Chapter 10
Ash
On a scale of one to ten, I felt like a negative four hundred.
Over the past few days, I’d been taking care of my mother, only to be lucky enough to catch her flu, too.
I missed two days of school. Maa made me soup to help me feel better, and Dad checked in on me whenever he was home.
I knew it was silly, but I was thankful for being sick.
For those two days, my parents were back and looking after me.
A part of me wanted to stay sick longer just so I could have them around.
During that time, Dad talked about sports and how he was thinking of adding a half bathroom in the basement. I told him I’d help with the project if he wanted me to. He smiled big and said he’d love my help when I felt better. I liked when he smiled. It didn’t happen often anymore.
Even though I was looking forward to helping my father, Maa wasn’t as thrilled with all the renovations.
The other day, I heard my parents fighting about all the home improvements Dad had been making.
Maa said he was spiraling and turning our house into a construction site.
Dad said he was building up the property value.
I didn’t know why it mattered that the property value would go up, seeing as how Maa always said this would be our forever home, but I never added to their conversation.
Dad dealt with his feelings by saving lives and hammering stuff.
Maa dealt with hers by arguing with Dad.
I dealt with mine by visiting the cemetery. We all had our vices.
On day three, I was back at school, even though I still felt awful.
Maa said she didn’t want me falling behind too much on homework.
As I dragged my feet into first period, I deflated into my desk with about five pounds of perspiration falling from my forehead.
I wore a black sweatsuit because I had been freezing my ass off.
At some point I’d probably rip the sweatshirt off because I’d be too damn hot.
Rian always wore black hoodies. I started to after he passed away. One of the odd things I did to feel as if he was still close by.
That morning, it took me way longer than normal to get to my class.
I swore I spent a solid ten minutes trying to remember my locker combination.
My sweaty palm stayed in the pocket of my hoodie as I tossed the toy truck around in my hand.
That toy truck brought me comfort in the same way a weighted blanket probably helped others.
“You look awful,” Karla said as she slipped into her desk in front of me. She wore her signature black wardrobe, and wet hair hung in front of her face. Her classic “Don’t look at me, don’t talk to me, don’t notice me” attire.
It really brought out her eyes.
“I feel worse than I look,” I said as I wiped the sleeve of my hoodie across my damp forehead.
Karla turned to face me more. I liked when she did that—it made our one-sided friendship seem like something she, too, was interested in. “Why are you at school if you’re sick?”
“Can only miss so many days.”
“I skipped school for weeks. Trust me, you could’ve missed a few more.”
“If only I was a rebel like you.”
“Yeah, well, not everyone can be a wild child like me.”
“I like your wild, child.”
I could’ve been wrong, but I swore it looked as if she almost smiled. “You’re a dork.”
I grinned. “Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“Felt like one to me.”
She almost smiled again. “You’re so weird.”
I liked when she called me names. It felt slightly playful, and I enjoyed the thought of a playful Karla.
She continued talking. That didn’t happen often, so I hung on to every word. “My dad used to say the same thing whenever someone was snappy with him. He’d just smile and say thank you, leaving the other people confused.”
I chuckled. “Gotta keep them on their toes.” I sniffled and wiped my forehead with my sleeve again. “Are you close with your dad?”
“No,” she dryly replied before she started shifting away from me. Her response was short, cold. Shoot . . . I pushed a little too hard.
I leaned forward and whispered, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to ask personal questions. I know you don’t like getting personal. I’ll stay the opposite of personal. I’ll be very public with our interactions.”
Before she turned to face forward, I saw a full smile creep across her face.
This dork made Karla East smile.
This dork really liked Karla East’s smile, too.
I took that as a win.
* * *
The next day when I made it to class, I saw a paper coffee cup, a bag of cough drops, and a pack of Kleenex on my desk.
Karla was already sitting at her desk, and her shoulders were hunched forward. She was writing in a notebook, scribbling away as if she didn’t see me enter the room.
I sat down at my desk and arched an eyebrow.
“Did you do this?” I asked Karla.
She shrugged her shoulders and didn’t look back at me. “I figured it would be better than listening to you cough all class.”
“You’re never in class before me.”
“I asked Ellie to drop me off early.”
“Who is Ellie?” I asked.
She sat straighter and glanced back at me before going back to her slouching position to write. “A family friend,” she said.
“Well, either way, thanks.” I smiled before almost coughing up a lung. I reached for the tea. Right as I took a sip, I almost spit it straight into the air. “It’s spicy! Why is it spicy?!”
Karla snickered a little bit, and it was almost enough to make me forget I just drank poison.
“It’s medicinal tea. My mom used to make it whenever we’d get sick. It’s . . . nasty.”
“It’s beyond nasty.” I took another sip and hated it. “Tell me more.”
She turned to face me, and I swore her eyes were brighter that morning.
Her hair still dangled in her face, but that didn’t make her any less beautiful.
A part of me wanted to tell her that she was beautiful, too.
The kind of beautiful that people wrote songs about.
But I doubted she’d believe me, plus I swore to keep things public between us.
Calling her beautiful felt a little too personal.
“It has two green tea packets, black pepper, cayenne pepper, turmeric, ginger, a squeeze of lemon, and a dash of honey. It will kill any virus fast, as long as you drink it.”
I grimaced. “The whole thing?”
“The whole thing.”
I took another big sip.
I hated every second of it.
“Thanks, Karla.”
“Welcome, Ash.” She turned back to face forward, and I popped a cough drop into my mouth after drinking the disgusting tea.
Lo and behold, I coughed a lot less that morning.
I spent all of class staring at the back of Karla’s head, wondering why this girl—who hardly liked me—liked me enough to make me special tea so I’d feel better.
I felt like calling her beautiful again, but I didn’t.
Public, not personal, Ash.
But she was beautiful, the kind of beautiful that most people overlooked. My brother would’ve noticed it, though. Rian would’ve taken a million photographs of her, and they would’ve been my favorite pictures that he’d ever taken.
* * *
After class, I gathered up my items, moving a bit slower than normal. Karla beat me out of the classroom and looked in my direction. She smiled a little. “It’s kind of nice to have someone moving slower than I do,” she half-joked.
I cleared my throat before almost coughing up another lung. I tossed two cough drops into my mouth. “Everything hurts and I feel like I’m dying,” I complained. She laughed at me.
She laughed at me.
It sounded so good, too. I kind of hoped she’d laugh at me some more.
“Welcome to the club,” she said, nudging me. She touched me.
She touched me!
That felt even better than her laugh. My whole body warmed from the slight touch. Whoa. I hadn’t felt that feeling before.
I’d dated two girls at my old school, but they never made my stomach flip like Karla just had.
The other two girls were nice. They were pretty, too, like Karla.
But I never felt tingling from their touches.
I never felt as if I wanted the touch to linger.
I never felt the urge to hug them, or to talk to them all the time.
They didn’t stay on my mind after we stopped hanging out.
It was different with Karla. Whenever she wasn’t around, she was at the forefront of my mind. When we were together, I wished that she’d nudge me or accidentally brush up against me again and again.
“Where do you go for lunch?” I asked as we walked in the direction of Karla’s locker.
“What?”
“You haven’t been back to the cafeteria since Colton was a dick. Do you go to the cemetery to eat or something? Because I will join you for picnics in the cemetery if that’s what you’re into.”
“You’re so weird, Ash,” she said.
“Thank you,” I said playfully. She laughed again. “So . . . ?” I asked.
“I don’t go to the cemetery. I’d never make it back without being late to class. I just go sit with . . . a friend.”
I arched an eyebrow. “A friend?”
“Yes. A friend.”
“A better friend than me?”
“No. Just a different kind of friend. An older, more mature friend.”
I paused my footsteps. “You’re eating with a teacher, aren’t you?”
“What? Pshh. No. That would be so uncool,” she said a little too nonchalantly.
I pointed a stern finger her way. “Yes, you are! Which teacher?”
“I’m not telling you,” she replied as she kept on to her locker.
I caught myself moving a little faster than her.
I slowed my steps.
“Can I eat with you?” I asked.
She arched an eyebrow. “No, Ash. It’s weird to eat lunch with teachers.”
“If I remember correctly, you called me weird about”—I checked the invisible watch on my wrist—“two and a half minutes ago. It sounds like lunch with teachers could be right up my alley.”
She didn’t reply, but she also didn’t tell me to piss off. I called that a win.
“Shouldn’t you be getting to your next class?” she asked as we reached her locker.
I glanced at my invisible watch one more time. “Ah, shoot, yeah. I guess I’ll see you at lunch?”
She giggled. It was softer than her last laugh. Cuter. Shy, even. “You won’t see me at lunch.”
I pursed my lips and nodded. “So I’ll probably see you at lunch.”
“Probably not.”
“But maybe?”
She grinned. That felt like a maybe.
“Bye, Ash,” she said. A shy smile found her. That was a new kind of smile that she gave me. Then she said, “Mrs. Rivers. I won’t tell you where her class is. You’ll have to figure that out on your own.”
“I’m a mastermind at figuring things out.”
“If you show up, you have to be OK with me ignoring you.”
“Oh, that’s fine. I’m already used to being ignored by you.”
She smiled, again.
She didn’t say anything else as she walked off toward her next class. I watched her leave for a little longer than I should’ve. I was officially late for my next class, but I didn’t care because I had cough drops for my throat—and Karla’s smile on my mind.
* * *
When lunchtime came, I gathered my tray of food, then headed to Mrs. Rivers’s classroom. I didn’t have her as a teacher myself, and it took all of study hall hour to figure out where her classroom was, using a bathroom pass to walk up and down the hallways, but I found it.
I knocked on the open door twice, and Mrs. Rivers looked toward me from her desk. “Hi there, can I help you?” she asked.
“Ah, yeah. I’m Ash. I was looking for a desk to eat my lunch at,” I replied.
I stepped into the classroom and glanced around to find Karla sitting at the desk closest to the windows. She held half of a sandwich in her left hand and a book in her right. When she looked up, her face turned beet-red before she looked toward Mrs. Rivers.
“I’m sorry, I’m confused,” Mrs. Rivers stated, setting her own book and sandwich down.
“Karla mentioned that she ate here, and she said that if I figured out . . .” My words faded off because I felt a little stupid for showing up to this random teacher’s classroom.
I wasn’t one to get nervous normally, but for some reason, having both Mrs. Rivers’s and Karla’s eyes on me shook me up a little.
“He’s a friend of mine and he had no one to eat with in the cafeteria,” Karla chimed in.
Mrs. Rivers’s eyes widened with surprise. “A friend?” she asked.
Clearly Mrs. Rivers was stunned by this development.
“Yes,” Karla stated. “A friend. Is it OK if he eats here? Don’t worry, we’ll both read.”
“I don’t have a book to read,” I confessed.
Mrs. Rivers nodded toward the back corner of her classroom. “I’m an English teacher, Ash. You’ll always find books here. You can grab any one from the shelf back there.”
I did as she said, grabbing a thriller, and then took a seat next to Karla. I glanced at the book in her hand and arched an eyebrow. “Is that a romance novel?” I questioned. “I didn’t take you as a romance girl.”
“It’s not a romance. It’s a love story. Two very different things. A romance has a happy ending; a love story does not. Anyway, be quiet, read, and eat your lunch.”
I opened my book and dove into my slice of pizza from the cafeteria. After the lunch period ended, all three of us closed our books. I stood in front of my desk and waited to walk out with Karla.
“A friend, huh?” I asked.
She grimaced. “Don’t make a big deal out of it, Ash.”
But it was a big deal to me.
My chest felt tight.
The backs of my eyes stung.
A friend.
I hadn’t had one of those since my brother died.