The Ocean

by Mia Castile

  “Is she cute?” she asked bluntly.

  “Yes, she’s very cute and in my grade. And I real y like her. Are you happy now?” I sighed, with my foot on the next stair, ready to make my escape at any moment.

  “Sweetie, I’m only happy if you are happy, so please be happy. I don’t want you moping around the house anymore. Jil real y hurt you, and I just want you to find another nice girl like her.” I’d never had the heart to tel Mom who Jil real y was. Al she knew was that I no longer liked or wanted to be with her.

  “I know, Mom, but homework now.” I patted my bag.

  “Go on; I’l see you in the morning. Set your clock for earlier please; you almost made us late, too.” She chuckled and went back to their show where someone had just gotten spaghetti dumped on his head. Turning, I shook my head and climbed the stairs to my room. That never happened in real life.

  I sat my stuff at the side of my desk. As I slumped in my chair, I pul ed out my homework. I did it as fast as I could and as focused as my brain would al ow. I stil saw her standing by her locker looking cool, and calm—and the smile on her face when she saw me.

  I final y finished my homework close to ten. The note in my pocket felt as if it must have burned through to my bone. It hurt me. I was dying to read it. I went to my laptop and quickly made a play list adding Digital Underground to the list from the iStore. She’d had that album, too. I synced my iPod and dug out the note. I put my iPod on the keyboard while I waited and stared at it, flipping the note between my fingers. It stared at me, too, taking its time while the circle chased its tail, tel ing me that I couldn’t unplug it yet. Final y, when it was synced, I went to my bed across the room and lay across it sideways. I put my iPod in my clock radio and hit play on the play list that said “GIA.” Tu-Pac’s “Changes” played. I final y al owed myself to read the note.

  Travis,

  Thank you for the note; I appreciate your thoughtfulness. You are very sweet. Thank you also for the invitation for Friday night. I will be at the game for Alex, and I’d like to go do something with you too. My mom always told me that I could date when I was sixteen, but Oliver hasn’t said what the rules are. I’m not sure if he even knows what they are. We all kind of avoid each other. I’m still mourning my mother and trying to adjust to this new place. I don’t know how fair it is to be happy here. It holds a lot of bad memories for Alex and me. When I think of you, I am scared too. I think it’s the good kind; it’s the scared that makes my heart race and my palms sweaty. I can’t really say much more, but I can say that I like your smile and your eyes. And now you’ll probably get into trouble for reading this note in class, so I’ll close. See you soon.

  -Gia

  I read the note again immediately after I finished it. She liked my smile and my eyes. I could go on about the things I liked about her, but I wouldn’t do that. I grabbed my spiral notebook and began to write her another note. I’d put it in her locker in the morning, but a couple lines in, I paused. She was sad. Her mom obviously meant a lot to her. I rol ed on my back once more and read the note. I could move slowly. Was that what she was tel ing me? That she wanted to take things slow? I thought I could do that. I continued to write.

  Gia,

  I’m sorry that you had something so terrible happen to your family. I know a little bit about loss. My father left my mom weeks before my sister was born. I was only eight at the time, but I clearly remember that one day he was there and the next day he was gone. My mom cried a lot at first, but she just kept saying it was better this way. I had a hard time believing her though.

  I hope you don’t feel helpless. Just so you know, I’m a really good listener. I don’t really know why I’m telling you all of this, maybe because I want you to know me. I don’t know.

  For the record though, there are so many things that I like about you. I like your hair, it reminds me of the sun, as it sets in the sky with the brilliant colors of red, purple and gray. Not that I think you’re purple although that would be a pretty color on you; but you remind me of the most beautiful part of the day. And I like your eyes. They are so expressive. They draw me into them. Though I’m in a hurry to get to know you, I’m not in a hurry to push you into a relationship. I can be patient. I will be patient if that’s what you want. Talk to you soon.

  -Travis

  I changed to some pajama pants, preparing to go to bed. I lay down but was almost immediately up again, too wired to sleep. I paced my floor tossing a footbal in my hands. I wanted to hear her, to see her, to touch her. These thoughts were not taking it slow. I settled for sending her a text.

  U still up?

  My phone beeped seconds later.

  Yes what’s up?

  Just read ur note. Thanx.

  U started it. I liked urs 2.

  It’s wrong to say but miss u.

  There was a pause of four minutes before the next message came. I went too far I suddenly feared.

  Me 2. go 2 bed.

  I almost heard her giggling.

  In bed. U go 2 bed.

  Was asleep u woke me up.

  Oops, now I felt bad. But immediately another text came across from her.

  Did I make u feel bad I’m j/k lol.

  Tease.

  I smiled.

  Nah. Not a game player.

  Good! Had enough of that.

  See you in the am?

  Definitely.

  I set the phone down next to my bed and slowly drifted off to sleep. The next thing I knew was my alarm going off, thirty minutes earlier than the day before. I hit the snooze but rol ed over on my back and stared at the ceiling. She liked my smile, she liked my eyes, and she missed me when I wasn’t there. I went to the bathroom to get ready for school. I picked out a pair of new jeans that my mom said made my butt look good. It was embarrassing enough coming from my mom, and I also felt like a girl for picking them to wear today because of that reason. I got a t-shirt and put my sneakers on. I fixed my hair twice in the mirror. I was ready. I was more nervous than the day before. I went to the kitchen, had a decent breakfast of Cap’n Crunch, and was out the door on time.

  I looked for the big green truck from the early nineties and parked close to it. I assumed they were already inside. I had ten minutes before the warning bel . I approached the front door and there she was, sitting on the stoop reviewing note cards. Her hair fel in loose curls around her face and over her shoulders. She wore some old-looking flare jeans that had holes in the knees, grey sneakers, and a snug black V-neck t-shirt. It came down pretty low. My eyes lingered there long enough to make me think about touching her skin. She looked up mouthing “te quiero” as she saw me.

  I suddenly couldn’t take my eyes off her lips. I froze in place as someone knocked into my shoulder. I didn’t see or care who it was. She smiled, laughing at me. I smiled back embarrassed. I walked over to her; she stood and put the cards in her bag.

  “Good morning.” She smiled stil as she threw her bag over her shoulder, and we went inside together.

  “Good morning. Did you sleep wel ?”

  “I did. Did you?”

  “I did. Before I forget, here.” I slid my note into her back pocket. It was just an excuse to touch her. Then I leaned in and whispered in her ear. “Don’t get caught with that; it’s top secret.” She shook her head OK, playing along with a serious face. We were at our lockers now. She went to hers and began unloading her stuff. I did the same. I knew I had only a few minutes, and I didn’t want to have to run again.

  “See you at lunch?” I smiled and waved.

  “Definitely.” She smiled. I thought of our textversation from the night before. She must have, too. I turned and went up to my chemistry class, very pleased with the start of my day.

  “You never wrote me notes.” I was trying to ignore Jil ian who hadn’t shut up since I got to class.

  “Every relationship is different,” I said under my breath as I tried to keep up with the scribble Mr. Jackson was writing on the board.

&n
bsp; “You are not in a relationship with her; you don’t even know her. You just met her yesterday. Besides she looks like a Gothic wannabe. Her hair isn’t even black, but that’s al the freak wears.” She almost spit the words at me.

  “I wil be with whoever I want to be with. You wil leave me alone or I’l …” I had turned to face her now.

  “You’l what?” She smiled evil y.

  “Just leave us alone.”

  “You’l see. You and me.” She pointed her finger from her to me and back. “We’re meant to be.” She went back to her notes and left me alone the rest of the class. I thought about going to Mr. Jackson after class and asking if I could switch partners, keeping her far away from me, but then I felt pansyish. I’d made my position clear; hopeful y, that was enough.

  I didn’t see Gia again until we met at our lockers for lunch. Abby was right behind us. We walked to the cafeteria together as the girls chattered. I kept brushing her hand with mine. It was al I was thinking about. I didn’t want to push her, but I wanted to hold her hand. She looked up at me quizzical y as our hands brushed again. I was about to take a chance and reach for her hand when I felt a slap sting my back. I winced.

  “Dude, are you gonna pay attention at practice today? No more fumbles,” chastised Chiz, our ever-motivating team captain.

  “I didn’t drop the bal ,” I insisted, trying to wiggle out of his hand now on my shoulder holding me in what looked like a friendly hold, but was anything but.

  “Whatever, man.” But he kept his hand there. We got into line, got our food, and paid for it. Then we went toward the same table as yesterday, off to the side. Chiz looked torn, like he wanted to sit with us, but that it might hurt his rep. He final y chose the table at the center of the room. Alex and Mason were already sitting at our table. Kiarah joined us too, sitting by Alex across from Gia and me.

  “Wicked ring.” Kiarah pointed to Gia’s ring.

  “Thanks; it was my mother’s.” She shared a glance with Alex and moved her hand down to her lap. Kiarah continued the conversation she had been having with Alex.

  “That is why I feel so strongly about it. I just can’t eat something with a face. It’d be like eating you. I couldn’t do that to you.” She batted her eyes at him, and he melted. Girls didn’t realize the power they had over us.

  Gia passed me a note under the table. On the fold it said, “After speech.” She didn’t want me to read it in front of her. As hard as it would be, I would do as she asked. I nodded and put it into my back pocket. Maybe I couldn’t hold her hand, but I could put my arm around her chair. She was leaning forward, suddenly engrossed in the conversation. Abby was stating that though she wasn’t a vegetarian, she could definitely see the benefits and was listing them. I leaned back and put my arm around her chair. Mason looked at me with a raised eyebrow.

  “I had a friend in Fishers, Alex. Remember Gracie? Al she ate was meat. She refused to eat vegetables of any kind for a year,” Gia giggled.

  “Yeah, and as I recal , she gained ten pounds that year before she final y went off her meat-a-tarian diet,” Alex chuckled.

  “Yeah, wasn’t her best idea.” We al laughed.

  “Heads up!” Mason said, as he did the opposite and looked down at his food.

  “Dude, Brandon just said his parents are going away for the weekend. We’re gonna party at his house after the game. Let everyone know!” Chiz stood over our table and paused at the last statement as he surveyed Abby and Kiarah.

  “I’l go ahead and respectful y decline,” Abby stated, holding Chiz’s uncomfortable eye contact.

  “Yeah, I have an art showing.” Kiarah turned to Alex. “I was hoping you could make it even if it’s after the game.” He was putty in her hands and nodded his agreement.

  “We’l see,” Mason added.

  “Our first date,” I chimed in, as I pointed to Gia and myself, which earned me a glare from him.

  “No wonder you guys are sitting over here.” Chiz turned and stomped off, much like Jil ian sometimes did. I smiled to myself.

  “Respectful y decline, huh? What’s so important that you don’t want to party it up with The Chiz?” Mason was leaned into Abby across the table. I would say her level of hotness had dramatical y gone up over the summer. Getting rid of the glasses and getting her braces off had definitely improved her looks. Then there were the streaks in her hair, and she’d final y come into her own gypsy style.

  “I’m washing my hair,” she replied, not even paying attention to him. More cool points.

  “Wel , that is very important because that hair is a masterpiece.” I cringed for him. She rol ed her eyes. I looked over at Gia and wondered if I sounded that cheesy to her. She caught my glance and smiled at me. We heard the first bel tel ing us lunch was over. I walked Gia back to our lockers and then to speech. We took our assigned seats, and she sat sideways as we waited for class to start.

  “Did you get snow in Indiana?” Britney Langley asked her, also sitting sideways.

  “Yeah, we’d get a few inches every year. It got real y cold. The ice is worse than the snow.” She smiled politely.

  “Did you ever go to a Colts game?” a boy across the room asked. I thought his name was Bryan. He was the editor of the school paper.

  “Yeah, my step-dad’s law firm had a suite, so we went to a few games. I have a picture with Peyton Manning on my phone if you want to see.”

  “Yeah!” A few kids crowded her as she flipped through the pictures and then showed it proudly to them. It was her in a Colts jersey and jeans, her hair pul ed up in blue and white ribbons in a ponytail with wispy curls around her face. Her brother was in a jersey and jeans also, along with a woman slightly tal er than her, but a ghost of her. It could have been Gia in twenty years. They were smiling with Peyton Manning’s arms around them.

  “That’s real y cool,” Bryan said.

  “Yeah, it was a fun night.”

  “OK, guys, today we’re going to talk about basic techniques when giving speeches and how to address the audience,” Mr. Franklin began, as he entered the room with a stack of books. I assumed they were for dramatic effect. Everyone took their seats, and Gia smiled nervously at me before she turned around. I wondered what that was about.

  I leaned forward to take notes, but couldn’t resist staring at the back of her head. She leaned forward and sat back nervously about halfway through the class. Final y, she passed me a note, and I realized she’d been trying to get my attention with her movement.

  I don’t like sitting in front of you.

  Why not? I passed the note back to her.

  Because I can’t see what you’re doing. You’re making me nervous.

  Don’t worry I’m just staring at the back of your head.

  Exactly. Stop!

  I chuckled and heard her snicker when she heard me laugh.

  Can’t help it. What do you do to your hair to make it such a “masterpiece”?

  Lame.

  I try.

  Well you should try harder.

  OK, redo: don’t worry, I’m just waiting for this class to be over so I can read your note about five times and write you a response that will blow your mind.

  I heard a slight gasp escape when she read it.

  Better.

  Can I read your note now?

  No.

  Please?

  No.

  You’re so demanding.

  You might understand when you read it.

  Fine, and honestly, thanks.

  For what?

  For writing me a note and distracting me from the back of your head.

  Har, har, har. You’re welcome.

  “Bryan, would you like to demonstrate this technique?” I looked up suddenly. I’d missed the lecture. Bryan went forward. Mr. Franklin handed him a paper. He stepped to the podium and read the statement.

  “Very good. Now what could he have done to improve the speech? I wil only accept positive constructive criticism. If you are hurtful, or negat
ive, then you wil go next, and only negative criticism wil be given from the class.” He raised his eyebrows to the class. The class cheerful y encouraged him to speak up, and to use his hands more. The bel rang.

  “Tomorrow I want to start talking about our first real speech assignment and—” We were out of the class. I was walking so close to her. Again, I just had to reach over a little bit and touch her hand. I could just hold a finger. Our pinkies could touch.

  “Gia?” Not again, I thought. We’d have to find another way to her next class. Gia turned to see Jil ian waving at us.

  “Please, no,” she said under her breath.

  “Hi, I’m Jil ian, head cheerleader.” Flip of the hair. “I didn’t get a chance to welcome you to our wonderful school yesterday. Did you even attend yesterday?” She smiled a syrupy sweet smile.

  “I was here yesterday; Travis introduced us, remember?” Her voice was equal y syrupy sweet.

  “I don’t remember. I’m sorry.” Tilt of the head, fake confusion.

  “Wel , it was nice talking to you, but we’re going to be late.” She turned and took my hand. I pul ed her away from the daggers shooting from Jil ‘s eyes. I was holding her hand! I’d wanted to hold her hand al day, and now I was holding her hand.

  “Is this OK?” She raised our hands.

  “Completely.”

  I said goodbye to her at the doorway to her free period classroom and turned to go to my class. I made it to my class and found my seat. I didn’t listen to the teacher’s lecture; I just read her note over and over.

  Travis,

  Thank you for sharing with me. It does make me feel a little better to know that I’m not going through this alone. I’m sure there are a lot of other kids who have lost their parents, other kids who might even be in worse situations than what I am now. Sometimes life isn’t fair. Before my mom died, I enjoyed being the center of attention. I became a little spoiled. After she got sick, though, I felt guilty. Because I became so comfortable in our life and our home, I took it for granted. I didn’t appreciate my mom all the time. One time a few years ago, we fought in a department store because I wanted her to spend two hundred dollars on a pair of old-looking ripped up jeans. I told her that she was selfish, didn’t want me to be happy, and was a horrible mother. I instantly regretted it. I apologized, but something changed. The next day when I got home from my music classes, the jeans were lying on my bed. I’m actually wearing them today. I kept them because I didn’t want to forget how I made her feel. I didn’t want to ever risk taking someone that I care so deeply about for granted. I don’t really know why I’m unloading like this; I think it’s special that you and I can share these personal things.