by Noelle Marie
“How to Kill a Mockingbird,” he reiterated, glancing at her like she was the one being purposefully obtuse. “Let’s do that one.”
“Oh. Alright.” She had no objections; she was fond of Harper Lee’s classic tale. “Have you read it before?”
Before Heath could answer, the sound of the back door pulling against its hinges, followed by loud barking and nails scraping against wood echoed throughout the room. Emma had completely forgotten about Sawyer. She’d let him out in the yard while she made her dad’s sack lunch. If she hadn’t, there would have been no sack lunch to speak of.
“That’s just my dog,” she assured Heath. “I better go let him in. I’ll be right back.”
Half a minute later, Sawyer bounded in the house, scurrying past her as fast as his legs could move his admittedly hefty body. He beat her to the living room, and Emma fought the urge to laugh at the scene she came upon.
Sawyer had jumped onto the couch and his snout was pressed into Heath’s stomach as he begged the boy for attention. Heath himself was as stiff as a board, hands in the air and positioned on either side of his head like he’d been caught in a stick-up.
His mouth pulled into a taut frown when he caught sight of her grin, which she hastily fought to hide. “This is not a dog,” he objected. “This is a monstrosity with fur.”
Emma couldn't hold back her laugh now and allowed it to bubble up her throat. “Sawyer’s harmless, aren’t you, boy? Come here, leave poor Heath alone. You’re scaring him.”
Sawyer obeyed, the yellow lab carefully lowering himself to the ground before walking to his owner. His tongue lulled out of his mouth as she scratched him behind the ears.
“I wasn’t afraid,” Heath objected tersely. “Just disturbed that you call an animal of his…considerable girth… a pet.”
Emma rolled her eyes, but her smile stayed glued to her face. “He’s perfectly friendly.”
“Too friendly,” Heath grunted. “And in my sophomore year.”
Emma frowned, sitting back on the couch and allowing Sawyer to lay at her feet. “In your sophomore year, what?”
“To Kill a Mockingbird. You asked if I’ve read it before. I got through half of it my sophomore year, but had to move schools before I had a chance to finish it.”
Emma bit her bottom lip, her sharp teeth digging into the tender flesh as she thought about the possible reasons why he had had to move. She wondered if he’d been in foster care then too. “Oh. Well, I think it’s a great choice for our project. I actually have a copy of it somewhere in my room, I think. You can burrow it if you want. And as you re-familiarize yourself with the text, I’ll start setting up an outline for our report.”
Heath frowned. “Yeah, sure, if you don’t mind, I guess.”
“Not at all,” Emma assured him, ecstatic that they might actually be able to get some work done that afternoon. She hadn’t expected to get much of anything finished except for picking the topic of their report.
Emma found To Kill a Mockingbird squeezed between two other novels on the overflowing bookshelf in her room. She brought it downstairs, and for a while she and Heath managed to work in an awkward sort of silence wherein the only noises that permeated the room were the sounds of Heath’s nimble fingers deftly turning pages and Sawyer’s tail rhythmically thumping against the couch. After a half hour had passed, however, the oppressive silence had become too much for Emma and she stood from her place on the couch. “Do you want to watch a movie?” The question had tumbled out of her mouth before she’d truly even thought of the connotations behind it. Heath was only there to study, after all.
Heath glanced up from To Kill a Mockingbird at her abrupt movement and blinked stupidly at the question. Emma fought a heated blush from taking over her face when it became apparent that Heath hadn’t thought the silence they’d been sitting in awkward at all. She felt like a dolt for interrupting him and jolting him out of Scout Finch’s head. “Uh, I mean, it’ll provide some background noise. I concentrate better with it.”
Heath shrugged. “Whatever you want.”
Hurrying to peruse the meager collection of DVDs she and her father had stored in one of the cabinets of the television stand, Emma mentally face palmed when she realized about ninety percent of the collection was comprised of movies from her childhood.
“The Lion King?” she asked, only half kidding as she peeked over her right shoulder. It was her absolute favorite.
Heath’s brows drew together in a frown. “Never seen it.”
It was a testimony of Emma’s self-control that she managed to keep her jaw from dropping. “You’ve never seen The Lion King?” she demanded. “The movie was a staple of my childhood! I didn’t realize that there was anyone left on the planet who hadn’t seen it.”
Heath’s jaw noticeably tightened, the hard lines of it growing somehow shaper as he avoided her disbelieving gaze. “Well, I haven’t,” he reiterated frankly.
It was a stark reminder that Emma knew absolutely nothing about Heath’s childhood. Except that he’d somehow ended up in the foster care system. For all she knew, he could’ve been in the system for years already. Maybe even before he could walk or talk, let alone have the attention span to sit down and watch a movie.
Attempting to force away the questions that buzzed in her head and the heaviness she could suddenly feel where her heart was supposed to be, Emma busied herself by popping The Lion King into the DVD player. “Well, that settles it then,” she said, making an attempt to lighten the mood. “I cannot condone such ignorance of a Disney classic. It would be downright immoral of me to let you leave this house without seeing it.”
Emma sat back on the couch and tried to make her buzzing mind focus on the movie as The Circle of Life began blaring out of the television’s speakers. At least she had attempted to focus until Heath opened his mouth and revealed himself to be the absolute worst person to watch a movie with ever.
“Am I watching a lion get baptized?” he demanded.
Emma sighed. “Yeah, pretty much.”
…
“You did not just make me watch a lion murder his brother in cold blood. What the hell? I thought you said this was a kid’s movie.”
Emma sniffed, trying in vain to hide the sheen of tears in her eyes as she attempted to answer him.
“Are you crying?” Heath sounded horrified.
“No!” Emma denied immediately, furiously wiping her eyes before the tears gathering there could fall. “And shush, this is an emotional scene.”
She was shocked when instead of teasing her, Heath scooted closer. His shoulder bumped against hers in what Emma assumed to be a masculine display of comfort. He remained by her side, and Emma spent the rest of the movie trying to keep a blush at bay as his leg stayed steadfastly pressed against hers.
…
His blatant skepticism of the film made it easier to forget the heat of his body next to hers. “I doubt Simba would have grown to be that large on a diet of bugs. For Christ’s sake, he’s a lion. He needs to eat meat.”
“Heath. It’s a movie. A movie about animated lions. For the last time, can’t you please suspend your disbelief?”
“I’m just saying.”
…
“You didn’t tell me there was a sex scene in this. Again, I reiterate that I thought this movie was for kids.”
“God, Heath, Nala thought Simba was dead, and he hasn’t seen her for years. They’re just cuddling, which is totally warranted under the circumstances. There’s no… love making going on whatsoever.”
“Are you not listening to the lyrics? I mean, they’re straight out asking us if we can feel the love tonight. Pretty sure Simba’s getting some.”
“…Shut up.”
….
Emma would never admit to being as disappointed as she was when the credits began to roll. She snuck a glance at Heath, who was frowning at the screen.
“Well… did you like it?” She didn't know anyone who would dare say they didn’t.
“Well, the rain at the end sure was a convenient way to end the drought that suddenly began when Scar took over as king. I mean, all things considered, was it really his fault that food was scarce?”
Emma’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re defending Scar?” she demanded incredulously.
The corner of Heath’s mouth quirked up to form a half grin. “You’re awfully invested in what’s only a movie.”
Emma fought the urge to pout. Seriously, Scar had killed who was arguably the most magnificent character to ever exist. At least in the world of Disney.
Heath rolled his eyes. “Fine, Scar was awful, alright? And the movie wasn’t half bad. You know, for a kid’s movie.”
Emma couldn't have stopped the smile from spreading across her face if she’d tried. “You liked it,” she accused him.
Before he could respond, Emma’s stomach chose that exact moment to let out an embarrassingly loud growl. She glanced at the time. “It’s nearly three. I think I’m going to make myself a snack. Do you want something?” She wasn’t as keen on killing him with her brownies as she had been before. Maybe she could dig out some Pop-tarts or nab one of the sleeves of Girl Scout cookies her father liked to hide in the cupboard directly above the stove.
“Uh, no, that’s okay,” Heath declined, looked troubled by the time as he stared at the clock under the television. “I’m going to be late if I don’t get going.”
Emma tried not to let the disappointment she felt swirling in her belly show on her face as she watched him hastily shove his arms into the coat he had discarded earlier on the arm of the sofa. “Oh.”
Unfortunately, she didn’t think she succeeded in disguising it from her voice.
Heath looked at her, a frown pulling at his mouth. “It’s not that I don’t want to stay, it’s just that...” he grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck in obvious discomfort. “It’s just that I’ve got to work,” he finally said. “I’m still trying to pay off the car that Mr. and Mrs. Potter bought for me.”
It sounded perfectly plausible. But that didn’t stop the sick feeling that Heath was lying to her from settling in Emma’s gut. It wasn’t her place to call him out on anything, however, so she just nodded. “Okay.”
“Yeah,” he agreed, glancing at the front door.
“Maybe we should exchange phone numbers.” The suggestion shot out of her mouth before she could question it. “So we can schedule another time to work on our project,” she hastily added.
Heath shot her an amused smirk. “Why, Emma, here I thought you didn’t like me.”
Emma huffed. “Be quiet and give me your number, would you?”
She was surprised when instead of continuing to tease her, he did just that. She quickly typed it into her cell phone and gave his phone a call so that he would have her number too.
Without further ado, she walked him to the door. “Thanks for inviting me over,” he said quietly after a moment. The words were almost… shy. “It wasn’t that awful.”
Or maybe not.
Emma watched as he walked down her front steps. Before he could reach his car, however, she found herself calling out to him, almost against her will. “Hey, Heath!”
He stopped and turned.
Emma bit her lip. “Why… why didn’t you want to work with me?”
Heath sighed, running a hand through his mused hair. “It’s not that I didn’t want to work with you.” He took a stepped towards her. “I guess I just figured that you wouldn’t want to work with me. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not exactly the easiest person to get along with, and we didn’t exactly get off to a good start.”
At least he was self-aware.
“Well, you were obviously wrong,” Emma pointed out reasonably. “About me not wanting to work with you anyway. I mean, there’s definitely room for improvement when it comes to your… communication… skills, but I practically cornered you at your job. Clearly, I do want to work with you.”
Heath snorted, but Emma was pleased to see a small grin form on his mouth before he could hide it. “I guess you’re right,” he acquiesced. He lingered for a moment longer before glancing once at his car and then back at her. “I’ll see you, Emma.”
Emma watched him until he reached his Chevy, finally shutting the front door when he threw himself into the driver’s seat of the vehicle. “Bye,” she offered quietly as she stared at the closed door, her eyes tracing the intricate designs engrained into the wood. The patterns were as beautiful but complex as the boy who’d just left her house.
CHAPTER SIX
Emma stared at the cheesy piece of cardboard otherwise known as the school cafeteria pizza. Puddles of grease pooled between shreds of mozzarella and cheddar. Unappetizing as it looked, it was still probably the tastiest thing they served at Maple Valley High and so she grudgingly took a bite.
She flinched when Collette, who was sitting in her regular spot on Emma’s right, flicked a finger against her ear.
“Hey!” Emma complained, rubbing the stinging appendage. “What was that for?”
Collette eyed her in disbelieving exasperation. “Oh, I don’t know, Emma. I’ve only said your name ten times or so in the past minute, but I guess you were too busy staring forlornly into the grease puddles of your pizza to notice. Honestly, what is up with you lately?”
Emma hunched into herself defensively. “Nothing.”
If she’d been paying more attention she would have seen Collette exchange a mischief-filled glance with Luca. “Oh, I see. You’re still pining over the new boy.”
Emma nearly choked on her own spit. “What? No! First of all, I am not pining over anybody.”
Luca grinned. “Okay, mooning then.”
“Or mooning!” she contradicted him. “And secondly, Heath’s been here for about a month now. I think you guys can stop calling him the new boy.”
“Okay,” Collette agreed easily enough. “So Heath isn’t the reason you’ve been such a grouch this week?”
“No.” She knew she didn’t sound very convincing, however, and buried her undoubtedly burning face into her hands.
“Hey, I don’t blame you, Emma. Heath’s cute. And if some guy cuddled with me while watching Disney movies, I’d be hooked too.”
Emma groaned. She never should have told her friend about Saturday. “Collette, you know we didn’t cuddle,” she protested, finally lifting her face from her hands.
“Yeah, but you were sitting on the same couch. And your legs were touching,” she teased.
“Legs touching? I hope you used protection, Emma,” Luca chimed in.
Emma threw a half-decayed cabbage leaf at him. “Have I ever told you guys how much you suck?”
“All the time,” Luca assured her.
“At least once a week,” Collette agreed. “But seriously, since when have you ever pouted over a guy? Here I was starting to think you were asexual.”
Emma glared as her two friends dissolved into laugher. “I’m not pouting,” she denied. “It’s just…” She and Heath hadn’t even talked since Saturday. He hadn’t made an effort to talk to her in class. There’d been no texts or calls to her phone. Heath had clotheslined Gunther yesterday during Phy. Ed. after the jock had pretended to grope her during a game of capture the flag, but Emma had told herself firmly that she wasn’t going to read into that. After all, it could have been an accident. Even if Heath and Gunther had been on the same team.
“It’s just what?” Collette demanded and Emma realized she’d been caught up in thoughts of Heath. Again.
“Have you ever noticed that he’s never in the cafeteria for lunch?”
It wasn’t what she’d meant to say, but it was a true observation nonetheless.
“Huh?” Luca asked, blatantly searching the large, crowded room.
Collette frowned. “No. Not really, I guess. Weird.”
Emma hadn’t noticed either. At least not until earlier that week when she’d started to actively look for him. She’d thought that maybe he
’d been out sick on Monday until he’d shown up for American Literature right after. He’d been absent in the cafeteria on Tuesday too. It was now Wednesday and there was still no Heath to be seen. “Yeah.”
Her concern must have shown on her face, though, because Collette treated her to one of her patented “you’re testing my patience” smiles. “Oh, Emma, I’m sure he’s fine wherever he is. You’ve seen him. He’s not exactly starved looking if you know what I mean.” The redhead actually wiggled her eyebrows at her.
Emma sighed. Heath did have a nice physique. “Yeah, you’re right,” she agreed. And maybe Collette was right. But Emma had a stubborn streak a mile wide and she wasn’t quite willing to let the issue go.
* * *
The next day Emma was ready to put her haphazard plan into action. Rushing out of her Advanced Chemistry class – it was the course she had before lunch – Emma booked it in the direction of one of two other classes that seniors had at that time. Hoping she’d picked the right class (she’d ventured that Heath was more likely to take Civics than Public Speaking), she hid herself behind a hallway corner. Feeling like a complete stalker, she watched as her fellow seniors exited the room.
Ignoring the excitement that rushed through her when she spotted Heath, she followed him as inconspicuously as possible, making sure to leave at least two people between them at all times. She watched as he put his textbook away in his locker and replaced it with what appeared to be a sack lunch of sorts. Emma frowned when he also hauled his coat out of the metal contraption and shoved his arms through the appropriate holes. She continued to follow Heath as he made his way to one of the school’s exits – the one that led to the student parking lot.
Hesitating for just a moment, she followed him out the heavy double doors, making sure to silently close them behind her. The November sky was gray, and although it had yet to snow, it was well below freezing outside. An icy breeze caused her hair to dance and goosebumps to erupt across her bare arms. Ignoring the cold, she stealthily followed Heath to his car – the same red Chevy he’d driven to her house the weekend before. He opened the driver’s side door, and after sinking into what looked like a pliable leather seat, quickly shut it.
