When we reached the first food truck, I was hit by the strong sent of fried dough that brought happy memories of past fairs and carnivals with it.
Clarissa clapped her hands and rubbed them together. “Where to start?”
“I don’t know.” I scanned the place.
“Are you going to eat real food or that bird food Sylvia wants?”
“Do you really need to ask?”
She laughed. “Fine, I’ll meet you back at the tent. This may take a while.” She walked to the nearest food stand and stood in line. How she stayed so thin eating nothing but junk was a mystery.
On my way back with our organic gyros, I spotted Brad laughing it up with one of his friends and decided that walking through the crowd balancing two food baskets was annoying enough without being hit on. So I slipped into the back alley that ran behind the booths. The canvas walls made me feel like a horse with blinders on but at least no one was back here.
“Maribel!”
I rolled my eyes at the familiar voice and turned around to see Brad and his friend Levi sauntering toward me. “What’s up, Brad?”
“Besides my heart rate every time I look at you?”
I groaned. “Yes, besides that.”
He grinned. “You’re a tough cookie to crack. I’ll give you that.”
“And I’ll take it… I’ve got to get to back to my booth. See ya.” As soon as I turned his hand was on my elbow.
“You don’t have to go so soon, do you?” he whispered.
I stared at where his hand rested, confused and angry that he was touching me. Balancing my food, I tried to pull my elbow out of his grasp and he tugged me closer. “Stop, Brad. I really have to go.”
“People will see your pretty paintings whether you’re there or not,” he said.
I looked behind him at Levi, his grin told me that he was entertained by his friend’s antics.
Brad’s eyes blazed as he raked them over me and I felt a chill run up my spine. Brad had chosen a secluded spot to take his flirting games to a different level of creepy. There was no one around. My heart jumped in my chest and I dropped the food in my hands, suddenly realizing that it wasn’t important and pushed him away with both hands. Brad’s grasp slipped, but only for a moment.
“Stop!” I screamed, terror pumping through me. Why wasn’t he listening to me?
He pulled me close and ran his hand down my back.
I closed my eyes, fighting back tears, and when I opened them, Brad was on the ground. My head was spinning and I felt a little sick, it took longer than it should have to realize that Jaron was standing next to me shaking in anger. Brad was nursing a bleeding nose and before I could shake out of my shock, Levi was charging Jaron. Jaron quickly leveled him with an upper-cut to his jaw.
When both boys were still, Jaron turned to me. “Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” His jaw tightened as he shifted his gaze back to Brad and Levi. I’d never seen anyone more angry. All of Jaron’s muscles were tensed and I knew that he had red lined. I wasn’t sure how much control he had over it, but I knew that I needed to defuse the situation before it got out of hand.
“I’m fine, no one hurt me. He was just being stupid.” I shot a dirty look at Brad, who was getting back on his feet.
“Hey,” he whimpered.
“Don’t interrupt her.” He glared at Brad and then at me. “I wouldn’t call what he was doing stupid, you defending him… now that’s stupid. Oh, and finding the only secluded spot in this whole area and going there alone? Yeah that’s also stupid.”
My mouth fell open. I wanted to scream at him.
“You two, get out of here and don’t ever touch a woman without her permission to do so.”
Brad looked at me sheepishly. “Sorry, Maribel. I didn’t mean to… I was just joking around—”
Jaron’s teeth audibly snapped, and Brad must have taken it as his cue to leave.
I was still shaking when the boys were gone, from shock at what happened or anger at Jaron, I couldn’t tell. Slowly I turned to him and he mirrored my move. For a long while we just glared at each other. His face was as hard and glorious as an avenging angel, though I couldn’t understand why he was so angry at me. I broke eye contact to look down at our ruined dinner.
“Come on,” he grumbled. “I’ll get you another.”
“No thanks, I can get it myself.” My appetite was gone, but I needed to at least get one for Sylvia.
“I’d feel better if you let me get you something to eat.”
“Why would that make you feel better? Why do you care?”
He turned his gaze to the ground. “I saw them follow you and I should have come to check on you sooner. It’s really my fault that your dinner’s in the grass.”
“It’s not your fault, and even if it was, you wouldn’t need to make it up to me. You just stopped Brad from doing something I know he would have regretted. He’s a stupid meat head, not a bad guy.”
“If he wasn’t a bad guy, he wouldn’t have been touching you like that!”
This guy! “I’m trying to say thank you, now stop freaking out. I’m fine and I’m outta here.”
On my way back, Jaron trailed three feet behind me, saying nothing. When I passed the sculpture of the woman again, I frowned. The artist still wasn’t there. I caught Jaron’s eye, he was grinning and my breathing hitched. His smile was such a beautiful sight. I stomped on to the gyro stand, hoping he would get bored and stop following me. He was the only guy I’d ever had a sliver of attraction for. Did he have to be an unpredictable bipolar mess? And maybe it was more than a sliver of attraction. My cheeks were warm and my skin prickled into goosebumps. Was it normal to feel hot and cold at the same time just because someone was near you?
When I turned into my booth with our dinner, Jaron just walked on by like the rest of the hoard.
“Took you long enough,” Clarissa said around a mouthful of onion rings.
“Oh, Gyros!” Sylvia squeaked.
I knew it would be a mistake to tell either of them about what had happened with Brad, so I did my best to act normally.
“Yeah they smell good. I almost ate them on the way here,” I said as I watch Jaron’s back disappear around the corner. He was trying to make me crazy. I wasn’t one of those girls who swooned and fawned over a boy. Let alone one that my logical brain said was trouble. So why was I sad watching him go?
3
“SEE YOU AT TODAY’S MEET,” I called out to Clarissa.
“We will kick ass!” she shouted, earning a glare from the history teacher in the hallway.
Jaron walked directly behind me on the way to art after an uneventful English lesson.
I pulled my stool out and rolled my sleeves up.
“So, is this seat still taken?” he asked narrowing his eyes.
“Not that I know of.” I sat down, telling myself to make nice with him. However cocky he seemed, he had to be a good guy. Not everyone would have done what he had. He had been outnumbered and I was perfect stranger to him.
He relaxed a bit. “Do you want to talk about what happened?” He set a blank canvas on his easel.
“No.”
“Are you sure? Sometimes it helps to talk.” He faced me and I could feel his gaze.
“How would you know what will help?” I sighed. Be nice, be nice, be nice. “It wasn’t a big deal. Honestly. I think I overacted.”
“You can never overact when someone is doing something to you that you don’t want done… You could have slapped him with a brick and it still wouldn’t have been an overreaction.”
I laughed, picturing Brad getting smacked with a brick.
Jaron smiled. “So are you an artsy girl?” He gestured to my blank canvas.
“Are you an artsy guy?” I asked, not used to answering questions about myself.
“No, not really. But your school doesn’t have shop. So if I can’t build. I thought I’d try my hand at this. It’s better than nothing, even if I’m terrible.”
&nb
sp; His hands were thick, calloused, and looked like they were made for building, I wasn’t sure if they were made for art. “I don’t really think of myself as artsy. I just really like to paint.”
He picked up one of my paint brushes. “You any good?”
I paused, not wanting to sound full of myself. Truth was I had painted what people referred to as masterpieces since I was eight. The term masterpiece would indicate that I was a master, and I wasn’t buying that. But they were enjoyable to look at, and that’s all I cared about. “Some people think so.”
“Are any of these yours?” he asked, gesturing around the room to the various paintings and sketches on the walls.
“Um… there aren’t any in here. But I do have one hanging up in the school.” For some reason I didn’t want him to see my painting. The kids at school were a little weirded out by it. “Why were you at the art exhibit if you aren’t an artsy guy?”
“Even a simple non-tortured soul can enjoy beauty every now and again... Of course, I may have just smelled food and started running towards the source.”
“So you’re not a sad sack with a book of emo poetry and a tortured soul? I don’t know if we can be friends.” I grinned.
“If you want a tortured soul, I can give it to you.”
“I believe you,” I said. I’d seen him completely explode in anger and beat two guys that weren’t exactly shrimps.
“So what do you do when you’re not getting into trouble, arguing, and painting?” A small dimple appeared as he smiled.
“That’s it, you just summed up my life,” I said, shrugging.
“You said something to Clarissa about a meet?”
“Swim meet,” I clarified.
“Is that something I need to check out?”
Jaron watching me compete? The mere thought sent my stomach into back flips that made me nauseous. “No! It would be pretty boring, just back and forth across a pool… So where are you from?” I asked, trying to shift the conversation to him.
He hesitated a fraction of a second. “Abbeville.”
“I pegged you as an out-of-stater,” I said honestly. I couldn’t recall exactly where Abbeville was, but I knew it was in Louisiana. He looked so much different than everyone here in Winnfield. I had expected some exotic place that I'd never heard of. “Where is Abbeville, anyway?”
He shrugged. “It’s a three hour drive, pretty much directly south.”
I pulled up a map of my home state in my head and realized that his directions put Abbeville tantalizingly near the ocean. “Is it close to the ocean? How close? Have you been there?” I said in a rush.
“Well haven’t you ever been? It isn’t that far away,” he said cocking an eyebrow.
I flinched. It was such a confusing thing to be so drawn to something and yet have such fear ingrained in you about it. I tried to recover myself. I didn’t really enjoy recanting my parents' untimely deaths. Really, who would? Especially with some guy I didn’t even know. It had been bad enough telling the story through the years to explain my constant inability to go with friends on a quick trip to the beach. “No I’ve never been. Tell me about it.”
Mr. Reed glided over, her tied dyed fabric billowing around her.
He gave me an apologetic smile. “Maybe some other time.”
“You are my new student, no? Come, let me take you on a tour of my art room.” She spoke with a thick French accent, though we all knew that she was from Portland.
I STRETCHED MY LEGS OUT on the bench in front of the gym, waiting for Clarissa to exit. Sunlight filtered through the foyer windows, making me glad as always that the winter months were short and not too cold in Louisiana. I admired the bit of sun I'd gotten on my legs. The warming spring weather had me in a good mood, or maybe it was something (or someone) else. I had looked for Jaron at lunch, but was disappointed. I was riding a strange adrenaline high. I couldn’t be sure, but I thought I was more excited than usual for the meet.
Clarissa kicked open the gym doors, making me jump. “Hey, crazy girl, how was the rest of your day?”
I loved Clarissa. She just said whatever was on her mind and although it ostracized her in the easily offended high school community, it just endeared her to me.
“It was fairly uneventful, after second period,” I said, smothering on the nonchalance.
She bit right away. “And what happened in second period, since you obviously want me to ask.”
She could always see right through me. I delved in. “Jaron’s in my art class, and I might not think he’s a total jerk anymore.” My stomach felt like it was being tickled from the inside, and I thought the sensation was called butterflies, though that was the first time I’d ever experienced it.
Clarissa laughed. “Please tell me you were a bit more… smooth? Watching you after English yesterday was like witnessing the Titanic sinking. It was all slow-mo—” Her demeanor shifted and her face lost its color. She looked at me apologetically. It only took a moment for me to realize that she was horrified at her choice of words. My parents had actually sunk into the ocean.
“It’s okay,” I assured her with a squeeze of her hand. We walked toward the sickly green metal doors that led outside. “And I’m not sure if I was any smoother. I’ve decided that boys drop my IQ and increase my agitation.”
She held the door open for me. “If you think you're the first girl to decide that you're outside your mind.”
I laughed. Men and women had been driving each other crazy since the beginning of time. “I’ve never felt this way before, though. I mean, I have been annoyed by tons of boys, but it was different with him. He just crawled under my skin.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “In a good way or a bad way?”
I took a moment to think about it, matching her leisurely stride; neither of us was in a hurry to get to the pool. I looked up at the pale blue sky, raising my hand to block out the too close Louisiana sun. I thought about Jaron. Why did he get under my skin? Was it just his unbelievable good looks? Was it because he seemed honestly curious about me as a person? Or was it the way he challenged me like no one ever had? “I don’t know. I’ll have to get back to you on it.”
“Always in your head. One thing you won’t have to think on too hard is his looks. He's a hottie with a body for sure!” She paused, cocking her head to the side. “Actually you might need to think about his looks whenever you get the chance.”
We broke into a torrent of giggles as we rounded the corner, leaving the school ground behind us. Winnfield was such a lovely town. We’d lived elsewhere, but this was the only place that I had a memory of. It was a small town full of history and intrigue, and everyone’s great-great something or other had been a big part of the civil war. I loved the shapes and detail of all of the old buildings. Ours was one of the oldest residential structures in the area, but down town was full of the spectacular things. The city pool was one of the newest buildings, and rumor had it that construction of the Olympic sized indoor/outdoor facility had been funded by my aunt and uncle. They told me not to believe everything I heard. The outside was all gray and stainless steel. I opened one of the many sleek doors and followed Clarissa in. The scent of chlorine stung my nostrils, and although I still didn’t enjoy the smell, it carried with it happy memories and the promise of swimming.
I almost missed the entrance to our locker room and collided with the wall, but Clarissa stopped me before I face planted.
“Jeez. You are distracted today!” she accused. “I've never seen you like this… it’s fun!”
“Come on, I have to deal with you having a new crush every other month. Take it easy on me. I’m new at this.”
She twisted the knob on her locker quickly. “I’m just excited for you. I remember my first crush. Bobby Sanders, he was six, I was five.” Clarissa opened the small door with a metallic clank. “I wonder where he is now?”
I rolled my eyes. “So what did you think about him?” I asked, spinning my combination on the dial.
Sh
e lifted an eyebrow. “About Bobby? I guess he was a good boyfriend, hard to tell we were so young.” She shifted her eyes to me impishly.
“You know who I meant.” I threw my towel at her.
She caught it before it hit the cold cement floor and tossed it back to me casually. “Besides the obvious?” She wiggled her eyebrows.
I nodded.
“He’s different. I can’t tell if it’s good different or bad different.”
I frowned.
“Maribel, anyone who can get your attention has to be special.” She smiled reassuringly at me.
“I hope he’s good different, like you,” I said.
She opened her mouth forming a capitol O. “What? Different, me?” she said, feigning hurt. “So what are we going to do for an hour, and don't say you brought a book to read!” Clarissa said in horror.
“Well, actually I have a couple in my locker if you want to read too…” I said hopefully, but her facial expression told me it was a no go. “And I also have a deck of cards we could play—”
“Sold! Let’s get a tan while I beat you.” She dragged me away from my locker/bookshelf.
OUR TEAMMATES BEGAN to trickle in, and Aunt Sylvia arrived before the coach or any of the other parents did. She waved at me from the stand, still looking a bit on guard. I shook my head. I'd never known her to put any stock in dreams. We always laughed together when those psychic infomercials came on, now it seemed she would call the one eight hundred number at the bottom of the screen. I wondered off-hand if she had some kind of whimsical new age yoga instructor that liked to interpret dreams.
“Sylvia looks more nervous than usual. She can’t be worried about the meet. We all know you’ll win every match you’re in,” Clarissa said as she stretched her shoulders.
“I wish it was something that normal. She’s freaked out about some dream I had.”
She paused mid-stretch. “Are you for real? Oh, the worrywart knows no bounds! What are they going to do when we go to college next fall?”
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