The Day We Met
By
Dusti Bowling
Copyright © 2011 by Dusti Bowling
www.dustibowling.com
These stories are works of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication can be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, without permission in writing from Dusti Bowling.
Cover art by Zach Bowling & Stacy Dowling
www.dustibowling.com
Table of Contents
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Before I formed you in the womb I knew you;
before you were born I set you apart…
Jeremiah 1:5
Chapter 1
“Where’s Aidan?” I asked Brittany as we stepped through the door to Cecilia’s house. No, not house—mansion. It hit me that every girl there wore some kind of costume made from lingerie.
Lingerie + wings = fairy.
Lingerie + wings + halo = angel.
Lingerie + wings + halo + wand = fairy angel?
It seemed Halloween was simply an excuse for them to wear their underwear in public. I looked down at my own knee-length skirt and turtleneck sweater. Why hadn’t I worn a costume?
Stupid, I scolded myself.
My hands were sweating like I was a superhero whose only superpower was the useless ability to shoot water straight out of my palms. Did that count as a costume? We hadn’t been here five minutes and I was already acting like a total geek.
Insecurity level—three.
I looked beside me. Brittany had vanished, leaving me to brave the party alone. I walked through the crowded room, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. I recognized some guys from the basketball team and wondered if they knew where Aidan was. I decided not to ask and moved on through the living room, where a couple of people, including a girl wearing a white nightgown and veil, glanced at me in a what-the-heck-is-she-doing-here kind of way.
Here comes the bride, I hummed softly to myself as I made my way out of the living room.
“Nice skirt,” someone said as I passed through the dining room. I turned to look at a bikini and grass skirt-clad girl sitting at a large walnut table with two boys dressed as Samurais.
“Oh.” I stopped and looked down at my skirt. “Thanks.”
She snorted and continued her conversation with the Samurai beside her. I realized the compliment had been sarcastic and hurried past them.
Insecurity level—five.
I finally found Brittany in the kitchen, a beer in one hand, Calvin’s hand in the other. “Hey,” I said as I hurried toward her. She turned to look at me, opened her mouth to say something, and Ross Jenkins from my English class stumbled out of nowhere, crashing into me and splattering my clothes, face, and hair with his beer.
“Ross, you klutz!” Brittany laughed. Ross laughed too. Actually, everyone in the kitchen laughed. I guess it was pretty funny, though I didn’t see the humor in it. I looked down at my soaked skirt, which apparently hadn’t been very nice to begin with.
“Sorry,” Ross said. He covered his mouth with his hand, trying unsuccessfully to hide his snickering.
Insecurity level—eight.
I bolted out of the kitchen, pushing past basketball players and an endless number of girls in their nighties until I reached the stairway. I ran up the stairs and down the hallway, opening door after door until I found a bathroom. I went inside and locked myself in, leaning my head against the door, my heart racing, trying to catch my breath.
“Stupid,” I whispered, grabbing a handful of my hair and squeezing it tight at the scalp until it hurt. I let it go and bunched up my skirt in my hands. It was completely soaked with the nasty-smelling, yellow liquid. I held it under the faucet, letting the water soak in, then wrung it out, hoping the beer smell would drain away with the water. I shook my skirt out and let it down, watching myself in the mirror.
“Oh no,” I gasped—I could see my days-of-the-week underpants through my wet skirt. And I wasn’t even wearing the right day.
Insecurity level—ten.
I scoured the sink cabinets and drawers for a blow-dryer, rummaging through soaps and combs and air fresheners… but no blow-dryer. I tried flapping my skirt to get it to air dry, but that would take forever. I looked at my watch—it was nine thirty. I didn’t have to leave the party until close to midnight; that gave my skirt over two hours to air dry. I would have to hide out in a room in the meantime.
I peeked my head out the door. A couple of people stood at the top of the stairway arguing—some kind of boyfriend/girlfriend spat. I looked down the hall the other way. No one. I broke out of the bathroom and ran straight for the door at the end of the hallway. I went in, eased the door shut, and locked it.
“Hello,” someone said from behind me. I spun around to find Aidan sitting in a chair in the corner, his cell phone poised next to his ear. “What are you doing in here?” he asked me.
“I… I… um.” My hands shook. I moved them to cover my wet skirt and the Tuesday underpants now on display beneath it.
“Hey, Justin,” he continued to the person on the phone, “let me call you back later. Yeah. Later.” He set his cell phone on the table beside him. “Hi.” He turned his attention back to me.
“Um, hi.” I tried to keep my hands from shaking as I held them in front of me, hoping he wouldn’t notice my wet skirt and underpants. “I’m sorry to barge in here like this. I was just looking for someone.”
“Who?” he asked.
“Huh?” My stomach twisted into knots.
“Who were you looking for? Because I’m the only one in here.”
“Oh, I was looking for Brittany.” I hoped it didn’t sound like the blatant lie it was.
“I haven’t seen her,” he said. “She’s probably downstairs.”
“Yeah.” I nodded. “I’m sure you’re right.” I stood there, feeling more uncomfortable than I could ever recall, even more so than the time my mom made me enter the talent contest in fifth grade when my only talent was playing the triangle. It doesn’t sound all that great without the rest of the band. “Well, I’ll just go find her then.” I attempted to open the locked door without performing the crucial step of unlocking it first.
“You don’t have to go,” he said.
“You need to call your friend back.” I fiddled with the doorknob. I finally realized why I couldn’t open it and managed to get it unlocked.
“No, I don’t.” He stood up. “Why don’t we hang out?”
“Oh.” I released the doorknob and turned to face him. “Okay.”
Aidan walked over to the bed and sat down. “Come sit down.” He patted the spot beside him. I walked on quivering legs toward the bed and sat down, but not exactly where he had patted—a bit farther away. He closed the gap between us. “So,” his eyes scanned my face making me even more jittery, “someone told me you have a huge crush on me.”
I felt my face turn hot as the blood rushed
to my cheeks and my stomach contorted in a way I didn’t know possible. “Who?” I asked in a hoarse whisper.
He shrugged. “Just someone. Is it true?”
I sat there, frozen, staring at him. I didn’t know what to say. I could barely talk anyway.
“It’s okay.” He grinned. “I like you too.”
I took a deep breath. Exhaled. Get a hold of yourself.
“Yeah,” I said. “Someone told me that.”
He looked surprised. “Who?”
“Just someone.” My nervousness eased a bit, and I tried flashing him my most playful smile, which probably just made me look deranged. But instead of giving me a disgusted look, he smiled back.
“Did you just move here this year?” he asked.
My smile faded. “Move here?”
“Yeah. Where’d you go to school last year?”
I wanted the bed to fold up like a taco and crush me. “I went here.”
He looked befuddled. “You did? I don’t remember ever seeing you. How long have you been here?”
I took a deep breath. “Since my freshman year.”
“Really? That’s strange,” he mused to himself. “Wait a second. Did we go to middle school together?”
“Yes.”
“Were you a cheerleader then?”
“No.”
“Huh,” he said. “That’s strange. Well, anyway, I’m happy you’re here now.”
I’ve always been here, I thought. Here was the boy I had been in love with since seventh grade, and he didn’t even know who the heck I was. Sure, I had loved him secretly, from a safe distance, incognito, so as not to humiliate myself. I was humiliated anyway.
He reached over and put his hand around my neck. I twisted my skirt in my hands causing some water to dribble on the floor, and for a horrifying second I thought I was peeing myself. Aidan looked down. “Why are you wet by the way?”
“Oh, I… Ross ran into me with his beer, and I tried to wash it off.”
Aidan laughed. “That guy is such a jerk.”
My nervousness eased. “That’s actually why I ran into the room,” I confessed. “I was looking for somewhere I could dry off.”
“There might be a blow-dryer in the bathroom in here.” He pointed at a door near the corner of the room.
I sighed with relief. “Great. I’ll be right back.”
I hurried into the bathroom and shut the door. I turned to face myself in the mirror.
Just relax. Relax. Relax. Relax. I gave myself a goofy smile and spun around in a circle, being careful to cover my mouth with my hands in case I let out a squeal. Then I remembered why I was in there and looked through the cabinets, but there was no blow-dryer. Was everyone who lived in this house bald?
I checked my face, looking for the tiniest booger or eye goop, then left the bathroom. “No luck,” I said. I sat back down on the bed beside him. “So do you want to go back out to the party?”
He shook his head. “Nope.”
“So what do you want to do?”
And then… he kissed me. He kissed me and all reason, all rational thought—all thought, period—went out of my head. It was my first kiss. Well, actually my second, but I didn’t count that kiss with Will—Will, who was like my brother. Will, who I had shut out since the beginning of our junior year. Will, who had the sweetest way of getting me to laugh when I was upset.
So that night, at Cecelia’s Halloween party, my official first kiss was with the most popular boy in school, the boy I had been desperately infatuated with for four years, the boy I was sure I would end up happily married to with five kids. And not just my first kiss—that night, my first everything was with the most popular boy in school.
That stupid night.
Chapter 2
I stared at the beaker in front of me. I heard Mr. Jaworski rambling in the background of my mind but would have been unable to repeat any of what he said if someone later asked me. The last five weeks had been just like this—I heard things, but I didn’t hear them.
I turned the beaker around in my hands, running my fingers over the glass, the urge to throw it against the nearest wall building inside me.
“Lenna, did you hear anything I said?” Brittany’s irritated voice broke through my reverie.
“Huh?” I asked, dazed.
She shook her head. “What’s the matter with you?”
“Sorry, I was just spacing out.”
“As usual.” She rolled her eyes. “I asked you if you know how to do this titration lab because you didn’t take any notes about it.”
Noticing the lab worksheet for the first time, I picked it up from the table. A handful of notes in Brittany’s perfect bubble writing were scattered throughout. “Didn’t you take any notes?” I asked.
“Yes. Can’t you see them on the sheet?”
“This is all you took?”
She snatched the sheet out of my hand. “It’s a lot more than what you took, so don’t complain.”
“Look, I’m sure we can get this figured out. So we’re doing something with vinegar…” I trailed off, holding the bottle of vinegar in my hands. I opened the lid and smelled it, wincing at the acridity that filled my nose—it smelled like I felt.
“You’re spacing out again.” Brittany let out a dramatic sigh.
“Sorry.” It seemed the only thing I said anymore was sorry. And I was sorry. So very, very sorry.
“You’ve been acting weird lately. Cut it out, or people are going to think there’s something wrong with you.”
I nodded in agreement. “You’re probably right.” I picked up the lab sheet and struggled to read it. “I’m sure I can get through this,” I murmured. “I’m sure I can.”
“I sure hope so.” Brittany took out her compact to check her make-up. “Cause I don’t have a clue.”
Again, I nodded in agreement with her. She snapped her compact shut and sat there for the next forty minutes, observing my work as though she were my supervisor.
When the bell finally rang, she snatched up her backpack and left class without saying goodbye. That was fine—I wouldn’t have heard her anyway.
I picked up my own backpack just as Mr. Jaworski walked over to my table. “Did you guys get everything done?” he asked, arms folded in front of him.
“I think so.” I looked at the titration sheet.
“Is everything okay, Lenna?” he asked.
“Of course.”
“You seem kind of out of it lately. Normally, you’re really on top of things.”
“I think I’ve just had a bug or something.” I forced a smile. “I’m sure I’ll be feeling better soon.”
He smiled and patted my back. “I hope so. I don’t want your grade to suffer.”
I rushed out of the room, hoping to avoid any more discussion about my state of mind. And then, though it didn’t seem possible, my mood sank even lower; it was lunchtime, and I had forgotten to bring my lunch. I would have to go to the cafeteria to get something.
I ran shaky fingers through unwashed hair and gripped it at the scalp. I tried to convince myself I could go the day without eating, but I hadn’t been lying when I told Mr. Jaworski I wasn’t feeling well. My stomach had been queasy the last few days, and I knew not eating would only make it worse. Just as it felt as though I might rip my hair out, I released it and decided to go to the vending machine near the office.
I shuffled over that way, watching my feet, careful to avoid eye contact with anyone. I had probably logged about three minutes of solid eye contact over the last five weeks—three minutes over my goal. I finally reached the vending machine but nearly threw-up as I scanned over my options: licorice, gum, corn nuts, and a couple of nasty candy bars. My school was huge, and the vending machine got cleaned out as soon as it was stocked; it was definitely due to be restocked.
My stomach twisted as I made my way to the lunchroom. All I had to do was get an apple and a milk and leave. That’s all I had to do. So why did it feel like I was about to perf
orm the triangle in front of everyone?
I stepped through the large glass doors, my heart pounding. The roar of rowdy highschoolers crashed against my already aching head. I hurried to the food area, grabbed my milk and apple, and got into the long line. I fidgeted with my money, tapped my foot, and stared at the floor until I eventually made the mistake of glancing around the room.
My gaze landed on Brittany’s table. She was sitting next to Calvin and Cecelia. Calvin leaned over and kissed her. I shuddered. A bunch of the boys at the table, including Aidan, started laughing. I suspected they were laughing about me. I could never sit at that table again.
I felt eyes on me, inducing panic. Who was watching me? I had to get through this line. I focused my eyes on the cashier, willing her to move faster. I finally got to the front of the line.
“I just have an apple and a milk.” I slapped a five down on the counter and ran toward the large glass doors. I heard the cashier call after me, but I didn’t care about my change. Just before I reached safety, I felt someone grab my shirt. I shrieked and spun around, dropping my apple and sending it rolling under the nearest table.
It was Heather. “I’m sorry, Lenna.” She laughed. “I didn’t mean to startle you like that.” She reached under the table and handed me my apple.
“It’s okay.” I stared at the exit doors, longing for escape. “I’ll talk to you later.”
I tried to leave, but she stopped me. “Wait. Where are you going?”
“I have to go do some work at the library.”
“Oh.” She frowned. “Why don’t you come sit with me and Will? It feels like we haven’t seen you in months.”
“Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I’ve been really busy with school.”
“Too busy to come sit with us for a few minutes?” I didn’t look at her eyes, but I could hear the sadness in them. “We miss you.”
Panic grew in me as I started to cry. I turned away from her, hoping she wouldn’t see. “I miss you too,” I whispered and pushed through the glass doors.
~ ~ ~
The Day We Met Page 1
