Love Storm

by Ruth Houston

  I had gone to sleep late last night, and overslept and missed the bus. My dad was out of town, my car was in the shop for maintenance, and I had no one to get a ride from, so I had had to practically sprint the two miles to school. And I was still late for first period Calculus. Luckily Mr. Raskin loves me so he didn't yell at me, but I still had to go to the attendance office to report my tardy. I shook my head as I sat down. My mom would have a fit when she heard. Like I really needed to give her more material to nag me about than she already had. I had an essay for English due today too, and I hadn't finished it yet. I would have to go to the computer lab at brunch to finish it. Damn. Not to mention that I was exhausted because we had had a weekend tennis tournament at a location two hours away and I hadn't gotten home until eight last night. Which was why my mom had yelled at me again. Which was why, being the proud person that I am, I had gone to bed without eating dinner. And now I was regretting it, because I was starving – obviously I hadn't had time to eat breakfast or pack lunch.

  And there was still the feeling that Eva and Tristan were hiding something from me. Eva had never called me back, and I had a suspicion that Tristan hadn't driven eight hours to come home just to "visit the family…and stuff." If he had really driven up to visit, he would have stayed for the whole weekend, and he would have come to see me too. Something was going on. And they weren't telling me.

  And that hurt.

  And of course, me being me, any kind of blow to my feelings gets transferred into anger.

  Ugh. Could the day get any worse?

  But of course. As Mr. Raskin went about his daily lecture, lost in his ever-jovial mood and the wonderful intricacies of Calculus, I felt a headache coming on. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment and pinched the bridge of my nose. Nope. I guess it was here to stay. I stifled a groan and rested my forehead in the palm of my hand as I tried to take notes.

  Shit. I just realized something. One more thing to add to my beautiful list of things gone wrong this morning: in my haste to get to school I had left my tennis gear at home. Ugh. Coach Burling would be pissed. Shit, shit, shit. Yea, that sums up my life right now. I wanted to scream or something. And after that scream I wanted to go to sleep. Because I was exhausted. But I couldn't go to sleep. We had an exam in this class on Wednesday which meant I had to pay attention now or I'd really be screwed. Argh, and I had to think about my English essay while I was at it, because my thesis was crap.

  I take it back. "Shit" is not a strong enough word for the moment.

  Fuck. There, much better.

  I somehow survived through first block. Why, oh why do we have block scheduling at Branner High School? An hour and forty eight minutes of one class is really hard to sit through. When the bell rang I sighed and buried my face in my hands. Oh no, I had to get out of this room. If Mr. Raskin saw me like this he would definitely start asking me if I was okay. I did not feel like going through that this morning.

  I grabbed my binders and left the room. I walked slowly to my locker and deposited my stuff. I stopped there for a moment to collect myself and grab a sip of water from my water bottle. Not that it helped my headache much. My stomach growled and I popped a piece of gum in my mouth, hoping it would help my hunger, knowing it wouldn't.

  "Hey," someone said softly in my ear.

  I nearly jumped out of my skin. When I saw who it was I relaxed. "Hey Zack," I sighed, closing my eyes.

  He rested a hand on the small of my back, his presence suddenly calming me. He was standing so close, right in my personal space, so that my shoulder brushed against his chest, but I didn't care. I was too tired to care about anything. "You okay?" he asked quietly. "You don't look too great."

  "What are you talking about? I feel just hunky dory," I muttered sarcastically, rubbing my temple. "God this headache is killing me."

  "I'm sorry," Zack said, pulling me into a hug. I didn't even have the energy to resist him. Instead I leaned into him and hugged him back, hard, wrapping my arms around his lean shoulders and burying my face in his shirt as people walked by us in the hall. It was brunch, so we had some time before third block.

  God, why did he always have to smell so good? Zack stroked my hair, the other hand rubbing circles on my back. He rested his cheek on top of my head, saying nothing, his presence more comfort than any words could be. I realized that all the stress had finally caught up to me, because, to my horror, I felt the backs of my eyelids prickling. I took in a deep shuddering breath.

  "Oh, god, shoot me now," Zack muttered, the action not slipping past him, wrapping me tighter in his embrace. "Don't cry. Please don't cry. You're going to break my heart if you do."

  "Then don't say stuff like that!" I laughed into his shirt, half-hysterically.

  He chuckled that low chuckle of his. "What's wrong?" he asked.

  "Everything," I moaned. "I'm so tired. I overslept this morning and had to run to school…and I have an essay due next period…" The way he was massaging my back was so comforting and soothing, I could have fallen asleep right then and there, standing up. "…and I forgot my tennis stuff at home…" I continued. "Mmm, that feels so good." Then I felt a tap on my shoulder.

  "What?" I mumbled, assuming he had done it.

  "What, what?" Zack said.

  "You just tapped –" I started.

  Someone cleared their throat. "Excuse me," an annoyed female voice interrupted.

  "Huh?" Zack lifted his head to look at someone behind me, and I reluctantly took my face out of his wonderful smelling shirt to twist my neck around.

  Ugh. It was Larissa Kretcher, one of the preppiest, most popular girls of the junior class. She was very pretty. Too bad she was such a bitchy snob.

  "Excuse me," she repeated in that girly voice of hers, flipping her shiny, straight brown hair over her shoulder and placing her manicured hands on her hips. "What do you think you're doing?" She looked at me pointedly and tapped her foot, encased in its obviously spanking new Converse shoe. She was one of those preps that wore Converse shoes to look cool or whatever, not because they actually liked them.

  What? She was talking to me? All I could do was stare at her. Who the hell approaches someone randomly and asks what they're doing?

  "Well?" she demanded impatiently. "Who are you anyway?"

  "Who are you?" I retorted, though I knew very well who she was.

  Larissa Kretcher's glossed lips parted in a sneer. "My name's Larissa," she said snottily. "And you're hugging Zackary, which you obviously are not supposed to be doing. So get out of the way."

  She sounded so absurd I laughed in her face. From the murderous look in her eyes, she didn't appreciate it. "Larissa," I said sweetly, making it a point to wrap my arms around Zack's neck, "You're a very rude girl. Didn't your mother ever teach you manners?"

  She ignored me and pouted, changing tactics. "Zackary, who is this girl anyway?"

  Zack, unlike Larissa and me, was not rude, and said politely, though rather restrainedly, "This is Winter."

  "Winter?" Larissa laughed nastily. "Winter? That's your name? Like, the season?"

  "I think it's a beautiful name," Zack said quietly, which shut her up.

  "Zackary," she whined. "Why is she hugging you? She's such a bitch. You deserve so much better."

  "Well this 'bitch' is my friend," Zack replied coolly. He was mad, I could tell, because he was using that tone of voice.

  Larissa glared at me. I smiled brightly at her.

  "I'll see you later, baby?" Larissa cooed, resting a hand on Zack's arm. The effect wasn't too effective though because his arm was still around me.

  He nodded shortly.

  "I'll see you around, Winter," she said disdainfully, looking down her nose at me. I didn't even grace her with an answer. Larissa growled, spun on her heel, and left.

  I sighed. "That was kind of fun," I admitted.

  Zack started laughing really hard.

  "Hey, take it easy," I grinned. "You can let go now, by the way."

  "What if I
like where I am right now?" he teased, though he loosened his arms around me. "You feel a little better now?"

  I smiled at his concern. "Yeah," I whispered, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear and looking down at my shoes. "Thank you. I feel a little better now. But my headache is still killing me. Zack?"

  "Yeah."

  "Larissa Kretcher?"

  He grimaced. "She's not the worst."

  "There's more?" I said disbelievingly.

  He chuckled. "Yes," he replied.

  "Well that sucks," I remarked.

  He laughed again.

  "Okay," I sighed. "I better go. I have to work on my essay for English in the computer lab. And I'm going to go see if I can find some headache medicine or something."

  "Alright," Zack said. "You sure you're gonna be okay?" His golden eyes gazed at me, so full of anxiety.

  I smiled, and he seemed to relax a bit. "Yeah," I reassured him. "Since when am I not okay?" I jested lightly.

  He shrugged, nodding.

  "Alright, see you later," I said, reluctant to go.

  Zack smiled slightly. "Have fun with your essay."

  I nodded and gave him a half-wave before departing with my floppy disk in hand.

  Chapter 33: "True Love"

  -Winter-

  "What the hell is wrong with people these days? I mean seriously, is it that hard to answer the phone?"

  "I dunno, Winter. Damn, what the –– chill out man! What's with the killer forehands today?"

  "Ugh, sorry Becca, just trying to let out some steam."

  "Kay, just try not to kill me, alright? Tomorrow's Wednesday, remember? We're playing matches. Oh, by the way, are you going to the dance?"

  "Nah. Are you? With Nate?"

  "I dunno. We haven't talked about it yet. Crap! Jesus, what a forehand you have. Nice shot!" She called from the other side of the court.

  "Thanks," I sighed. Rebecca went to retrieve the ball, which I had hit hard, with tons of topspin, into her left corner. I tossed my racket into the air. It flipped over once and I caught it neatly.

  "Hey, Win," she said. She had approached the net with ball and racket in hand. "Don't get too stressed, okay?" Rebecca was speaking at a normal volume, and because I was still at the baseline, I had to strain my ears to hear her. I didn't look at her as she talked, just listened and kept tossing my racket and catching it. Toss and catch, toss and catch. "Eva will turn around eventually. She probably just has some new development in her life that she's worried about. I don't know, maybe she got in a fight with Martin, or she's having trouble with a class or something. She'll come to you in a bit, when she realizes how distant she's being."

  I knew Becca was doing her best to reassure me, and I appreciated that. It was a nice theory, but flawed in too many places – Eva couldn't have gotten into a fight with Martin. I saw Martin every day at school; he would have shown some sign if they were truly in an argument. And Eva never had trouble in school. But I said anyway, "Thanks Becks. I'm sure you're right – she'll come around soon."

  "Good," Rebecca beamed. "Now let's play some points against Mariko and Rosie. Don't you think we should try out that new fake-poaching thing again? I really want to use it tomorrow in our match."

  "Yeah," I muttered distractedly. "Let's try it."

  Later, after practice, the team was lounging along the western fence. Everyone was giggling and joking, already hyped up in anticipation of tomorrow's match. Our good practice had boosted team morale. I sat alone with my back against the fence, taking sips of my orange flavored Gatorade. There was a wind blowing, and with the sun rapidly setting, it was becoming quite chilly. I rubbed my arms, feeling the slipperiness of my skin from the mixture of sunblock and dried sweat and grime. I hated that feeling. I wanted to go home and take a hot shower. I pulled off my court shoes and socks, slipped on a pair of flip flops, and gathered all my belongings into my duffel.

  "See you guys tomorrow," I called over my shoulder at whoever was listening. Only Mariko and Rebecca graced me with answers.

  I trudged slowly to my car, which I had picked up yesterday afternoon from the shop (glaring at it furiously for not being at home yesterday morning when I had needed it), deeply immersed in my thoughts. How could I get Eva and the rest of the Westleys to tell me what was going on? Was it really so hard to let me in on it? We never kept things from each other. I dropped my stuff off in the backseat and was about to get in, then decided to head for the track instead.

  When I got there, I was surprised to see the cross country team. I had counted on there not being anyone out here. They usually trained out in the hills by the coast. I climbed to the top of the bleachers and watched the end of their practice – they were doing circuit training today. Five minutes later people started finishing up and doing their cool down, and ten minutes after that they were done. Zack and Gavin were easy to spot; it appeared that they had done their entire work out together in the fast group with Tyler Collins and Nathan. Right on cue, I saw Rebecca enter the track and jog towards Nathan, who seemed so genuinely happy to see her that it brought a smile to my face. How wonderful it must be, I mused, to be able to feel so happy just by seeing someone.

  I brought my knees up and hugged my legs to my chest. It was even colder and windier up here at the top of the bleachers than it had been on the courts. I shivered and rested my forehead on my knees, closing my eyes and trying to make myself as compact as possible so I wouldn't be cold. And also maybe as small as possible so no one would see me, so no one would come and even think about braving the cold to talk to me, because I didn't really feel like talking to anyone at the moment.

  Huh. I guess some people just don't give a damn about what you really feel like doing.

  I felt a light tugging sensation on my hair and belatedly realized someone was pulling out the elastic. Automatically my head jerked up and my eyes snapped open, bringing a hand to my ponytail, but it was too late. My hair fell around me in waves and I combed it back with my fingers as I regarded my visitor.

  "Gav, can I have my hair tie back please?" I said sweetly, still running my hands through my hair, and wincing – it always got all tangled after playing tennis.

  "Nope," he said pleasantly. "You should leave your hair down more often."

  I shrugged.

  "How was practice?" he asked before I could command him to give the elastic back, stretching his legs out and jiggling one knee.

  "Okay," I replied dully. "Yours?"

  "It's always fun trying to beat Zack at circuits," he grinned. "Of course I never do, but that's alright. He doesn't like me, you know."

  "What?" I exclaimed, stirred out of my stupor. "No way." This was news to me.

  "Yes way. It never shows on his face but I can tell." Gavin gestured down the bleachers to where Zack was packing up his duffel. "Take now, for example. He was looking at me when I pulled this," he snapped the hair tie on his wrist, "out of your hair."

  "Just because he was looking at you doesn't mean he hates you," I said, frowning. This guy had weird logic.

  "Nah, you should've seen the way he was looking at me," Gavin said matter-of-factly. "Trust me. It's just intuition. Then again…" He trailed off, squinting his eyes at me.

  "What?" I asked, giving him a weird look.

  "Nothing," he said, shaking his head. "You doing okay?" He moved closer, reaching toward me to smooth out my hair.

  "Hmm? Yeah," I said, smiling quickly. "I'm fine." God, why did everyone keep asking?

  "Are you sure?" he said skeptically, resting a hand on my cheek. It was uncomfortably warm.

  "Yes, I'm sure," I said with more conviction, pulling away slightly. I was getting better at this lying thing. "Look, I gotta go." He withdrew his hand and we stood up in unison. "Can I have – thanks." He had dropped the hair tie in my open palm before I could even finish phrasing the question. "Well, see ya."

  "Later," he said as I left. I could feel his eyes on me as I went along the top of the bleachers, dragging my fingers on
the fence, then descending on the side so as to avoid having to encounter anyone else. I walked quickly to my car with one destination in mind, determined now. I took the freeway going north and took the Hampton exit.

  xxxxx

  "Jeez, what are you doing here?" Eva grumbled tiredly, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She was dressed in an oversized t-shirt and flannel, plaid pajama pants, barefoot. "I finally get some peace and quiet by sending everyone out of the house, and I get bothered again."

  Oy vey. I could've rolled along just fine with something more along the lines of "Winter! (sheepish smile) Sorry about the other day," but at this point I guess I'd have to take what I could get. And anyway, I've had less enthusiastic comments than "Jeez, what are you doing here?" directed at me before, so no worries.

  "Came to see you, of course, Eva dahling," I grinned good-naturedly, entering her house when she moved aside to let me. It had now been months since they'd moved out of their home in Branner, but it still threw me off a little every time I went into their new (well, not technically so new anymore) house. I glanced around the living room – there was a rumpled blanket on the couch where Eva must have been taking a nap.

  My best friend looked at me sideways. "Look, if this is about the other day…"

  Ah. Now we were getting somewhere. "Yeah?" I prompted her.

  "Tristan said to tell you again that he's sorry he couldn't visit you," she said in a monotone. Now that I really looked at her in the bright afternoon sunlight pouring through the huge window in their living room, Eva really did seem kind of tired. She looked pale despite her natural tan, and her normally bright blue eyes were dull.

  Instinctively I moved closer to her and placed a hand on her forehead to see if she was running a fever. Suddenly my concern for her outweighed any harsh feelings or curiosity I had had before. "You doing okay?" I found myself echoing Gavin's earlier words. Nope, no fever.

  She sighed, collapsing on the couch on top of the blanket, and seemingly with that motion, all her walls came tumbling down too. "No," she said miserably.