by Ruth Houston
I laughed. "Exactly," I said.
"But it's bothersome," she frowned, and tied it up. I was a little disappointed at this, but was rewarded again when the wind picked up wisps of her messy bun too.
I laughed at her exasperated face. "Just leave it alone," I repeated, and reached over to tuck a stray piece of her hair behind her ear. I allowed my fingertips to gently trace the curve of her small ear, and settle behind the corner of her jaw. When she turned her dark eyes on me, I removed my hand almost immediately, suddenly feeling very hot where I was. I flushed, and turned so she couldn't see. Being around Winter confused me sometimes – she made my body do odd things that seemed out of place in our platonic friendship. Now, I may be new to the whole friendship thing, but I've got enough sense in my head to know it's not too great to be feeling these things around your ex's best friend.
"Anyway, are you going to pick me up on Sunday?" she asked, her voice breaking the silence.
"Sure," I said, glancing at her. "Do you even know how to drive?"
"I know how to drive," she said indignantly, tapping her sneaker once. "I've taken my Driver's Ed. class, thank you very much. I have my permit. I drive perfectly well," she sniffed.
"Perhaps."
"I'll prove it to you," she said. "Let me drive on Sunday after you pick me up. We'll see who's laughing then."
"Alright," I said in a purposefully skeptical tone of voice. She smacked me gently on the arm but let it slide with a reluctant smile.
~Tristan~
I laughed along with everyone else at whatever stupid, pointless joke our star quarterback had just made, but my eyes kept being drawn over to two figures sitting next to each other on the far bleachers.
Zack and Winter.
What was he doing with her, I wondered. Perhaps the more pressing question was: what was she doing with him? I had thought that she couldn't stand his guts.
Hmm… Perhaps I was witnessing a breakthrough. Either that, or Winter was more masochistic than I thought. Where was my sister? Shouldn't she be sitting with them?
"Westley? Hey, West, are you even listening?" a laughing voice said to me quietly.
"Huh?" I said. The guys liked calling me by my last name, which they had conveniently shortened to a simple "West", being the lazy people that they were. I turned and came face to face with a smirking Martin Rifkin.
"Sorry Martin, what'd you say?" I asked, taking a bite of my peanut butter and jelly sandwich, with extra peanut butter, just the way I liked it.
"I'm glad I'm not the only one who can't take these people's jokes," he muttered to me. I chuckled quietly. I always knew I had an ally in Martin. "I was asking you what you were so preoccupied with." We were conversing in low voices so as to not attract attention to ourselves. But as it was, it probably didn't matter anyway; all the idiots I sat with at lunch had lost too many brain cells to get anything through their heads other than football plays, and even those had to be drilled constantly into their heads.
I shrugged. I didn't want to disclose too much information to Martin: I figured everyone was entitled to his or her own privacy, so though the fact that Zack and Winter were sitting together at lunch, without Eva, had not escaped me (big brother instincts kicking in, I think), I said nothing about it to Martin. "I dunno," I said, taking a swig of my water bottle. "Nothing, really."
Martin nodded, probably figuring I didn't want to talk about whatever was on my mind. I spent the rest of my lunch hour sending periodical glances over to Zack and Winter, but nothing extraordinary happened. At the end of lunch, they bid each other farewell, and Winter made her way back to the school building while Zack headed in the opposite direction toward the boys locker rooms to change for PE. I followed Winter toward the school.
"Hey," I said when I caught up to her, "How's life?"
She smiled at me. "Well, I guess one can then question how much life can change in the 48 hours since I've last seen you."
I raised my eyebrows. Sometimes Winter mystified me. "Care to come again?" I asked, falling in step beside her.
She simply shook her head. "Later, my little confidant," she said vaguely.
I chuckled at her choice of words. "Confidant?" I asked.
"Sure," she said as we pushed past people at the front door to enter the building, our backpacks clashing and banging into others. "You are my confidant. Doesn't that mean I confide in you?"
"Uhm, maybe," I said, pretending to be confused. "Winter, you know I'm not good at vocabulary."
"Tristan, I know for a fact that you are excellent at vocabulary," she teased. After this, I lost her for a moment in the sea of students in the B hall, but found her again standing by a drinking fountain and waiting patiently for me to see her. I pushed my way past an impossible number of people before reaching her once again.
"This hall is crazy after lunch," I muttered.
"I know," she said as we started down the hall again. "Every day I half expect to trip and fall over someone. Oh, here's me."
I waved goodbye to her and headed to my AP English class. I must not have been paying attention, because one second I was reading a bright orange flyer for the Chess Club as I passed by a bulletin, and the next I found something hard connecting with my foot in midair as I toppled rather ungracefully toward the cold linoleum floor in the middle of the hall. So much for my athletic grace.
Someone groaned softly and I realized after a split second that I had landed on someone. A passing thought of the cliché-ness of this situation went through my brain before all I could register was the most beautiful pair of dark hazel eyes I'd ever seen in my entire life.
"Oooh, I'm so sorry," she was saying. "I'm such a klutz –" She was trying desperately to shuffle her papers back into her purple binder, which had completely opened up, while apologizing.
"That's alright," I said, picking up a textbook and handing it back to her.
"Thanks," she muttered as I began helping her to straighten her papers. I snuck a peek at the name on one of them – "Katherine Lin". I glanced quickly at her as she messily stuffed some lined paper in the back of her binder. She was Asian. Oriental Asian – perhaps Chinese. Or maybe Japanese; I wasn't sure. At a first glance, her looks were unremarkable. A second would tell you otherwise – her dark eyes were the traditional almond shape, her skin lightly tan, and her medium length black hair was lustrous and shiny.
I helped her up, and she blushed slightly when our hands made contact. "I'm sorry for bumping into you," I said. "I wasn't paying attention."
"Neither was I," she smiled.
"I'm Tristan," I said, offering her a hand which she shook.
"Katherine," she replied. "Aww, I've really gotta run now," she wailed as the warning bell sounded, "I just know I'm going to be late for Richards again, and she'll get pissed off. Thanks for helping me with my stuff."
"Anytime," I replied, and gave her a slight nod as she departed in the opposite direction. I continued my daily after lunch pilgrimage to English, but suddenly a thought turned itself over in my mind, and on impulse I turned around a second later, unconsciously searching out Katherine in the crowd. I found I didn't have to try – she, too, was looking over her shoulder, and as our eyes connected, I gave her a smile before I found I had bumped into yet another person while my attention had been diverted.
"Brother, you should watch where you're going!" It was said in a teasing manner.
My head snapped up. Only one person ever called me 'brother'. "Hey Eva," I said.
She grinned at me before entering a classroom on my right. I turned around again, hoping for another sight of Katherine, but she was gone.
~*~*~*~
"Why didn't I think of this sooner? You're a genius!" I rambled.
Winter waved a hand lazily in acknowledgement. "Now you figure it out. Come on Tristan, get with the program already. Everyone knows Winter Bruin is a genius extraordinaire."
I scowled at her.
"Hey, hey, what's the look for? Remember, I'm a genius tha
t has just figured out the brilliant solution to all your monetary problems."
"I could have asked someone else. I could have asked Zack. He would've given me the same answer. I could have asked my dad – he would have given me the same answer too. I could have asked Mom. I also could have asked E–"
I stopped abruptly, realizing what I had been on the brink of saying. I continued instead, hurriedly, "The point is, I should start looking for a job to get the dinero I so desperately need right now."
"Don't you have a bank account?" she asked me out of the blue.
"Yea," I said, scratching my head. I automatically turned on the sink faucet and began rinsing the used mugs and cups the kids had left.
"That's what I thought," Winter said. "You get statements every three months." She was lounging in one of the many sturdy chairs around our dining table, stirring a spoon in her cereal dregs. We had just put dinner into the oven.
"Have you been going through my mail again?" I asked incredulously, putting a clean glass on the drying rack.
"No, you always leave your statements open on the counter after you receive them," she replied. "I look over them. Four thousand dollars is a really, really good start Tristan," she said earnestly.
"Yeah, I'll need more than that though," I muttered. "Dad'll pay for the textbooks, which are expensive, but I'll need more than four thousand dollars to take care of the extra costs. I can't maintain myself and my car on that for four years."
"That's why you need a job," she concluded for me matter-of-factly.
I stopped. "What am I going to do?"
"I don't know," she said thoughtfully.
We were quiet for a while, the only sound in the kitchen the ticking of the clock and the steady splash of water as I methodically washed the cups.
"Where's Eva?" Winter suddenly asked me, casually.
I jumped and accidentally knocked over a plastic cup. "Uhh, I'm not sure," I said cautiously.
She only nodded in response. "You could work at a book shop. I saw a 'Hiring Now' sign up at Borders the other day."
It took me a moment to re-adjust. Talking to Winter required one to constantly pay attention in order to keep up, though quick subject changes only occurred when she had more than one pressing thought on her mind. "I don't think so," I said. "Could you see me working at a book shop? Like Borders or Barnes and Noble or something?"
She looked at me for a moment, then shook her head. "Nah. Maybe… you could work aa-at," she drew out the word, her eyes drifting upwards to look at the ceiling. All of a sudden something lit up in her eyes and she returned her gaze onto me. "Payne's!"
I shrugged helplessly as I turned off the faucet and dried my hands on a clean dishtowel. "And that is…?"
"A sports equipment store in downtown Hampton. You like sports, and you already know lots about it, so it sounds pretty ideal."
The more she talked, the more logical it became. I could already see this working out. "Why do you say Payne's though? There's other sports equipment stores in Hampton too. And one in Branner," I said. Branner may have been a residential city, yet we had somehow found room for a little shopping center off the main road. There was a tiny sports store there, I now recalled. Probably barely big enough to hold a wall of shoes and some racks of clothing.
"Yeah, but I know Payne's has an opening right now. A friend told me," she added on to my raised eyebrows.
'Payne's Sports…' I thought. "Who?" I asked out of habit.
"My friend Victor," she shrugged. "He's a sophomore. Super smart too. Straight A's…" She shook her head and mumbled something I didn't quite catch.
I let it slide – I was thinking too hard about how a job at Payne's would be.
A few minutes later, I drove Winter home on her request. After bidding farewell to her in front of her house, instead of turning east to return home, I changed my mind and took the main road to Hampton.
Chapter 15: Drained
Zack
"I feel so out of place," Winter muttered restlessly.
I glanced at her sideways. Reassuring words wanted to escape my lips, but my throat didn't allow it. I choked slightly and gave up trying to speak. It felt like I was suffocating, like someone had taken a firm grasp around my throat and wasn't thinking about letting go anytime soon. My heart was thumping out an erratic rhythm in my chest, and there was an odd, faraway ringing in my ears.
Yet somehow, through all this, my senses seemed sharper than usual. My ears caught on to strands of conversation even through the ringing, and they were still conveying detailed messages to my brain – I knew the college student, standing next to Winter and chatting away on her cell phone, was waiting for her boyfriend who was at some Italian art school studying abroad, that the family behind me was waiting for grandparents, and that the two business men to the far right were expecting an important customer. My eyes darted around San Francisco Airport's international arrival exit, absorbing totally irrelevant details – a bamboo plant display in the corner, a frayed edge of the grey nylon cord roping off the exit, the missing C on the yellow warning cone that read (in Spanish) "Cuidado – piso mojado." Caution – wet floor. Had I not been so distracted, the quirkiness of the situation wouldn't have escaped me – I was subconsciously making Spanish translations. I'm sure my Spanish 3-4 teacher would have been proud.
"Zack?"
I looked at Winter helplessly, feeling more and more like a caged animal with each passing second.
"You okay?" she asked, concerned, dark eyes searching mine. Suddenly she shook her head – "Stupid question, of course you're not alright," she muttered, slipping her hand into my elbow and leading me away from the exit area. We sat down in two grey plastic chairs.
"Shouldn't we go back?" I asked, blinking. My voice sounded haggard and rough even to my own ears – it was a product of the sleepless nights I had suffered through for the past four days or so.
"Their plane just landed, Zack," Winter said gently. "They won't be out for a while. Relax."
"I can't," I groaned, panicky now at the mention of my parents. "I can't do this, Winter – do you have any idea – " I broke off. "God, I can't believe I'm actually doing this," I breathed, burying my face in my hands and hunching over in my seat, resting my elbows on my knees.
"Oh, Zack," Winter said sadly, rubbing small circles on my back.
I was glad she didn't hold me, even though my mind was screaming out for her embrace, because if she did, I knew I would lose it for sure. In the back of my mind, I realized she knew this as well, and knew also that breaking down was not something I could afford at the moment.
A couple minutes later I rubbed my eyes tiredly and emerged from behind my hands, sitting up straight. I felt Winter's hand leave my back.
I glanced sideways at her. I wasn't sure if she had done it on purpose or not, but her clothes were a little less casual than usual – she was wearing a pair of nice jeans and a grey cable knitted sweater. Under the sweater she had on a long-sleeved white blouse – the collar and sleeve cuffs peeked out from underneath; over the sweater and blouse she was wearing a corduroy jacket. But when I looked at her outfit carefully, there were parts of it that made it decidedly her – she had put earrings in all five piercings, the buttons on her sleeve cuffs and collar were undone, and her choice of shoes brought a wry smile to my face. It was a pair of beat-up black Converses. Leave it to Winter to complete an otherwise fairly formal outfit (for her, at least) with the oldest pair of shoes she owned.
"You ready to head on back?" she asked, giving me a ghost of an encouraging smile.
I nodded, and stood up first, not even realizing I had offered Winter a hand until her weight was pulling gently on it.
"A gentleman even in a crisis," she murmured, prompting the a weak chuckle from me. "Relax," she repeated her earlier instructions as we headed back to the exit area. "You'll be fine."
I only nodded in response. My throat had closed up again.
Somehow we managed to push our way to the
front of the crowd waiting for people to come out. Winter checked the time on her cell phone nervously as the first people began to trickle out.
"They'll probably be some of the first passengers coming out," she said quietly.
"How do you know?" I asked. Miraculously my voice had re-gained its ability to work for a split second.
"They're flying first class," Winter replied, running a hand through her auburn hair distractedly. I could tell she was as nervous as I was.
My eyes glued themselves to the door through which my parents would be coming out. I saw one beautiful young Italian lady, an American college student, four business men in expensive business suits, and a grandmother and grandfather come out before I saw my parents.
Winter
Zack tensed alarmingly quickly next to me – I glanced at him and saw that his eyes were trained on a couple coming out. Sighing and realizing he would never be able to call them over, I waved at the middle aged couple and called out, "Mr. Crowne! Mrs. Crowne!" It caught their attention almost immediately. As soon as I had spoken though, Zack's hand had found mine and was gripping it so tightly I thought my blood circulation would cut off – but I didn't stop him. Instead, as his parents rolled their luggage over, I gently loosened his hand and shifted so our fingers would be laced together. Our eyes connected for a second, and in the depths of his beautiful eyes I saw a kind of desperation I had never seen before. It made my heart ache.
But the next moment, Zack changed so drastically it made me blink. They were minute changes, but it altered his demeanor completely – his posture became ram rod straight, his jaw tightened, his lips were drawn into a thin line, and lastly, his eyes closed off. The latter was the most difficult one for me to endure. In all the time I had known him, his eyes had never once been so detached and cold, so… unfeeling. The words 'human defense mechanism' came to mind.
Suddenly we were moving towards them – or, rather, I suddenly found myself being pulled along by Zack at a fast pace. I didn't have time to think.
"Hello Father," he said to the man. His voice too, had changed. His tone was now a cool indifference. But he said, with a tiny bit more warmth, "Pomeriggio buono," and this was directed at his mother. Or perhaps it was the fact that he was speaking Italian that made the tone seem less cold; I didn't know.
