by Lori L. Otto
CHAPTER 3 - EMI
Bad timing, again. It’s the story of my life. Was he flirting with me?
If I believed in fate and happily ever after and – hell, even love – I might be excited about this. He’s just my type... except for that whole arrogance thing. How does someone like that get to be so cocky, anyway? Sure, he’s cute, but he’s not all that. He’s too skinny to be all that. But his hair is cool... dark brown with reddish highlights. I don’t think that’s his real hair color, though. Hovering over his eyes are brows that are much lighter. The fuzz on his chin is almost blonde, too. And he has nice skin. And that smile. My stomach feels queasy, remembering his smile as I left the art room.
He smelled like cigarettes, though. I’m sure he thinks it looks cool. So, he’s just my type – except for the unexplained cockiness and the smoking. Already I’m lowering my standards.
I look for Nate Wilson in the rest of my classes, but it seems like art is the only period we share. Nate Wilson. Such an unassuming name. It’s not the name of someone with charisma and charm. Nate Wilson sits in the middle of the class, hoping no one calls on him. Nate Wilson doesn’t strike up conversations with girls who are trying to be as unapproachable as possible. Maybe it’s not his real name. I laugh under my breath at the way my imagination is already setting expectations for this guy I just met. Even if I wanted a boyfriend, this poor guy wouldn’t have a chance in hell. Nate Wilson doesn’t have girlfriends. This time, an audible giggle escapes, and a few people turn to look at me as I walk alone down the hallway.
My typical instinct is to focus on the ground as I walk, but I’m in a new school where no one knows me. Chris was trying to ‘reinvent’ himself here, and judging by the interest of some snotty girl named Amelia, he was achieving that. He’d encouraged me to do the same – if nothing else, to test our acting chops. We were both in drama at our old school. Neither of us signed up for the class here. We’d both seen enough drama for one year.
I look up, but can’t quite get the courage to look people in the eyes, so I look beyond them all, down the hallway. A girl in a sequined red top stands at the end, nearly blocking my view of him. She’s talking to an uninterested Nate Wilson, his gaze focused across the hall. Another girl puts things in a locker as a guy sneaks up behind her, putting his hands beneath the hem of her shirt and snaking his arms around her body. As I walk closer, I can see Nate narrow his eyes, watching the couple intently. His hand forms into a fist as his body tenses. I stop walking so I can try to process his reaction.
When the girl at the locker finally turns around, the other guy backs her into the wall, kissing her hard and fast. The expression on Nate’s face turns to one of disgust. The blonde in the sequined top puts her hand on Nate’s shoulder, as if she’s trying to comfort him. He shrugs her off quickly, walking with purpose in the opposite direction.
Maybe Nate Wilson does have a girlfriend. Or did.
I immediately feel bad for him, and start to follow him. I’m too far behind to catch him unless I run, and I’m not chasing any guy. I don’t know what I’d do if I caught up to him anyway. I’m not really sure why I want to. All I know is that since I left Jamie and Amelia in the office this morning, he’s the only other student who’s talked to me today. I never expected people to be nice to me here anyway. I wasn’t looking to make friends.
But maybe I’ll make one.
Nate Wilson needs a friend.
Someone taps me on the shoulder to get my attention. “You didn’t hear me?” my brother asks, stepping in my sightline.
“Huh?”
“I was calling your name. I thought you must have your headphones in.”
“No, I guess I’m just zoned out,” I explain. “I’m not used to being up for seven consecutive hours. I need a nap,” I joke with him.
“You made it through your first day. How was it?”
My answer is a simple shrug of my shoulders. “Some teachers gave me a bunch of homework from the past week. I thought we’d just start fresh today, but apparently they were expecting me Monday, and now I have to make up that time.”
“Of course you do,” my brother laughs. “Anyone offer to help you?”
“With what?”
“Your homework.”
I scoff at his suggestion. “No one even talked to me today. What, did you make friends on day one?”
“Yeah,” he laughs. “Maybe you’re not trying hard enough.”
“I can guarantee that’s it,” I respond to him, my nostrils flaring. “I’m not trying at all.”
“Em, this will be much more difficult if you keep up this wall. Just let your guard down a little. People here are nice.”
“Oh,” I remember the girl from this morning. “Whatever you do, don’t ask out a girl named Amelia.”
“Amelia Jones?”
“I don’t know. Black hair? Witchy fingernails?” My brother laughs at my description and nods. “She was a bitch to me this morning.”
“She was very nice to me my first day,” he counters.
“Shocking!” I say sarcastically. “Promise me?”
“You’re using your veto power early on. You know we agreed on one person every six months. We just started a new year.”
“I am. Amelia is officially vetoed.”
“She was the first person I met.”
“You’ll meet others.”
“Well, I’ll make sure to veto the first guy you meet... just to be fair.”
“Don’t waste your veto,” I remind him. “Guys are cheating assholes. I don’t want anything to do with them.” I bite the inside of my lip, angry again. Chris puts his arm around me and starts to lead me out of the school building. “I hate our father,” I tell him softly.
“I know,” my brother responds. “I do, too. But you know, he’s already done enough damage. Don’t allow him to do any more. Don’t give him that control.”
“She loved him. With all her being, she loved him and would have done anything for him,” I blurt out to Chris. “How does a man take that affection – that adoration – and still look elsewhere? For more? It will never make sense to me.”
Love is complicated, Emily. That was my father’s explanation to me, but I disagreed with him. It shouldn’t be. It should be easy and effortless. Lust complicated it. Betrayal. Selfishness. Those are all things I thought were independent of love.
But they aren’t. Dad taught me they can all live together in the black heart of a deceitful man. If it could happen to my parents – if it could happen to a man who’d been a constant husband to a beautiful and faithful woman for twenty-four years and a good father to three kids – it could happen to anyone. It could happen to anyone without any warning. How could I ever trust any man? If not Dad, who can I trust?
I hate my father.
