking.

  “Yeah, well don’t go giving Mr. Wild West any other freebies, okay? This Saturday, you’re busy. Even if it means I have to use my lasso to climb out a second story window.”

  How exciting. Ned was willing to fight for me. Maybe I would let him think...

  No. That would not be an upstanding, honorable, Robin Jane-esque thing to do.

  Strange but true scientific fact: Queen bees battle constantly with their workers over the sex of the offspring. Workers want more females to help but the queen wants mates. When the queen is ready to reproduce she lays all male eggs, which the workers proceed to destroy as fast as possible.

  I managed to have minimal interaction with Kyle for a whole day and a half. I was even happy to cede the honor of escorting him between math and bio to Diana, who claimed it with scantily-concealed triumph. So immature.

  I totally knew I could have him back in a second, anyway, if I wanted him.

  Which I did not.

  For an entire thirty-six hours, I didn’t have a single dishonorable thought about Kyle. Then we had gym. I learned that Kyle got the letter on his jacket for baseball. His athletic talents should have made me despise him, but it didn’t for reasons I will explain.

  Coach Meany has this sixth sense when it comes to sniffing out athletes and chose Kyle as a team captain. No surprise there. The real shocker came when Kyle chose me (!) first (!!) for his volleyball team. I was so honored that I hated to let him down, which I most certainly would do.

  On my word, he picked Diana. This isn’t as suicidal as it sounds. Diana is actually quite good at volleyball, especially when she remembers to wear sneakers instead of heels. I felt slightly drunk with the power I was wielding.

  She pranced over and sat on the other side of Kyle, smiling smugly at the as-yet-unchosen goddesses of all things sporty, Hannah, Meliss and Bree, totally ignoring the role I had played in getting her there.

  In the true spirit of Robin Jane, I l
et her have her paltry victory. She gets so few, it would be cruel to take it away from her.

  I was even willing to go so far as to be preemptive and warn Kyle about my total lack of ability in this sport (and all other sports, but no reason to bring that up today). I don’t like volleyball at all. It hurts. I hate serving because your wrist feels numb and tingly for the rest of the day. And although I no longer have the problem of getting my glasses smashed into my face, it still hurts when the ball collides with your nose, whether or not it also grinds a sharp piece of metal into your eye socket.

  I really tried to make my confession before the picking ended so he could send me back to the corral if he so chose. But the selection went on without my getting a chance to say anything. When I did finally get a word in, Kyle just winked at me. With a click of his invisible gum and a tiny little BB shot out of his finger pistol, he promised, “I’ll take care of you. Just stay by me.”

  A little whiff of jealousy floated over from Hannah’s direction who ended up on our team after all, as well as from several other girls including Bree and Meliss who were all the way across the net. An extra flutter of the eyelashes and a pop of gum told me they had heard every word.

  Kyle started off serving and thoughtfully put me to his left so I would avoid that position for as long as possible. He hit all the balls that came in our direction and bumped into me in a not-unpleasant fashion once or twice. He wasn’t the most fantastic player I had ever seen, but he had great team spirit and willingly took the blame even when someone else really should have gotten the ball.

  Diana really outdid herself today and Kyle gave her a few purely platonic high fives. Then he immediately turned and winked at me in thanks for tipping him off about Diana, but also just because he likes me better.

  Kyle showed me how to serve in a way that was much less painful and forgave me every time I screwed it up anyway. I managed to lose the game that Diana had brought us to the brink of winning. It was utterly humiliating but Kyle was gracious and non-accusatory.

  All I have to say about Diana is that she could have taken a page out of Kyle’s book. It’s not like I did it on purpose. I wanted more than anything to look good in front of the new boy too. And while I was not planning on going out for the volleyball team any time soon, this particular game was the most enjoyable one I had ever played.

  Freckles can really grow on a person.

  His sweat didn’t even smell bad. But before going any further into that kind of thinking, I stopped myself.

  Not only were these thoughts bordering on disloyalty to Ned again, but I needed to be wary because maybe Kyle was just being nice to me so I would help him with math.

  Never before in my life had my math skills been so much in demand. This was pretty cool.

  In the locker room, I overheard some snide comments being made by Meliss and Bree about a certain someone feigning helplessness due to the presence of a new person in a letterman jacket. I protested, if only to myself. Even those two self-absorbed twits should know that when it comes to handling balls, my poor performance is not an act.

  I was very glad I did not make that rebuttal aloud.

  At least Hannah didn’t join in. I was glad of her loyalty, even if it only extended to her keeping silent.

  But it was kind of exhilarating to excite jealousy in girls who think they are so superior.

  I turned to Diana, thinking she would share in my joy of getting one up on the cool girls. She pretended to be deeply engaged in straightening her pantyhose. How is it possible that she finds the one shade of hose that doesn’t match her beige suit and looks nothing like her natural skin color?

  I would have been happy to share this useful advice with her, but Bree and Meliss cracked another joke about me and Kyle, and Diana had the nerve to roll her eyes at me!

  If she wants to look clashy and unpolished, that is her choice.

  Strange but true scientific fact: Stomach acids are strong enough to dissolve razor blades.

  At lunch that day, I toyed with the idea of going to the library again but it felt too risky. I didn’t want to have any more impromptu tête-à-têtes with Kyle. So I went to the cafeteria and sat down by myself with the added protection of a book. The noise made it harder to concentrate, but it was only a boring assignment for English, so it really didn’t matter.

  I was actually sort of getting into the story when I felt someone standing over me.

  Kyle.

  “Mind if I sit with you?” he said, not waiting for an answer. “Funny the way all of life boils down to who you eat lunch with, isn’t it?” He gave me a self-deprecating smile.

  Kyle sure seemed to ask a lot of rhetorical questions. But I could hardly tell him to go away when he was being so honest and vulnerable. Plus, I totally agreed with him.

  He started in on his lunch. “Whatcha reading?”

  “The Odyssey.”

  “It’s not bad, once you get past the weird language.”

  That was just what I was thinking, but I refrained from saying it out loud. I didn’t want to encourage him. I merely nodded.

  I only got about one sentence further when Kyle interrupted again. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but your eyes are so beautiful. They remind me of the Caribbean sea.”

  My first real compliment. How could he think I would misinterpret a comment like that? I set my book down with a snap. “Thank you,” I said with a firm nod. I followed it up with, “Are you from a Caribbean island?”

  “No,” Kyle dismissed the idea with a clack of his invisigum. He flicked his shades down in front of his eyes as if imagining the glare of the hot equatorial sun. “Been there a few times though.”

  I was just about to ask which island he was from when he cut me off with, “So, who do you have for French?”

  “M. Waddell.”

  “Mister Waddell, eh?” He pronounced it “waddle.” “What’s he like?”

  “It’s Monsieur Waddell. Don’t ever let him hear you call him Mister. Even though he naps through most of class, he’s weird strict about a few things.”

  “Naps?”

  “Yeah. We watch a lot of videos.”

  “Sounds cool, you know, easy-peasy.”

  I agreed that it was not the most challenging class I had ever taken. He winked at me as he took a big bite of his hamburger. He ate his lunch cheerfully and neatly without getting crumbs and ketchup all over his face like some people I know. I, however, did not feel comfortable eating in front of this cute boy.

  I mean, this plain, ordinary boy.

  As he chewed, I mentally ran through the list of islands he could still be from now that the Caribbean was out. Kyle is in Miss Bourgeois’ French class, which is a level above mine. I wondered momentarily if he was from Tahiti. But that didn’t make sense because then he wouldn’t need to take French at all. I narrowed the list.

  I was still wondering if the people of Bali spoke English when Kyle walked into M. Waddell’s room. Due to my extraordinary auditory skills, from the back of the room I could hear him say he was switching to my class.

  There happened to be an empty seat next to me that day. M. Waddell is so laid back (or lazy), he doesn’t care where anyone sits. Kyle made a beeline for the desk next to mine. His attentiveness pleased me but I was careful not to show it.

  It was one of the rare days when we weren’t watching a video, so we couldn’t chat. I was actually kind of relieved. After spending so many hours in his company I needed a break from keeping my stomach sucked in and having a a pleasant, non-vacant expression plastered on my face all the time.

  As we walked from French to woodshop, I asked if he would be taking the bus that afternoon. He said his mother was “a little bit of a freak” about buses and so she drives him. Kyle looked embarrassed about it, so I was left conjecturing as to what direction her freakishness took.

  Strange but true scientific fact: After skin, the liver is the 2nd largest human organ. It performs over 200 functions, and is the only inter
nal organ that spontaneously regenerates.

  For our next French class, we had a video, M. Waddell not being in the habit of having to exert himself two days in a row. Kyle chose the seat next to me again. I made a point of being very interested in what Mirabelle and Michael were up to in the Live It! Learn It! French tape.

  At least I was until a little wad of paper appeared on my desk. Kyle’s wink let me know who it was from. It would be rude not open it. It said, “Hey.”

  It would also be rude not to reply. I scribbled, “Hey,” and crumpled it back up. I double checked to make sure M. Waddell was still dozing before dropping it deftly onto Kyle’s desk. Well, I thought I was being smooth. I missed by half an inch because even little balls of paper refuse to cooperate with my fingers.

  It fell on the floor and bounced half a row in front of us. It wasn’t exactly an incriminating piece of paper, but I still didn’t want to get caught passing notes during class because when you do, you have to fill up a chalkboard with some obscure phrase like “The asparagus takes the train from the North Station” and then wash it off afterwards till the board is like new.

  In other words, not worth getting caught over two “heys.”

  I stretched the toe of my granny boot out as far as it would go, but it was still several inches beyond my reach. I didn’t want to move my chair and risk waking up M. Waddell.

  Kyle rather ingeniously saved the day by finding a yardstick leaning against the wall next to him and retrieved it that way. He flattened the paper out, read it, wrote a longer sentence back and then crumpled it up again. He had this neat little technique where he hung his hand down at his side, but then flicked his wrist somehow so the ball of paper popped up into the air.

  I may be repeating myself, but it is so unfair the way some people get all the athletic talent.

  The paper dropped neatly in the center of my desk. I smiled before I remembered that I wasn’t supposed to be encouraging him. I flattened out the sheet again and read it. “Is this really what you guys do in here every day?”