Downcast

by Cait Reynolds

  I was kind of surprised that Jordan wasn't there. Zack was exactly her type. She should have been all over him, especially given the way she had been glued to Rob last year. Then again, I remembered the way she had been going after Haley yesterday, and I wondered if her “type” had changed over the summer or just since the first day of school.

  Slinging my backpack off my shoulder to the floor, I did the combination and opened my locker, hoping they'd all just ignore me.

  "Hey, Steph!"

  I looked over to my left to see Zack grinning at me. I examined that grin carefully for any signs of mockery, but just like yesterday, it was simply open and friendly.

  "Morning," I replied, smiling cautiously.

  "It's so sad about Rob!" Jennifer Houghton burbled at Zack, completely ignoring me.

  "What happened?" Melissa Bernetti demanded.

  "Oh my God! Didn't you hear?" Kara Manzino broke in. "He broke his collarbone yesterday during football practice. They took him to the hospital, and he had emergency surgery. They say he'll be back in school by next week, but he won't be playing football this year."

  "Oh, poor Rob," Jennifer sighed. "And it's his last year of playing for Darbyfield."

  "So does that mean you're going to get to play?" Melissa gushed at Zack.

  "Yeah," Zack replied, trying to seem sheepish, but failing. The boy oozed gloat from every pore. "Coach talked to me yesterday and picked me up as the quarterback for the season."

  "Convenient," I mouthed to myself and rolled my eyes as I stuffed my jacket into my locker.

  Honestly, I didn't make a sound, but Zack turned and looked at me as if he had heard exactly what I had said, his eyes wide with surprise.

  Uh-oh, I thought to myself, feeling the familiar pit in my stomach settle in for a siege I wasn't ready to fight. I had been irritated with Zack's cheerfulness about Rob. Even if my crush on him was over, and even if he had never known I existed, I still cared about him...like a total pathetic dork. And now, I'd pissed off the new quarterback. Countdown to social disaster in three...two...one...

  Zack's look of astonishment melted into a huge grin, and he winked at me. Confused and distrustful of my reprieve, I slammed my locker shut, grabbed my bag, and ran upstairs to class.

  I was a little early getting to the classroom. Alright, fine. I was the first person there, but that meant I could take a different seat, two rows over from where I had been yesterday. Haley and Jordan would probably stay in the seats they had already picked yesterday. This was a necessary part of the Project Avoid Haley that I had decided was my current priority. I glanced at the front row, where I knew Rob's seat would be empty as other students started to trickle in.

  Poor Rob—I felt so bad for him, getting hurt like that right at the start of the season. While I was feeling bad for him, another part of me was analyzing exactly how much I was feeling for him. I was pleased and a little relieved to find that my crush on him from last year really had faded.

  Crushes were so demeaning because it was the ultimate sign that you were nobody and nothing. If you weren't worthy of being noticed in the real world, then there was no way pining away in secret would make you any less pathetic. Crushes had a way of consuming you, sucking up all your daydreams and your falling-asleep dreams. Crushes made you an amazing detective, picking up every little scrap you could, trailing behind those who dropped them. Crushes gave you dreams to play with and shadows to cry over.

  As I sat pondering this, I heard Jordan's voice as she walked in, but I didn't look up.

  "Oh my God," she exclaimed. "It's sooo cold today! Aren't you cold, Haley? You're only wearing a shirt. I'd totally be freezing."

  I didn't hear Haley’s reply, but I kept my eyes resolutely focused on my notebook, fighting the need to see what kind of shirt he wore. That didn't stop my peripheral vision from seeing Haley take a seat at the desk next to mine again and noticing that he wore an untucked, dark grey, button down shirt. Jordan sat down in front of him, immediately turning around to face him.

  My treacherous ears began to burn, and irritation boiled below my skin. Why the hell did he have to sit next to me? I had clearly given him a chance to keep his distance. I wanted him to keep his distance because, if I was truly honest with myself, I knew that I was in danger of developing a crush on him, even after just one day. It would be so easy, so familiar. It was just an effortless little jump off the cliff and the long rush of a free fall until I hit the rocks of reality at the bottom and broke with the inevitable hopelessness.

  "Good morning, Stephanie," Haley said quietly, turning in his seat to face me.

  "Hi." I barely glanced up.

  "Oh, hey, Stephanie!" Jordan chirped.

  "Hey," I said, giving her the quickest nod and smile I could get away with. One always had to acknowledge the queen.

  "So, anyway, Haley," Jordan said, turning to him. "Where are you from?"

  "Hmmm?" he replied, still looking at me. My peripheral vision was getting really tired of trying to watch him but not see him, and the muscles in my jaw were locking up.

  "I asked where you were from."

  "Oh."

  "Like, where did you live before moving here?"

  "I've lived in many places."

  "Oh my God," Jordan gushed. "Like an army brat or something?"

  Haley didn't even acknowledge her and simply leaned over toward me. I shivered, wanting his attention, not wanting his attention, and generally hating myself.

  "Are you cold?" he asked me, his voice raspy and low.

  I curled up inside my chunky, lumpy, brown wool sweater and shook my head as I risked a quick glance up at him.

  "I'm freezing," Jordan announced, and a spasm of annoyance crossed his face. "At least Stephanie has that really, really big sweater. Isn't it warm, Stephanie?"

  The way she said it made it seem that I was so fat, that I, in fact, needed a tent of a sweater to cover myself. (Did I know this sweater was a product of fair trade wool from female yak herders in Tibet? Yes, Mom.) Still, I managed to give her my best dumbly-happy-to-be-noticed-to-by-Queen-Jordan smile that every Snub Club member was familiar with.

  "It's very warm," I replied.

  "Does the cold bother you?" Haley asked me.

  I blinked hard, as if it could clear my ears. For some reason, the way he said "cold" had sounded weird to me. It was like the word had an echo, and the echo had a meaning.

  "I hate the cold," Jordan proclaimed. Her voice sounded completely normal, so I just chalked up my momentary weird hearing to whatever. God, was I becoming a hypochondriac like my mother? Shoot me now.

  Haley had turned in his desk chair so that he faced me completely now, even as I still sat forward. His whole posture was tense, waiting. Oh. Waiting for my answer. Duh.

  "I don't mind the cold," I said. "Not really. It just came so suddenly this year. I mean, it's not like the weather in New England isn't kind of insane to begin with, but frost on Labor Day? That's just weird. I should ask Morris about it. He usually knows about everything like this."

  Was I babbling about the weather? I was. I was seriously talking about the weather to Haley Smith.

  I tried to brazen out my embarrassment with a smile that felt too tight on my face while my ears went from bake at 350º to broil.

  “You think the weather is unusual?” Haley asked me.

  Forgetting to be embarrassed for a moment, I raised my eyebrows and huffed out, “Don’t you?”

  “I absolutely do,” he replied, shadows of a sly, sexy smile playing at the corners of his lips. “And, I’m glad you think so, too.”

  Huh. Wow. I had no clue what to say to that, nor were my vocal cords working after that last smile of his. Thankfully, Jordan spared me the task of answering.

  "I was in a bikini, laying out, the day before Labor Day," she piped up. "What were you doing on Labor Day weekend, Haley?"

  He didn’t seem to hear her question or even remember she was alive. Jordan reached out and tapped him on the shou
lder.

  "So, where do you guys live?" she asked when he finally turned to look at her.

  "Outside of town," he replied laconically.

  "Where did you guys move from?"

  "Europe."

  "What do your mom and dad do?"

  I had to admit that I was just as interested as Jordan was in his answers, and I risked looking at him a little bit. Immediately, his eyes locked onto mine, and his lips curved up, ever so slightly.

  "My mom has a lot of international experience," he said, looking steadily at me. "Dad is always on the go." He gave a quick, quiet chuckle, as if he was enjoying a private joke.

  "So, it's just you and Zack?" Jordan demanded, tapping his hand to get him to look at her again.

  "Yes."

  "You guys are home alone a lot?" she asked, and I bit back a laugh before it could do more than choke me a little. You could practically see the neon sign above her processed hair: "PARTY AT HALEY'S!"

  He didn't bother answering her, nor did he turn back to look at her. I couldn't have looked at Jordan either, for that matter, because I was completely drawn into the endless black of his eyes.

  His smile was gone now. Something about his expression was tweaking at my subconscious, poking me like a shirt tag you can't reach. He looked cold, but also like he was suffering from the kind of cold that burned from the inside out.

  The second bell rang, and I jumped, jerking my gaze away from his as Ms. Collins came in and started class. I took notes on her lecture, but with a precision built from years of watching from the sidelines and “following leads” on crushes, I started to put together a detailed picture in my head of the life of Haley Smith.

  Part of me envied him for not having a mother around to boss and torment him. It sounded like he pretty much didn't have a father, either, as I guessed his father traveled a lot for business or something. It was just Haley and his brother.

  The more I thought about it, though, the more it struck me as kind of a lonely existence.

  As much as my mother irritated me, I knew she loved me. Did Haley feel like he was loved by his mother and father?

  Sure, he had lots of material things—you could tell from his clothes and his car that he was rich—but, did he have a sense of being loved, of being the most important thing in the world to someone?

  Zack seemed like he wouldn't be bothered by such a thing because it was his nature to assume—in the most lovably boneheaded way possible—that he was a super nice, fun guy and that everybody agreed with him.

  But Haley? Haley was dark and quiet. I suddenly wondered if Haley lived like a shadow in Zack's brilliant sun.

  I started to feel sorry for him, even though my brain was flashing to all the cheesy after-school specials about the "poor little rich kid," when, in my experience, most of them didn't need the pity.

  Once or twice during class, I glanced over at Haley. He wasn't taking notes. He wasn't doing anything other than looking down at the blank page in his notebook. He sat with his arms folded across his chest and his long legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles. He wasn't asleep, but he wasn't paying attention to the lecture, either.

  My third peek was my undoing. He looked up and caught me. My breath died in my mouth as I saw the look of anger and anguish that flashed across his features before disappearing behind a blank-eyed frown.

  Shock was the first thing to hit me. Disbelief skittered through. But it was the aching pity that filled me and terrified me. I couldn't risk feeling sorry for Haley. I couldn't risk feeling anything for Haley. I reminded myself that Project Avoid Haley was the only thing I could do. It was the only thing I was strong enough to do.

  CHAPTER SIX

  THE PROBLEM WITH AVOIDANCE is that it's a two-way street. The person you're avoiding has to want to be avoided or at least be ambivalent to the whole process.

  I really did do my best for the rest of the day. I changed my seat in Poetry. I completely skirted the Gaggle and Jocks tables in the cafeteria where Haley was now ensconced with Jordan and Zack. I even tried to spot when he was at his locker and slow down walking toward mine so that he'd be gone by the time I got there. I never looked at him in English, even though he sat right across from me.

  At one point, I saw him coming down the stairs a flight above where I was coming up. I ran back down the stairs, down the hall and up the stairwell at the other end of the building.

  Nothing worked.

  Haley paused when he came in the door to Poetry, scanned the room for me and took the desk next to mine. This meant, of course, that Jordan took the desk in front of his. Even she couldn’t ignore the pattern anymore, so I began to get some pretty serious dirty looks from Jordan.

  In the cafeteria, I went to the microwave to heat up Hot Pockets for me and Helen. Haley got up from his table and came over. He fiddled with forks and condiments, sliding me puzzled glances.

  I would shut my locker and see him standing a few feet away, eerily still, his eyes fixed on me.

  Orthopedic clogs were not made for running, but I ran up the stairs anyway, to try and make it to U.S. History on time from Government. It was my longest distance and tightest time between classes. Naturally, I end up tripping up the stairs because I am the only person who can fall up stairs. But instead of the face-plant-yard-sale-slow-slide-down-the-steps, I got two bands of steel wrapped around my waist to catch me.

  I looked up into Haley's face, trying to remember the words for "Thank you." I felt his fingers tighten, digging slightly into my waist, and every sound in my throat died.

  Abruptly, he released me, but not before I saw a haunted look of pain pass like a shadow over his face.

  By English, I was exhausted from trying to not think of him while trying to be aware of where he was at all times so I could avoid him.

  At the end of the day, I trudged to my locker and stuffed my backpack full of the things I needed for homework. I pulled out my jacket, shut the locker, and sighed, leaning my forehead against the cool metal.

  "Why are you sad?" asked a low, raspy voice behind me.

  I whirled around to find Haley standing so close to me that I could almost feel his breath against my lips as he bent his head to mine.

  "I'm not sad," I replied automatically, my mind scrambling for something—anything—to get me out of there. Above all, I couldn't afford to look into his eyes, which were...damn, which were soft and endlessly dark like black velvet, inviting me in. It would have been so easy to follow him into the invitation of in his eyes, to let the walls around me fall to dust and shed every protection and pretense.

  "Yes, you are," he said, smiling a little. "You're a terrible liar."

  "I'm tired and stressed," I said instead, knowing he had caught my lie, but hoping to deflect.

  "Are you always tired and stressed?" he asked quietly, his expression turning grave.

  I suddenly remembered that I shouldn't be talking to him, that this was against the avoidance policy. Yet, it seemed so natural to speak with him. It was like I wanted to pour all my words into him, tell him everything I was thinking and feeling. Oh, this was bad. This was really, really bad.

  "I don't know," I admitted, blinking hard because stupid tears had just decided to show up. "Maybe."

  I leaned back against my locker for support. The metal of the locker was icy cold, and sharp slats from the vents bit into the back of my skull, but I didn't care. We were so close that if we inhaled at the same time, I was pretty we would breathe each other’s breath. A wave of longing to be held by somebody, anybody, hit me like a literal punch to the heart. The very pain of it made my body tense and tighten.

  "Do I…stress you out?" he asked, his voice dropping to pure smoke and gravel.

  "N-no," I stammered, suddenly very aware of his beautiful menace. "Why would you?"

  He gave a mirthless little chuckle, and I swear I could almost feel the rumbling vibrations from his chest reverberating in mine. "I sincerely hope I don’t. But, I suppose it all depends."


  "On what?"

  "On how much of a mommy's girl you are." There was such bitterness in his voice that for a second, my skin stung as if it had been burned by acid.

  How did he know about my mother and her controlling reputation? Gossip from other people? Probably. Still. It was weird that it would upset him that much.

  "I'm my own person," I finally replied awkwardly.

  "Are you?" he asked softly. He still hadn't moved, and his breath whispered against my lips. Without thinking, I inhaled quickly, almost as if to try and catch it. His expression grew achingly sad as he traced one side of my jaw with his forefinger before pulling back and walking away.

  I stood there with his words echoing in my mind.

  Was I?

  ***

  At the store, I snipped the stems of the roses with a little more force than necessary.

  Mrs. Schultz looked slightly alarmed as she waited for me to finish prepping her bouquet. I tried to smile reassuringly at her, but I guessed it came out as an overconfident snarl.

  Snip.

  Was I stressed out by Haley? My answer was—after two bunches of Gerbera Daisies and an orchid pruning incident—definitely ”no.” Was I afraid of Haley? I didn’t think so. He didn’t intimidate me in the sense that I thought he was physically dangerous or psychotic or anything like that. But, maybe I was afraid of him in a different way. He was intense. He was cool. He was interested, and maybe that scared me the most. It was as if some law of physics had been suspended for the past few days, allowing the moon to wander off, gravity to take a break, and a cute guy to seem like he had a thing for me.

  Snip.

  Maybe I was afraid that someone had actually seen me, seen all the way through the shaggy hair, baggy clothes, and wall of nerdiness that had been my protection from the other kids and their constant mocking of my lack of knowledge of any popular culture. (Did I know those movies and music contained very bad values and would give me the wrong idea about how boys and girls interact?)

  Snip. Snip. Snip.

  "Would you like some greens to fill out the bouquet, Mrs. Schultz?" I asked, trying to unclench my jaw. "I have some really nice Baby's Breath and a couple of small ferns that came in today."