by Lily Foster
Coach wanted to meet with me Monday morning back at school. I knew he would be relaying the inquiries that were being made, giving me the contact information from the coaches and scouts he’d spoken to. He’d talk me through it, giving me no opinion but an honest idea of the pros and cons. Then I needed to make a decision. Even though, technically, I didn’t have to make any decisions at this point, I felt like I was at a crossroads and I did have to decide which path I was going to take.
I needed someone to talk to about all this.
I needed Anna.
Sunday afternoon, back in my dorm, I was glad to see the rest of the guys coming in, making their way back after the long winter break. Simon, Colin, Jimmy, Terrence and Frank were all in my room, Frank passing each of us a beer from a six pack of some Italian beer, Peroni, left over from the big Christmas Eve party at his house.
“I read about it online, Declan,” said Colin. “Sounded like you were magic on the ice last night.”
“I had a good game.”
Jimmy pinched a bottle cap between his thumb and forefinger, whipping it in my direction. “Don’t be modest, Banks. Brandon said he’s never seen you play like that.” He laughed as he said, “He said it like he kinda hates you, though. Jealous motherfucker.”
Frank said, “He said the scouts have been at the games. He said they’re there for you.”
I wasn’t comfortable talking about this with them. “I don’t know about that. They could be there scouting a bunch of us.”
Simon, always the thoughtful, reasonable one, said, “I don’t know, even if they were dangling that kind of money in front of me, I don’t think I’d want that right now.”
“Are you fucking crazy, Simon?” Terrence asked, laughing. “You would turn down pro hockey money? Seriously?”
“I’m just saying I might be tempted to wait.”
Frank said, “Not me. I’d give my left nut to be a pro athlete.”
Eager to take the focus off me, I said, “Warner and I were talking about it at Jamie’s house the other night. He’s a senior so that’s what he’s been focusing on.”
Colin said, “I heard that party was out of control.”
“What did you hear?” I asked, cautiously.
“Brandon just said it was basically X-rated, that’s all. He’s still in bed, hung over. I was waiting for you to fill in the blanks.”
“I guess for some people it was crazy.”
Frank smirked. “Let me guess. Saint Declan, patron saint of long-term relationships, wasn’t up for all the down and dirty, right?”
Terrence said, with more than a hint of derision in his voice, “Please. It’s not exactly like Banks is the poster boy for monogamy.”
I leveled him with a warning and then just started gathering my clothes, trying to look like I was about to do laundry, hoping they’d get the hint that I wanted them all to leave. So much for being happy to see them.
“You want my advice?” Frank asked.
“Fuck no,” I answered. He was the last person I’d take advice from about girls. He was the biggest man-whore I knew. After treating Danielle like shit, he’d gone on to hook up with a different girl almost every weekend.
“Really, Declan,” he went on anyway, “you look all torn up even though this should be the best week of your life! You’re the star on the hockey team and you’re a fucking freshman. You won’t say it but we all know the scouts are there for you, recruiting your ass. You just got rid of a clingy girl.” He held his hands up defensively. “Hot, nice, great, all that. But Tess was holding you back, we all saw that.”
“Shut the fuck up, Frank.”
He shook his head. “That didn’t come out right, Declan. I’m just saying, shouldn’t you take a break? You’re ready to jump right back into something serious with Anna when—”
Terrence interrupted, “You have girls lined up and willing. Maybe you should tap some of that…have some fun, you know?”
Frank pointed at Terrence, “That’s what I mean. Why get all into a,” he groaned the word, “relationship? You have your whole life for that miserable shit.”
I just shook my head. Frank suggesting this was innocent. He really believed that I’d be happier fucking random girls. But with Terrence, that shit was self-serving. Who would be there to swoop in and fix Anna’s broken heart? Nice try, asshole, I thought.
“Have you spoken to Anna?” Colin asked.
“Has Lauren said anything?”
“She went to Anna’s for New Year’s Eve with her sister, Laney, and a bunch of other girls. She said Anna seemed better, that’s all. Lauren was mostly talking about how sick the house is. I didn’t know she was a Cole.”
That’s because Anna never mentioned it, I thought. Not even to me. I knew she lived with her relatives but she failed to mention they were one of the most powerful families in the country.
“Isn’t her name Clarke?” Simon asked.
“She lives with her aunt and uncle,” I answered him quietly.
Terrence asked, “Are her parents dead or something? No,” he seemed to remember, shaking his head, “she’s mentioned her mother before.”
“If I had Vince Cole for an uncle, I’d disown my parents too,” Frank said offhandedly.
I could feel my face getting hot with anger. I didn’t want to be a dick but I’d had enough. “All right, everyone out. I’m heading to the gym.”
Sunday night I sat at my desk, staring out the window. At ten o’clock sharp, I was rewarded with at least a glimpse of her. She was just a shadow moving in the dark except for the bright silver reflective strips of fabric that snaked down the side and across the front of her running tights; a swerving design that seemed to wrap around her knee. I didn’t even entertain the idea of joining her. I had to be content watching and waiting.
Aggravation, gnawing irritation that was really masking fear, grew within me as ten-thirty stretched to ten-forty-five and then eleven. My jaw was tight by the time I saw her sprinting her finish down the road. I waited until I saw her coming up the hill before turning off my desk lamp. I hoped she saw the light go out as she came closer, knowing that I would keep watch until I was certain she was safe.
I was strategizing as I lay there sleeping. Should I track her down tomorrow? Was that too soon? On the other hand, waiting might give her the idea that I wasn’t desperate to see her when I absolutely was.
Even though my first class wasn’t until early afternoon, I got up early, showered and made my way over towards South Campus, where most of the math, technology and art studio classes were held. Majoring in architecture, most of Anna’s classes were typically here. Sure enough, I saw her standing outside of a modern, all glass structure, the design pavilion building, hanging out with her classmates. Some took long drags on their cigarettes as they spoke excitedly to one another. Anna, sans cancer stick, rubbed her hands together and smiled after watching her breath turn into a cloud of smoke as she blew out. She was adorable. She was wearing a chunky, orange turtleneck sweater over faded tight jeans that had rips and torn edges. No jacket and holes in her jeans. She looked good but wasn’t she freezing? I thought as I stood staring from a distance, nearly hidden behind a tree. No, I saw black leggings underneath the jeans that were tucked into the fur-lined boots. Good.
Some guy a full head taller than her, artsy looking in his pea coat and skinny jeans, came up behind her then and covered her eyes. She looked alarmed for a split second but then her face broke into a smile when he whispered something into her ear. He dropped his hands from her face and then he joined their group of five, talking and laughing. Two girls and three guys; they all looked close, like they knew one another well. Anna had told me about the charrette, the long sessions where her assigned group would meet to labor over design and planning issues as they worked on projects for their integrated design classes. Maybe she’d spent long hours with these people, getting to know details about their lives while they learned about hers.
Suddenly I felt fo
olish standing fifty yards away, practically stalking her, and decided to approach. Did it have anything to do with how close to Anna that guy was standing, or with the way he was now twisting her ponytail playfully? Maybe.
“Hey, Anna.”
She turned at the sound of my voice; the smile from a few seconds ago replaced by a deer in the headlights look. “Hi.” Awkward silence. “Uh, Declan, this is Marielle, Ryan, Jeff and,” she gestured to the hair twister, “this is Owen.”
Owen…right. Owen was into her. Even if I hadn’t remembered Fiona’s take on Owen’s feelings, I’d already discerned the obvious. The look he was giving me now only confirmed it. One corner of his mouth was turned up in a smile, a knowing smile. A smile that said: this girl, this pussy, this heart, it’s all mine. I wanted to bitch slap that smile right off his arrogant face. He was throwing down the gauntlet.
He playfully tugged on Anna’s ponytail again. “C’mon partner, we’re gonna be late.”
Anna was still standing there, looking at me. I was looking at her. That ass was still standing there too, even though the other three were making their way into the building. I shifted my gaze to Owen to shoot him a menacing look. Run along, asshole, is what my look said. I don’t know if Anna was catching this silent exchange between us but she ended the stare down when she said, “I’ve got to get to class, Declan,” and she turned and walked away. He turned then too and—I’m sure it was purely to piss me off—put his hand on the small of her back as he opened the door for her and ushered her inside.
Anna
I returned to school late Sunday night and wasted no time Monday morning, going to see my Intro to Design professor. He wasn’t in so I had to cool my jets and wait another day. I was restless and practically bounced into his office first thing Tuesday morning. He was skeptical when I told him I was applying for the summer program at Cooper Union, telling me I was far too inexperienced, but after looking at the portfolio I’d put together, he agreed to write me a letter of recommendation.
I was practically bouncing across the campus after that victory and didn’t even notice him until he was standing right in front of me, blocking my way into my next class. “Did you just win the lottery or something?” Declan asked, smiling. “You have the biggest, shit-eating grin on your face that I’ve ever seen.”
Wow. I didn’t expect to feel the rush of emotion just from the sound of his voice and from seeing him, so close. Yesterday when he approached me it was the same—the feeling of being frozen in place, wanting to melt into him, yet hardly even able to form words.
Stay strong, Anna, I thought to myself yesterday. You need to stay away from him, you have a life outside of him, you have goals, important things to accomplish. This was my mantra.
“Hi, Anna,” he greeted me again with a sad smile.
God, I wanted to hug him, cry, kiss him and slap his face again, all at once. We just stood there, awkwardly for a moment before I said, “I’d better go in, don’t want to be late on the first day. See you, Declan.”
As I was making my way in he looked down at his schedule quickly and looked back up to me. “History of the Old Testament?” he asked, looking genuinely surprised.
My face couldn’t mask the panic that was settling in. I didn’t want to sit next to him every Tuesday and Thursday morning from ten to eleven-forty-five for the next four months. That definitely didn’t fit into my Steer Clear of Declan plan. He read my thoughts. “Anna, do you want me to switch out or something? I will, if that’s what you want.”
I shook my head and gave him a look as if to say, “Don’t be ridiculous.” But if I’d finished that thought, I would have told him not to be ridiculous, that I’d be the one switching out of the class.
He followed me in and when I took my seat, he paused, probably debating whether or not he should sit next to me. He decided to do it. I closed my eyes as he settled into his seat. That smell—some brand of men’s sport deodorant he always wore mixed with his own clean, masculine scent—invading me. It was literally painful, deep in my chest.
The five minutes that stretched ahead before the official start of class now seemed interminable as I looked up at the clock. Damned my obsessive punctuality. “How are you, Anna?” A simple, polite question from anyone else, but coming from Declan, it was as loaded as could be.
“I’m good. I’ve been really busy. I’m applying for this big deal summer program. It’s a long shot. I basically have zero chance of making it but I’m putting together a portfolio anyway.”
“You’re work is so good, Anna. I’m sure you have a shot at it.”
“Thanks,” I said, thinking that he wouldn’t know the difference between a truly gifted architect and a crappy one, but that was ok.
He looked at me then and said, “But I meant, how are you… about everything that’s happened. I—”
The professor, a stern looking older man, who turned out to be Father Xavier Delaney, rapped a book on the desk to call the room to order. This wasn’t a large class with stadium seating and a few hundred students. No, this was an intimate class of twenty-five or so where, we were told by Father Delaney, we would discuss the Old Testament in great detail and collaborate with our classmates on projects. He also seemed to be a fan of the Socratic Method, firing questions at you when you least expected it. Declan scribbled in his notebook: This guy’s no joke. I looked down to read it and stifled a laugh. As a reward for my impertinence, I got called out. “Young lady in the wildly patterned, black and cobalt blue dress…what is your name?”
Kasia had given me a closet full of pieces for Christmas, including some knitwear that was, despite this crusty old man’s opinion of the pattern, totally rocking.
The dress hugged my body perfectly and I had on black tights and some mid-calf, black lace up boots that completed the downtown look. This outfit made me want to dye my hair black when I first looked in the mirror this morning—and I mean that in a good way. The hair dying thing was out for a while, though, since I’d noticed one too many damaged split ends. My hair needed a break from the abuse.
I felt great leaving the dorm with my short black leather jacket and my blond curls in a high knot. I was cold—it was January in Boston after all—but I suffered some frigid legs because I felt good, I felt like an artist. The outfit gave me the confidence I needed to persuade my professor to grant me that recommendation this morning. It screamed ballsy, edgy, and creative.
“Anna Clarke,” I answered.
“Miss Clarke, perhaps you’d like to enlighten us with the names of the first five books of the Old Testament.”
I guess I was still feeling a little ballsy because I felt like opening with, “What is this, amateur hour?” before I rattled off the names, with certainty and a smile, “Genesis, Exodus, Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy.”
If he asked me what any of those books signified, I would have been screwed, but memorizing was easy for me and GELDN was just another useless acronym I had stored away in my brain, like SCUBA and ROY G BIV.
He smiled with his lips pursed. Round one went to me but I sensed he’d be looking to regain the title soon enough. A class transfer was looking like the smarter option. I had enough on my plate this semester with Advanced Calculus, History of Architecture, Design Studio Two and an English Literature requirement. I was looking for Theology to be my easy A.
Five minutes later, Declan the Clueless was scribbling another note to me. Was he trying to get me nailed? He wrote: Can we get lunch together? When I didn’t answer immediately, he nudged me and I looked over, raising my eyebrows in warning. Too late. “Miss Clarke, what are those first five books of the Old Testament called, collectively?”
I held back from rolling my eyes. I felt like telling him he’d have to do better than this. I mean, I’d easily been to thirty or forty bar and bat mitzvahs over the course of my short life. “The Pentateuch or The Torah.”
He wasn’t going down without a fight. “And we know what the focus of Genesis and Exodus are,
as the names speak for themselves, but can you tell us, Miss Clarke, what is the focus of Leviticus, Numbers and Deuteronomy?”
I was down for the count. “No, sir, I cannot.”
“Very well,” he said, obviously pleased with his haughty little self. “I was beginning to think Miss Clarke could teach this section but obviously she will have to pay close attention just like the rest of you.”
By now, other kids in the class were turning around, smiling and smirking. Declan, thank goodness, kept his head down for the remainder of class and didn’t pass me any more notes.
After class, Declan grasped my free hand as we walked out and squeezed it before letting go. “Sorry ‘bout that.”
“Yeah, thanks, jerkoff.” I couldn’t help but laugh as I said, “You think you would have gotten the hint after I got picked on the first time, but noooo.”
He was smiling now too. “I was starting to think you were some kind of Old Testament whiz kid in there. It was kind of hot, Anna.”
I stopped in my tracks and looked at him. “Don’t do that. We’re not where we were, ok?”
He threw his head back and let out a breath. “Yeah, that’s obvious.” He looked back at me, frowning. “I guess lunch is a no?”
“I do want to talk sometime, Declan, but the deadline for course changes is tomorrow. I don’t have the time or the mental fortitude to deal with that dude’s crap this semester. I have a tough course load.” He was quiet so I said, “It has nothing to do with you, really.”
It did, though.
As we walked the length of the quad I began to have this odd feeling, like the air around Declan was somehow different. People were turning to look at him, parting to make way for him as he strode through. Upperclassmen nodded their heads at him, bumped fists with him, and everyone in general was either saying hello or eyeing him with approval and familiarity. “What is going on, Declan? Did you get voted school president or something? Why is everyone smiling at you? It’s weird.”
He shrugged his shoulders. “I had a good game last weekend.”
