by Rachel Auld
Her eyes flew to my face, eyebrows raised. “Oh, I don't know,” she began.
I shook my head. “No, no, it's okay. I just feel a little behind at the moment, but I don't want to drop the AP class if I can help it. I could use a leg up when I get to college,” I said, not wanting her to think I was trying to take advantage of her in some way.
She nodded. “I know what you mean. If you want to stop here with your calculus homework after school sometime, I'll help you when you need it,” she relented. “My class is only once a week so I try to get as much of my homework done as I can while I'm watching the store.”
I wanted to whoop for joy but settled for a grateful smile. “That'd be awesome, Sara, thank you!” She seemed almost embarrassed by my thanks but the faint blush that highlighted her delicate cheekbones drew me like a moth to a flame. Smart, beautiful—how on earth had this girl earned a nickname like Ice Princess?
Figuring I ought to leave on a high note before putting my foot in my mouth and ruining whatever impression I'd made, I smiled again and headed out with a promise to come by the store with our next calculus assignment. She gave a small wave and turned back to her math problems, the curtain of strawberry golden curls not quite obscuring the shy smile that lingered on her face as I turned away.
So you didn't secure an actual date or a vow of undying love, but by my estimation, that didn't go half as badly as it could have, I told myself, unable to wipe the grin off my face as I trotted down Main Street toward our house. Not bad at all!
CHAPTER 3: Thursday Night
Family dinners in my house range from informal to nonexistent, a fact for which I was extremely grateful that evening. My mom's eyes were a little too keen for my taste right now; she'd be all over me about Sara if she caught even a glimpse of my face. I disappeared into my room to do homework and reflect on every nuance of every expression in my conversation with Sara. I felt fairly certain I hadn't blown it yet, but the niggling doubt that perhaps she just felt sorry for me wouldn't be silenced.
Nelson sent several text messages over the course of the evening, but I waited until I had nothing left to keep me from responding before sending back a few brief replies. I grinned when my phone buzzed again several times in quick succession.
Went FINE? WTF does that mean?
Tutoring??
Are you sure you went in the right bookstore???
I spent a minute composing my thoughts in order to answer his many questions. Carried on intelligent conversation. She agreed to help me with Calc. Doubt other local bookstores employ such gorgeous redheads.
His response came almost instantly. Holy. Shit. You DA MAN.
I laughed to myself and texted back a quick goodnight before heading downstairs to grab something to eat. I could hear my mom singing along with the radio from her studio in the sunroom at the back of the house. Dad had already said he'd be late getting back from the city where he'd gone to shoot photos for his latest piece. I'd learned pretty early on to be self-sufficient if I wanted to eat at regular intervals; it wasn't that my parents were neglectful, they were just more concerned with catching a particular angle of sunlight than with ensuring meals happened at an assigned time every day.
Nelson had been stoked to learn I knew how to cook, convinced that was the greatest chick magnet a guy could hope to possess. I wondered now if that were true, making a mental note to casually mention my prowess in the kitchen the next time I saw Sara.
The fridge and cupboards were painfully bare, however, so I settled for a big bowl of cereal. I started jotting down a shopping list, figuring I could swing by the store on my way home tomorrow. It was Thursday and my calculus teacher had told us he'd be gone this Friday—rumor had it he liked to go camping on the weekends and tried to get an early start when the weather held—which meant no calculus homework for the weekend. It seemed unlikely that I'd come up with a plausible excuse to see Sara before next week, so I might as well be productive.
It was still early, by my usual standard, but I felt exhausted after all the emotional energy I'd expended analyzing my time with Sara. I felt reasonably calm and doubted my mom would sense anything amiss at this point, so I popped my head into the sunroom to say goodnight.
“Hey Mom, I'm heading to bed. I'll pick up some groceries after school tomorrow, so write down anything else you want me to grab on the list,” I called, raising my voice to be heard over the pop music on the radio.
She wore a shapeless canvas smock over her clothes and glanced over her shoulder to smile at me. “Sleep well, honey. Grocery money's in the jar, take what you need.” She turned back to study the wall-sized canvas before her, depicting a luscious landscape. Fall in New York would be an incredible source of inspiration for her, I could see.
“By the way,” I said, turning down the volume on the stereo so I could speak normally, “you should check out the book shop on Main Street. Seriously cool architecture, stained glass window, incredible light. You'll love it.”
I've always been told I have my mother's eyes and, not for the first time, I realized the depth of the compliment when her face lit up, dark eyes aglow with the prospect of something new to marvel at. “Wonderful!” she said, blowing me a kiss. “I'll check it out. Goodnight, pumpkin!”
I rolled my eyes at the endearment and headed upstairs as she went back to her painting. I shut my bedroom door, turned on some music and flopped back onto my bed. I've never considered myself a hopeless romantic, but the events of the past two days felt like Destiny had come knocking. Back in California, a couple moves ago, I had a girlfriend for a few weeks of freshman year. I suspected she'd been dared to ask me to a dance and neither of us were saddened when she moved on. It wasn't that I wasn't interested in dating, or even that I was afraid of getting attached before another inevitable move to a new place. It was simply that the girls I was most attracted to seemed like really expensive guitars: light years out of my league, worthy of my worship and appreciation from afar, but always out of reach.
“Sara,” I breathed, savoring the sound of her name on my lips. That moment in the diner when I first set eyes on her felt like lightning striking, leaving an indelible mark on my soul. I didn't believe in love at first sight, but having grown up with two hippies who stressed the importance of trusting intuition, I felt that Fate had surely had a hand in seating me by that particular window in the diner that day and in leading her to pass by at just the right moment. At least, Fate seemed a lot stronger and more meaningful than Coincidence, and it made no difference what had led us both to that particular moment. It had happened and that was what mattered.
I folded my hands behind my head and fell asleep with visions of blue-green eyes and strawberry lips dancing behind my eyelids.
CHAPTER 4: Friday Morning
Friday morning passed with infinite slowness. My only truly challenging class was Calculus and since Mr. Hall had taken the day off, that turned into a study hall. I got most of the weekend's homework finished and when the bell rang, I headed to the cafeteria, steeling myself to dodge Nelson's questions. Nothing's happened, I reminded myself. Yet, I added, to appease my unwarranted disappointment with the admission.
Nelson was seated at our usual table along the outer edge of the cafeteria. I preferred it for its proximity to the windows, which overlooked a stretch of lawn leading to thick woods at the far edge. Nelson had chosen it, he said, because he could keep an eye on everything that went down in the cafeteria from this corner. Not much had happened so far that deserved his interest, but he seemed confident that the situation was only temporary.
He had a strange reputation at this school, my new friend. Despite his size, he didn't participate in any sports. He wasn't part of any particular group, but he wasn't an outcast by any means. I thought now about how he'd described Sara's relationships with the kids at school, realizing it fit him to a T as well. I wondered how keenly he felt her absence from his life, which led to wondering exactly what had happened between them following her fath
er's death.
“Spill,” he commanded around a mouthful of mystery meat as I sat down at the table with my tray.
I rolled my eyes at him. “I told you what happened already.” I'd settled for mac and cheese, mashed potatoes and a bowl of corn, quickly shoving a spoonful of potatoes into my mouth to stave off further questions.
Nelson set down his fork and leaned across the table, his expression serious for once. “This isn't girl talk, Travis. For the majority of my life, Sara has been like a sister to me, all right? She might not tell me what's happening in her life anymore, but you can bet your ass I'm going to find out one way or another.”
I sat back with a sigh and gave in. After all, he was my only friend in town and I felt like nothing had been said in confidence during my brief encounter with Sara yesterday. I told him everything in as much detail as possible without making me sound like a hopeless moron. He listened with interest, shaking his head in disbelief at times, until the very end.
“Damn, Trav. I don't know what voodoo you've got working for you, but you have accomplished the impossible,” he said, looking impressed but slightly puzzled when I told him what she'd said about a friend of his being a friend of hers.
Normally, I'm not one for probing personal questions, but the curiosity was killing me. “I understand if you don't want to talk about it, man, but what happened? I mean, if you guys were so close before her dad died, how did that just evaporate?” I asked quietly.
Nelson blew out a long, weary breath. “The accident . . . there were kids involved. A bunch of guys got drunk and decided to go for a little joy ride. They T-boned Mr. Matthews' car when they ran a red light. The driver was a senior named Teddy Hallowell. His brother Jay was a friend of mine and was in the car that night.” He paused, his face full of regret. “Sara hated him,” he said quietly. “Sara Matthews, who could make friends with anyone and everyone, hated his guts and told me I was an idiot for hanging out with him. He was a year ahead of us in school and I never found out why she felt that way about him, even before the accident.”
I was silent for a moment before he looked up and saw the question in my eyes. “I wasn't there,” he said quickly. “I had nothing to do with the accident, but Sara knew who was involved. She wouldn't say anything, especially when her mom insisted it stay as quiet as possible. Mrs. Matthews is the most goddamn forgiving person on the planet. She pleaded for leniency for Teddy at the trial, saying it was what Mr. Matthews would have wanted, and she tried to keep the names of the minors out of the press. Even if Sara didn't agree with her, she never mentioned any names. I knew, though, from the way she looked at me at the funeral. Rumors flew around town at warp speed and the second I heard his name whispered, I knew that was why. Teddy was already eighteen and tried as an adult. He's in prison now, serving a five year sentence.”
Five years didn’t seem like it could possibly make up for Sara losing a parent at such a young age. “It wasn't your fault,” I said, confused as to why the accident had led to their estrangement.
His lips curved in a sad smile. “No, but she felt it was hers. She'd heard about the guys and their little get together that night and bullied me into skipping it. After the accident, I think she felt like if she hadn't convinced me to stay home, I would've been there to talk some sense into them. She knew the joy ride wasn't something I ever would have gone along with, not with any of those guys at the wheel.”
I sucked in a breath. Beautiful, intelligent, tragic. Of course I was attracted to her.
Nelson was proving to be quite the mind reader because when I opened my mouth to speak, he clapped a hand on my shoulder. “She's practically been a shut-in since the accident, Trav, but if you can break through that shell . . .” He trailed off, then looked me straight in the eye. “She needs a friend. Be good to her, okay?”
“Of course,” I readily agreed. “Thank you for telling me, man. I have a tendency toward foot-in-mouth syndrome and anything that helps me not make a total ass of myself in front of her is incredibly helpful,” I said with a grin.
Nelson grinned back, looking beyond relieved to be done with that conversation, and we moved on to our usual topics: music, gadgets, and video games.
Beautiful, intelligent, tragic. The words bounced around in my head, taunting me. Was I up for this kind of challenge?
I sure hoped so.
CHAPTER 5: Friday Afternoon
By the end of school, I felt more ready for the weekend than ever, though I had nothing planned and figured I'd have to wait for an actual calculus assignment before I had an excuse to see Sara again. I stopped at the town's little grocery store on my way home, pulling out my list and trying to drum up a mental map of the store so I didn't waste an hour wandering back and forth between the aisles. I headed first to the produce section, grabbing the variety of fruits and vegetables my mom had added to the list, but when I got to the bin of avocados, I stopped short. For the life of me, I couldn't remember what constitutes a decent avocado.
I'd been staring at them for probably two full minutes before a voice from behind me said, “I've heard that if you concentrate hard enough, they'll eventually explode, but I've never actually seen anyone so close to succeeding.”
A grin lit my face as I turned to see Sara standing there, looking utterly adorable in ripped jeans and a purple sparkly tee shirt. She wore flip flops and had a canvas grocery bag over one shoulder. Her hair was pulled up today into a curly bun, exposing a long, graceful neck that I hadn't been able to fully appreciate before. Wispy tendrils framed her heart-shaped face and I'm fairly certain I stood there like a loon for an uncomfortably long time before I had the presence of mind to say, “Hey!”
She seemed to find me entertaining, if not ridiculously attractive, and she laughed. “Hey yourself,” she said, nodding toward the avocado display. “How many do you need?”
I consulted my list. “Four, it would seem.”
Sara nudged me out of the way with her shoulder and picked four avocados, dropping them into a produce bag before adding them to my cart. “You not only encourage your parents to chase their dreams even when it means changing schools for senior year, you also do the grocery shopping?” she asked, cocking a fair eyebrow at me.
I gave a slight bow. “I am a true Renaissance man, I assure you,” I told her in a serious voice, then laughed as I grabbed a bag of apples from the next display. “Unfortunately, I didn't have time to study my Everyday Guide to Choosing Produce this morning before school.”
She laughed, a sound so sweet I had the insane urge to record it. Since that seemed to fall on the super creepy side of things, I determined that instead, I would simply have to make her laugh as frequently as possible. Much less creepy.
We wandered together along the aisles, consulting our own handwritten lists from time to time, and I was surprised to learn that “companionable silence” isn't exclusive to male friendships. Maybe I'd just never hung out with the right kind of girl.
I gestured for her to precede me in the checkout line and she acquiesced with a smile that threatened to turn my insides to jelly. While we waited in line behind an elderly lady who was buying at least three months' worth of dry pasta, I studied Sara surreptitiously. She was short, maybe five-foot-three or so, and she had the slender, muscular lines of an athlete. Dancer? Runner? Swimmer? I wondered, thinking it was unlikely she participated in organized sports if she wanted to avoid speaking to the rest of the town's teenage inhabitants. I wanted to ask what she did for fun, during the hours she wasn't doing schoolwork or working at her mom's shop, but I was afraid that personal questions might shatter the comfortable bubble around us.
Apparently, I didn't need to worry because it was about to implode anyway. A tanned dude with spiky blonde hair and a white muscle shirt let out a shrill whistle from the entrance of the store. “Sara, sweet thang! How great to see you out in society again!” he called, oozing that malicious sarcasm I knew most bullies had perfected. I could see Sara tense, her beautiful mouth t
ightening into an expression between polite smile and sneer.
“I wish I could say it's lovely to see you, Jay, but I'd rather hoped you had fallen off the face of the earth,” she retorted sweetly. My eyebrows shot up and I studied the guy more closely, realizing this must be the friend Nelson was referring to. The one whose brother was serving time for killing Sara's father.
“Aw, sugar, don't be cruel,” he cooed back at her, his pale blue eyes hard as flint as he sauntered toward us.
I felt my own muscles tensing, ready to step in and sock him if he came much closer to her. She lifted her chin and I saw in that moment why redheads are saddled with the fiery temper stereotype. I could practically feel her thrumming with energy, preparing to spring. This was no damsel in distress, I realized with satisfaction. Sara was one tough chick who wasn't going to take any crap from anyone. Though some caveman throwback part of me wanted to pound this guy for hassling her, I was inordinately impressed with her composure.
She gave him a chilly smile and he finally seemed to sense that she wasn't going to back down. “So why are you back, Jay? College girls didn't dig the cheap bleach you used on your hair? Or did 1996 call and ask for the muscle shirt back? I don't think September in Central New York really calls for the surfer look, hun.”
His sugary sweetness hardened to ice and he stopped several yards from the checkout line. It was then that he noticed me, standing silently behind Sara. Some masculine instinct must have led him to interpret my protective stance and his lip curled into a cruel smile. “Why, what have we here?” he asked, cocking his head to study me. I was taller by at least a few inches, but he was broader. “Someone's managed to thaw the frigid little bitch?”
My jaw tightened. “Watch your language, man,” I replied calmly. The old lady in front of Sara had thus far been completely oblivious to the exchange, though the young cashier's ears had pricked up the moment Jay started speaking. Sara turned her attention to unloading her handful of items onto the conveyor belt, but I caught the sidelong glance she sent me. I sensed that my interactions with this thug would make or break any future relationship that might develop between us.
