by Eliza Nolan
Chapter Five
I dragged myself to my locker to unload some of my books. I'd considered staying home since I hadn't slept well and my ego was shredded, but I didn't want to let Samantha get to me. I needed to prove to myself that I could survive just fine without her.
I struggled to make the combination lock work, finally getting it open on my fifth try. As I heaved my government textbook into my locker, I heard a familiar voice behind me.
"Hey, Julia," Libby said.
My shoulders slumped at the inevitable suckiness I was about to endure. I turned to face her.
Her proud grin told me she was getting ready to deliver one of her whoppers.
"What?" I said. I gripped the combination lock to brace myself for the attack.
"Where's your bodyguard?" she asked.
I pressed my lips together and swallowed against the hard lump forming in the back of my throat. I looked at Samantha's locker - right next to mine - hanging open and empty. I clenched my jaw hard, but it didn't stop a tear escaping.
"Aw, are you two broken up?" Libby doubled over with laughter as if my pain were the funniest thing she'd ever seen. Then she laughed her way down the hall.
My locker door jerked and sprung away from my hand. The metal loop from the lock slipped out of the handle and clattered to the floor.
What the…?
I opened my hand to find my combination lock - well, most of it. Without the metal loop, it was just a silly red dial with numbers. The door handle was twisted, like someone had taken the Jaws of Life to it.
Oh God, that didn't just happen. Did I just break off a metal lock? I had to be the weakest person I knew.
I grabbed the one on the next locker over and gave it a pull.
Nothing.
I laughed as more tears threatened to pour out. I was officially losing it. Maybe I was dreaming. I pinched myself, but it did nothing. And now I didn't have a way to secure my locker. I pulled all my books back out and shoved them into my bag, adding a handful of pens and other junk I kept in there, and closed the door.
It wouldn't latch shut. I tried pushing, but the handle was twisted. Finally, I gave up and walked away down the hall.
As I walked, something bubbled up inside of me. It was like a mixture of fear, wonder, and disbelief, so strong it made me want to cry, scream, and laugh all at the same time. What the crap was happening to me? I was losing it.
I examined the lock in my hand as I passed by the open door of my first class in a daze. I needed a moment alone. I'd just lost my best friend, and now I was losing my mind. At the end of the hall was a seldom-used stairwell. I curled up underneath the bottom set of steps and tried really hard to hold back the tears. It wasn't working.
"Julia?" Clara bent down, peeking underneath the stairs. "I thought I saw you pass by class. Are you okay?"
Great, I'd lost one friend, and now Clara was going to find out I was a nutty, blubbering idiot and run off, too. I managed a deep breath. "I'm good." I put on what I imagined was a very pathetic smile.
She crouched down and crawled in on her hands and knees, then took a seat next to me. "What happened?" She placed a hand on my arm, and I looked up at her. Her eyes filled with concern, she wanted to help.
I took a jerky breath and replied. "It's Samantha. She left. She's going to Como now with the rest of our old friends."
"Sorry," she said. For once, she didn't say more, and she didn't need to. Clara's sympathetic gaze somehow reassured me that even though it totally sucked, it wasn't the end of the world. She put her arm around me and we just sat there.
The combination lock felt hot in my closed fist. I appreciated her sitting with me, but telling her about the lock-breaking incident probably wasn't a good idea right now. I still needed to work that one out.
The late bell rang, and she sat with me a minute longer while I brought my breathing back under control.
"Think you can make it through class?" she asked.
I nodded and she led the way, crawling back out from underneath the stairs.
* * *
"How was class?" I asked Nate as Clara and I joined him at lunch. I scanned the crowd for Graham, but the cafeteria was so packed it was like playing Where's Waldo.
"Hello, Julia?" Nate said, waving a hand in front of my face. "Were you even listening to me?"
"Huh?" I said, forcing myself to look at Nate.
"You asked me how class was. I was telling you."
"Yeah, I was listening," I lied.
"There's Graham." Clara pointed.
My stomach did a somersault at the mention of his name. Graham was sitting at a table with all of the popular kids, right next to Libby and - just like all the other days - he was leaning in, paying close attention to her as she talked and laughed.
My spirits sank even further, if that was possible. It was obviously time for me to give up on Graham as a friend or anything more. He belonged with Libby's crowd.
"I guess we'll just have to go join them," Clara said, her eyes bright and optimistic. Was she completely oblivious to the social order in our school?
Nate cleared his throat. "I like it here better. Anyways, their table's full." He pulled his paper lunch bag out of his backpack. At least Nate knew we didn't belong at that table.
"Oh," Clara said. "I'll go get him then."
Clara walked over to Graham and they talked for a moment. Graham looked over at us and waved with a smile. Libby grabbed his arm and said something to him that was most likely bitchy and evil. He said something to Clara. She shrugged then headed back to our table, without Graham.
Her smile was forced as she took a seat next to Nate. What had he said to her?
"I guess he wants to stay over there, and there isn't enough room for us. You were right, Nate." She sighed, her smile falling. She looked almost as upset as I felt.
So this was it. The beginning of the end. Graham had chosen Libby over us.
"You two look so down." Nate frowned.
I looked up. When had Nate - Mr. Hardly-says-a-word - become the school counselor?
He cleared his throat. "I don't understand the whole chick thing." He waved his hand around. "And I don't wanna know what's going on, but maybe it would be a good idea if we all got together after school and just hung out. Relaxed. Have some fun maybe?"
Clara straightened and a smile wormed its way back onto her face. She glanced at Nate, then looked at me. "What do you say, Julia?"
I sighed. Maybe Nate was right. Maybe I needed a change of scenery. Plus, Clara had been so nice and really seemed excited about it. I didn't want to let her down.
"We could go to The Mark," I offered. The Mark was a total dive, but its proximity to West High meant most students had clocked hours there at some point to either meet after school and work on their projects or just hang out before going home. "They serve a bottomless cup of coffee. You know where it is, right, Nate?"
"Sure," he said, then turned to Clara. "I'll meet you after school and we can walk there together."
"Sounds good," she said, winking and nudging me with her elbow.
* * *
I trudged to my locker before fifth period to drop off my bag. My muscles ached, and I still had a bunch of crazy emotions whipping through my insides, but I'd nearly made it through the day.
"Hey, Julia." Graham came up next to me. "Walk with you?"
I pretended to look over his shoulder. "What, no Libby?" I asked, surprised at my gall.
He looked around, too. "What about Libby?" He tilted his head to one side, pursing his lips.
"Did Libby give you permission to talk to me, or is it okay as long as she's not around?" The biting words coming out of my mouth surprised me, but I was too tired to hold them in.
"Hang on, what are you talking about?" His head flinched back slightly.
"Today at lunch you sat with Libby, and sent your sister away. It seemed pretty clear that we're not good enough for you."
He scratched his head. "Wait, that
's why you think I didn't sit with you? When Clara came over, I was making plans for a biology project I have with Libby. I said y'all could join us. I mean, sure, Libby said we were overcrowded, but Clara didn't push it, so I thought she was okay." He shoved his hands in his pockets.
"Oh." Crap. I pressed my lips together. Once again, I'd jumped to conclusions without checking the facts. Could I make any more of a fool of myself with Graham? Or maybe I should just crawl into a hole somewhere and die of shame.
"So." Graham ran a hand across the back of his neck. "Can I walk you to class?" His eyes brightened and his smile returned.
"Sure. I just have to put some things in my..." I stopped in front of my broken locker. Face, meet palm. I'd actually managed to forget about the lock incident that morning.
"What happened?" Graham asked. He reached over my shoulder and touched the locker handle, examining it with a frown. "Did someone break in?"
"No." I grimaced. "I kinda had a…malfunction this morning." I didn't know how else to explain it.
"A malfunction?" He raised an eyebrow.
"The lock broke while I was getting stuff out."
"You broke a metal lock?" His eyes widened.
"It was just one of those cheap combination things. I don't know how it happened. I'm really not that strong."
Graham ran his fingers through his hair, looking at the bent handle once more. "You can stash your stuff in mine during class if you want."
"Sure." I tried not to sound as eager as I felt. What was I, twelve?
He led me to his locker and opened it, moving his bag and coat over to make room. I hung up my hoodie and bag, and he closed the door.
Then he pulled a pen out of his back pocket and grabbed my hand, cradling it palm up in his own. Heat shot up my arm and I watched as he wrote, 13-35-36. "Just in case something happens, and you need to get in before I can open it for you."
Graham held onto my hand, touching my palm with his thumb. I felt a trace of the tingling sensation again. Subtle, like carbonated bubbles fizzing wherever he touched, and definitely not in my imagination. I looked up at him, and waited for him to say something, to acknowledge that something was going on. I wanted to ask if he was doing something, or if he felt it, too. But I wussed out.
Graham swallowed. "Not that you need a combination to open these lockers. They're just cheap metal, right?" He smiled wryly, releasing my hand.
"Right," I said.
* * *
Graham sat at the wheel next to me with hands covered in clay; he pulled the walls of his latest attempt up with his fingers, his blue eyes focused. He was still trying to get the hang of throwing a basic cylinder. And he was getting it, until he hit a lump and one side shot out sideways.
I grimaced.
"Maybe you could show me again. Or am I a lost cause?" He gave me a warm smile, which made my cheeks flush.
I shook my head. "You might even be able to rescue that one."
He squinted at me in a playful glare. "You'd be able to, but I don't have your magic. You're some sorta clay whisperer."
I rolled my eyes and smiled, then stood up and shooed him out of his seat. "Come on, I'll show you."
He rose, and I took his seat and set the wheel moving. He leaned over my shoulder, so close his hot breath tickled my ear. My skin erupted in goose bumps. Was he trying to make me ruin his project? With him so close, rescuing his pot was the last thing I wanted to do.
But I somehow managed to control my fluttering heart and walked him through slicing off the uneven top of the pot and smoothing out the rim.
"See?" His low voice made my insides hum as he spoke. "A clay whisperer."
I turned to look at him; his face was so close. I expected him to pull away, but he didn't. Instead he remained bent over, looking me in the eyes. I could feel the heat from his skin. My pulse rioted. I swallowed and tried to remember to breathe.
I didn't want to ever look away, yet that's exactly what I did. My gaze dropped and I bit at my lip.
He straightened. "Thanks."
"Sure." I got up and moved back over to the safety of my own potter's wheel.
Graham returned to his seat and continued working on his rescued cylinder, finally pulling it into something that resembled a squat vase.
"Nice," I said.
"Don't lie, it's depressing," he joked.
"It's not that bad."
"Keep defending it and I might end up giving it to you one day," he threatened.
Okay, the vase was a little sad looking, but just the thought of him giving me something made me giddy.
"The saddest part is that this is not only my best yet, but I have to give you credit for saving it. I can't believe I have to share my D+ with you." He scrunched up his nose in mock irritation.
Like a kick in the stomach, the bell rang ending fifth period. Had an hour passed already? I'd just had the best class ever. Talking to Graham was becoming easier and I had such a good time I did something I never would've thought possible. "We're meeting after school today to hang out, if you want to come."
I felt like a fool as soon as I said it. Why would he want to go hang out with us? He probably had some stupid date with Libby, even if it was only Tuesday.
"Sure," he said. "I'll come with Clara. She knows where?"
Fireworks of happiness exploded in my head. He said yes! "Yeah, she's going over with Nate. He knows where it is."
"Nate's coming," Graham mumbled. His jaw clenched and irritation crossed his face briefly before he looked at me and smiled. "Looking forward to it."
He walked me back to his locker and unlocked it for me. I grabbed my hoodie and bag.
"See you," he said, heading off to his last class.
I slipped on my sweatshirt and breathed in an aroma of musk and spice. After an hour in his locker, it smelled like Graham. I shamelessly covered my nose and mouth with it and inhaled as I left.
* * *
The sole waitress at The Mark ran a vacuum across the threadbare carpet a couple of booths down making concentration on my government homework nearly impossible. Honestly, I wasn't sure if I was more distracted by the roar of the vacuum, or the excitement of hanging out with Graham after school. I glanced out the dingy storefront for the millionth time, and finished off my coffee. They'd be here soon.
The vacuum cut off, and the waitress arrived with a fresh pot. "More coffee, sweetie?"
"Yes, please." I slid my cup across the water-stained, wooden tabletop. The antique bell tied to the door jingled and Clara and Nate walked in. My stomach tightened and I searched behind them. No Graham.
"Hey. Didn't Graham find you?" I asked as they scooted in across from me.
"No, why?" Clara asked.
"He was supposed to come with you."
"We didn't see him," Nate said.
Clara produced her cell. "I'll call him."
I stirred my coffee as I waited.
"Voicemail," she said. My heart sank. "Graham, it's Clara. I hear you were supposed to come out with us. Where are you? Call me." And she slipped her phone back in her bag. "Maybe he doesn't have good service. I'm sure he'll call back soon."
I hoped she was right. After class earlier, the thought of him blowing me off hurt. Please, no.
"Coffee?" the waitress asked.
Nate nodded.
"Please," Clara said. "Unless, y'all have sweet tea. Do you have that?"
The waitress raised her eyebrows. "Sweet what?"
"Coffee then." Clara waved her hand and the waitress nodded and walked off.
Clara hauled out her calc textbook. "Do y'all mind if we do some homework? I have a bit of catch-up to play since I missed the first few weeks of school." She smiled even as she suggested we do homework. Study group wasn't exactly what I'd been thinking when Nate proposed we hang out after school, but I pulled out my textbook anyway, opening it up to start on that night's assignment.
The focus calculus required did end up making me forget about Graham for whole minutes at a
time. When five o'clock rolled around and Graham still hadn't shown or called back, Clara tried calling him again with no luck. "He usually calls me back right away." It was easy to read the concern in her wrinkled forehead. "Maybe his battery died or something. Why don't you give me your number, Julia? That way I can call you later when I find my brother. This just isn't like him."
I nodded, hopeful there was a good reason for his no-show. She tapped my number into her phone as I recited it, then her face turned red. "Nate, you could give me yours, too." She paused. "You know…if you wanted to…for…"
I covered up a smile with my hand. She was so talkative, but something about Nate totally flustered her.
Nate beamed and nodded. "Yeah, good idea." He leaned over her shoulder as he recited his number to her.
I turned away. Ugh, do not need to watch them flirting.
Nate closed his textbook. "I have to get home for dinner soon or my mom'll kill me."
I frowned. I'd begged Dad to let me stay out past dinner, and now it looked like I'd make it home in time to eat with him anyway.
I sighed and started packing up my things.
"How are you guys getting home?" Nate asked.
"Bus," I answered.
"I'm supposed to call my mom so she can come get me," Clara said.
Nate smiled and pulled his keys out of his pocket, dangling a car key in front of us, his face beaming with pride. "I can give you guys a ride."
We paid the tab and went out to find his ancient sedan parked out front. It might've been silver in a previous life, but now the body was mostly rust. Still, I couldn't complain. It was so much nicer than the car I didn't have.
Nate dropped me off first. Thank God. Seriously, watching them blush and stammer as they flirted back and forth made my skin itch.
At home, I collapsed onto my bed. Reaching over to my bedside table, I grabbed Lord of the Flies and opened it to the bookmarked page. Maybe it would take my mind off Graham's no-show.
A few minutes later my cell rang. Dropping the book, I jumped for the phone. It wasn't Clara, though. It was Samantha. I ground my teeth together. As if I needed a reminder that there was more than one crappy thing going on in my life.
