I thought of how her hand felt in mine; it had been warm and soft. I automatically reached out my hand again toward hers and caught myself just in time to pretend to reach to feel the bump on my forehead. I must have bumped my head harder than I thought.
“Hey, are you new?” I asked.
“Yeah, my name is Isolda. Today is my first day.” She smiled at me.
“I’m Tristen. I am not new here. I’ve lived here as long as I can remember,” I said.
“Oh, okay… So if I need to know something, I’ll come to you,” she responded.
“Where are you from? I asked.
She hesitated, thinking. “I’m from-well, Colorado, California, Utah and Georgia. Oh and Texas, too. My family moves around a lot. My mom just got a job here. She wanted to live closer to the beach.” She paused, “And my favorite color is green.” She smiled playfully.
Green. Like her eyes.
“What is your favorite color?” she asked.
“Blue.”
Green-Blue. Like her eyes.
“Do you have any brothers or sisters?” I asked.
“Yep, two sisters and one brother. Do you?”
“No. It’s just me.”
I wanted to ask her more questions, but didn’t want to seem too intrusive. She leaned toward me, her face close to mine. My heart beat loudly in my chest and I wondered if her glossy lips would taste like watermelon. Her finger touched my cheek, and she pulled it slightly down, then she turned to look at it.
“Make a wish and blow on it.” I looked at her finger; she had turned it back toward me. There was an eyelash on it. I closed my eyes and, feeling self-conscious, made a quick wish. Thoughts of her and me lying on the sand came to mind. I blew on it and she smiled.
“Don’t tell me what you wished for.”
No worries!
“Don’t worry.” I looked down, trying to ignore the slight heat on my face.
An awkward silence grew between us and I studied the marks on the floor. She continued to study me and my self-consciousness grew. Her eyes looked over me, taking in my appearance.
Can she hear that my heart is beating a thousand beats per minute?
“So, what do you think of school so far?” I asked. Anything to break the silence.
“Oh, I love it,” she exclaimed. “Everyone seems so nice. Once Suzanne found out that I was on the cheerleading squad at my old school, she offered to let me try out here. My teachers seem to be pretty helpful too. At least, so far.”
“I’m glad you like it here.” I smiled. I was still holding the ice to my head and it was beginning to give me a headache.
“Okay, I think I’m done with this.” I put the ice back on Nurse Allan’s desk.
She looked at the clock. “We should probably be get back to gym. It’s almost over.”
“Yeah. Good idea.”
Bad idea. Very bad idea.
As we both walked slowly back to the gym, I was hyper-aware of the way our hands almost touched as we walked. When we got back the teams were just finishing up and we walked our separate ways.
“Bye,” she playfully swatted my arm and walked off toward her locker room.
❦
For the rest of the day, I looked for the new girl with the hope that she was in my class. In history, I sat next to Ailey and waited impatiently.
“Waiting for the storming of the Bastille?” Ailey laughed at me. I ignored her. “Or maybe the new girl? What’s her name?”
“Isolda,” I replied automatically. I looked at her critically. “How did you know?”
“You’re not the first male I’ve spoken to today,” she replied with a huge grin on her face. For the first time in our friendship together her eyes did not draw me in; I was too busy looking for Isolda. Ailey continued to smirk and I continued to ignore her. The bell rang and, disappointed, I spread my books out on the table, pen out, ready to take notes.
“Maybe she’s late. She is new after all,” she said. I was too disappointed to engage with Ailey.
Suddenly the door sprung open and, like a ballerina, Isolda danced through the door. My eyes lit up at the sight of her and my heart immediately beat faster.
“Wow,” Ailey said, watching me drool.
I agree. Too bad the seat next to me was taken.
Ailey laughed. “I almost don’t believe it. You never pay attention to girls,” she said, almost to herself.
“I disagree. I pay too much attention to girls. I’m always tripping over them, or on them,” I huffed. “Or tripping them,” I added.
“Come on, everyone knows you’re a klutz.”
Thank you very much.
“Girls don’t care though, Tristen. You really should pay more attention to them. And I’m not talking about the new girl…” She waited for my response.
After receiving nothing she cleared her throat. “You know, maybe the ones that are crushing. They’re beginning to hate you. Or hate me, one or the other.”
“I don’t think anyone could hate you. You’re too nice,” I commented, still distracted by Isolda talking to Mr. Becker at the front of the class.
“Oh, come on Tristen. At least let them know you’re not gay,” she said, ignoring the part about her being too nice. That got my attention.
“What?”
“I think a few are beginning to wonder.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
She looked at me. “Okay, maybe not gay. But you’re not very good at this kind of stuff and I’m trying to help you. Like with Piper.”
“What do you mean?”
She rambled on, but I had stopped paying attention, as Isolda was walking down the aisle toward me. Mr. Becker had indicated the empty seat behind our table. She smiled at me as she passed us.
“Hello? Earth to Tristen.” Ailey intruded as my imagination was creating a fantasy of Isolda and me frolicking in the field behind my house. “Well, maybe you should ask her out,” she said, nodding at Isolda. “Maybe she’s interested. Of course, after you talk to Piper.”
What is she saying about Piper?
“I don’t know…” I began to object. “I really don’t think she thinks of me that way.”
“Isolda Margaret, you can work with Tristen Michael and Ailey Katherine on their project since there is no one without a partner.”
What did he say? With us?
“Oh, it’s just Isolda,” she tried to object, but Mr. Becker ignored her.
“Yeah,” Ailey cut in. “And my name is just Ailey.”
Mr. Becker smiled and turned his back to walk toward the whiteboard, humming ‘Yellow Submarine’ as he pulled out his coin and began to roll it over his knuckles. Ailey just grinned and rolled her eyes.
“After the lecture we’re going to have a pop quiz…” he continued.
I didn’t hear a word Mr. Becker said because my head was on cloud nine as soon as I heard our names together. Now we would have to spend time together. Our grade depended on it. We would be in the library together. She could come to my house and I would have a reason to call her. My thoughts went on and on until Ailey elbowed me in the ribs.
“Get a grip!”
I looked up to see Mr. Becker passing out the pop quiz. I had somehow completely missed the whole class. He stopped when he reached my table.
“Tristen, please remember that you are in a history class and not in a social club. I wouldn’t want you to fail because that might affect your future standing in the HSLCF,” he murmured out of the corner of his mouth.
What on earth is the HSLCF?
I went on to think about Isolda as I whizzed through the quiz. I wanted her to finish quickly so I could talk to her more. Maybe having Ailey there would help me not look like such a dork.
“I hate you,” Ailey whispered as I got up to turn in my quiz. It was my turn to smirk as I turned it in and I peeked to see how Isolda was doing. She was progressing slowly, twirling her blonde hair around and around her finger, stumped on a few ques
tions. The bell finally rang and Isolda still had her quiz out. She brought her quiz to Mr. Becker for help and Ailey and I slowly gathered our books to leave.
Ailey pulled at my elbow. “Come on. We can talk to her later. She’s not going anywhere; you’ll probably have her in another one of your classes.”
Unfortunately, I was disappointed the rest of the day.
❦
Isolda made friends easily, including plenty of admirers. Ailey, Brooks, Isolda and I all met after school for our project; it was getting closer to the due date. Isolda was assigned to put together our research and write it out and she effortlessly adapted to our group.
I learned a lot about her as I casually paid attention to the small things she did every day; she would bite on the corner of her lip when she was trying to hold back her excitement. She was very upbeat. She would always point out the positive side of things. The slightest touch from her would send zings up my spine; she would lay her hand on my shoulder when she was laughing hard or kick my feet when she found new information for our project.
I would sometimes notice her stare out the window, lost in thought. During these times I could see that she was in her own world, completely oblivious to us, and I couldn’t imagine the place she had gone off to. Sometimes she even seemed a little sad. She wore a ring every day on her middle finger—an elephant with blue and red stones. When she was in a sad mood she would twist the ring around and around her finger. During those times I craved to know what she was thinking, to be there in her mind and to see what she saw.
❦
I tried to distract myself from the new girl who threatened to occupy my every thought, so I delved into my school assignments. However, the deeper I focused on my books, the stronger and more realistic my dreams became. Sometimes, they were the same ones I’d had previously: the century-old dreams, with barns on fire and the couple walking along a path or working in a garden.
One night, I dreamed of the same man riding swiftly on a horse. He wore a strange uniform and charged ahead. His blue eyes were wild, filled with terror and yet he was focused, riding to some unknown location. He was resolute, intent on getting to his destination. All around him there was a lot of fighting. The smell of rotted food and burning hay made my nose curl.
He stopped and approached a man, yelling furiously. They began to fight while two younger women protested in the background. I woke up from that dream with a torn piece of cotton material in my fist. These dreams were getting so real. Unsettled and incredulous, I tucked the material in between my mattress to consider at a later time.
Most times, they revolved around the dark-haired girl playing with a stick in a meadow. She used it like a sword, fighting imaginary creatures and boogeymen. She talked to herself and fought quite courageously, always triumphing over evil. I wondered who she was and where she lived. Was she a real person? I had seen her death on more than one occasion, her mother weeping at her side in the barn and her sadness threatened to swallow me. I was getting better at waking myself from these dreams; especially the ones that frightened me. They always seemed so real but I had learned to force myself to question: How realistic is this? Do I really live in this world? Sometimes I could force myself to realize that it was a dream and try to wake myself up. Occasionally it worked.
❦
I usually floated tables during lunch, eating with different people every day. I never noticed that Piper ate lunch the same time as me until she suddenly appeared at my lunch table. Surprised, I looked up at her and she smiled down at me. Her face was red and she pulled at a strand of her strawberry blonde hair and twisted it around her finger repeatedly.
“Hey,” she said.
“Hi,” I responded. “How are you?”
“I’m good.” She sat down across from me. “Hey, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out after school today?” she asked shyly.
I thought about it. “Sure,” I replied. “What do you want to do?”
She hesitated, thinking. “I don’t know. Maybe we could go for a walk? Or I can drive you home.”
Man, that’s embarrassing. I really need my own car.
“Ummm, sure. I’m sure we can think of something to do.”
She grinned and I smiled back at her.
“Well.” She pushed her chair back and it scraped the floor. “Okay, well, I’ll see you out by the parking lot.”
“Yeah, sure. Okay,” I said.
She started walking back toward her friends then scurried faster and jumped back into her seat. Giggling ensued and I turned back to my lunch.
I don’t think I’ll ever understand girls.
❦
That afternoon, when I was waiting in the parking lot, I heard a girl call my name.
“Hey, wait up!”
I turned, thinking it would be Piper, but it was Ailey running to catch up to me. Brooks was walking away toward his car; his keys were jiggling in his hand.
“Hey, Ailey. How’s it going?”
“Good. Hold on a sec.” She stopped, breathing hard and holding her ribs. “Sorry, I have a side stitch.” I waited patiently for her to catch her breath. The air around us was magnetized and all my other thoughts fell away.
After she caught her breath, she smiled at me.
“Hey, can we talk for a minute?”
“Sure.”
She walked off toward an empty part of the parking lot and sat down on the curb. She looked up at me and squinted at the sun behind me.
I sat down. Again, I immediately wanted to scoot closer. This time, I did.
She sat thinking for a minute before she began.
“Tristen. I’m not sure what is going on between us. I mean, that sounds funny, I don’t mean it that way. I don’t know how to say this. If I… if…” She struggled to explain. “I want to know how you feel… about me. No, no. Wait, wait. That’s not what I wanted to say.” She took a deep breath and started over. “I just wanted to tell you how I feel about you. And I don’t know why I want to tell you this, but I just feel like I have to tell you.”
I inhaled, waiting.
“There is just something about you. I don’t know how to explain it, but I just really like you a lot. It’s like… it’s like I can’t stay away from you. Like my mind is pulled toward you; I can’t help it. And it’s different than Brooks. I like Brooks like a boyfriend and… and I’m attracted to him, very attracted to him, and I love being with him. But the way I feel about you is not like that. It’s different. It’s like we’re connected somehow. And I don’t know how, but I imagine this string that runs from my brain to yours, no matter where you are in the room, or even if I’m far away. When you’re close, it pulls and tugs on my brain and I can’t help but want to look at and talk to you.”
She stopped short and looked embarrassed.
“And well, I wanted to know…if you felt…well, if you wanted to tell me anything similar.”
How I felt? A deep sense of relief flowed out of me. All the questions and insecurities I had just washed away.
“I know,” I stopped, unsure what to say next. “I mean, I know what you mean.” I tried again.
“You do?”
“Yeah, I do.”
She looked at me expectantly. Ailey was normally so confident and now she seemed so unsure. Was that even possible?
“Okay, yes, I do cuz I feel…” I didn’t want to say it for fear she might think I was crazy, even though she had just said the same words I was thinking. I looked at her and the intensity of her eyes drew me in.
“I feel the same way you do. I love being around you, too. I just… it’s like a magnet for me. That’s the only way I can explain it.”
Strangely, I didn’t feel crazy, it felt… well, it felt right. Like it shouldn’t be so strange. When I was around her I just felt like I belonged. Like I was back home from a long trip that I didn’t even realize that I was on. It was relieving actually. At school there wasn’t really a place where I felt like I belonged: I wasn’t a jock, or
good at acting or math, and I didn’t even fit in with the rebels, who accepted anybody. Sitting here, with her, I felt like there was somewhere I belonged; with her. I belonged with her. It just felt right. “I mean, I am just drawn to you, too. You just always seem to be in the back of my mind, no matter what I’m doing,” I continued. “Sounds crazy, right?” I asked.
She grinned. “Well, that would make two of us.”
We smiled, beaming at each other.
“What does Brooks think…I mean does he know? I don’t want to step on his toes.”
“Well, I just talked to him about it. He’s cool with it. I mean, he doesn’t really understand, but he’s cool with it. He feels…” she struggled to find the right word, “…secure enough in our relationship.”
Ailey looked back to where Brooks had driven off and said, almost as an afterthought, “He’s a good guy. He’s so understanding and patient about things; things that even I can’t understand.”
We stood up. I felt light and buoyant, like I had float rings around my arms lifting me higher and higher. We walked back toward her car and my bike, arms linked together.
She turned to me. “Do you want a ride home?”
I stopped to consider. “What would we do with my bike? I don’t think it will fit in your car.”
She smiled. “You’d be surprised what will fit in the back of my car. Besides, I can put the back seats down. Don’t worry, it’ll fit.”
“All right, sure.”
I walked off to bring my bike over to her car. When I returned, she already had her trunk open and the back seats folded down flat. She was right; my bike fit easily, although it was a bit cumbersome with the petals.
“Once, Brooks’s lawnmower broke, so we put mine in here and brought it over to his house. He wanted to finish before baseball practice. I couldn’t believe it fit.” She smiled, remembering. “So, Tristen, what do you think about asking Isolda out on a date?”
Suddenly my happiness took a nosedive. Into a pool of butterflies and worms.
Reading me, she replied, “Why not? You guys have fun together at school, why not outside of school?”
“I don’t think it’s the same. Besides, she has a very active social life already.” Very active. With other boys.
The Last Seeker: Book 1: a teen & YA magical, fantasy, paranormal, & adventure novel (TRISTEN) Page 5
