Chapter Thirteen September 8
Chapter Thirteen
There’s a buzz in the halls. Friday morning, the end of the first week back.
Everyone else always seems so excited for the weekend, but not me.
At school, I’m free. I’m not looking over my shoulder every few seconds, afraid my father might overhear my words.
Read my face. Or worse, see what I’m doing and who I’m doing it with.
If only.
Starting tenth grade has felt like a fresh start.
I never had a chance last year to be anyone but “that pregnant girl’s younger sister.
” It’s not like I was ostracized (at least, not in any obvious way) but the heaviness of Georgie’s decision loomed over me and created this identity I never asked for.
And now I’m free to explore the things I want without an audience. Well, freer.
John and I haven’t texted since the kiss.
No calls.
Nothing.
When we have seen each other at school this week, it’s only been from afar. A fleeting moment when our eyes meet. A head nod that says, “Hi. I see you.” And also, “Stay where you are.”
Maybe Andie was right and the story I’ve built up in my mind is just a fantasy. At least in my head, I can control the ending.
“How’s your schedule?” John appears, as if out of nowhere, leaning against the locker next to mine. His hair is freshly washed and his clothes, well, they’re wrinkled as usual.
“It’s not bad,” I say, coolly. Keep it together. “English. Math. Lunch. Phys Ed. Music. Yours?”
“It fucking sucks.” He smiles, and my eyes move to his lips. Those lips I kissed only eight days ago. “Math. Science. Lunch. Phys Ed. English.”
“Phys Ed third period? I haven’t seen you in the gym,” I say, trying to figure out what to do with my hands now that I’m done fiddling with my lock.
“That’s because Mr. Healy is making us run the outdoor track every day. He wants to take advantage of the nice weather. He also said sharing the gym with the girls might be too ‘overstimulating’ for some of us.” John’s eyes linger on mine as a tiny smile slips out. “He may have a point.”
That was definitely something.
“And what does he say about those who don’t identify as a boy or a girl?
” Why do I do this? Why do I start conversations neither of us has the time to get into?
My entire body pulses and I swallow as a prolonged and very awkward silence stretches between us.
I wonder if he still thinks about the kiss.
“I don’t think we have any non-binary people in our class?” John finally responds, a little unsure.
“But in all the school?” Why do I keep pressing?
“I guess it’s up to them where they feel more comfortable participating. You bring up a good point, though. Why do we still have gendered Phys Ed classes?”
“Because people like my father exist,” I say bluntly.
A sudden and kind of loud laugh escapes from John.
“Since we have Phys Ed at the same time, we should go together.” The words come out so fast, I don’t even remember thinking them first. “I mean, whatever. If you’re around.” I let out a flirtatious smile, or at least what I think is a flirtatious smile. It’s possible I look constipated.
“Whatever.” A playful smile dances on his lips as he presses his finger to my shoulder. That’s what I get after eight days of no communication? A finger to my shoulder?
The first bell rings and students rush past us, their bodies grazing ours, bumping and separating me and John.
“I’m heading downstairs,” I say.
“I’m just down the hall.” He nods past me.
I nod back and we part ways. With slow, heavy footsteps I become lost in thought. He never responded directly to my proposal. Was I too forward in asking him to walk me to class? Too desperate?
My phone buzzes in my back pocket. I pull it out to see a text from John. My first official text from him. I’ll meet you at your locker after lunch.
Before I can react or reply, Andie appears and pulls on my arm. “What’re you doing just standing here? Come on.”
I didn’t tell Andie about my plans to meet John at my locker. Just said I had to grab my gym bag before class. I don’t even have a gym bag.
Not wanting to wait around at my locker and come off as too desperate, I spend more time than I need to in the restroom before meeting him.
The amount of planning and scheming and overthinking I’ve had to do just to get the boy I like to walk beside me to the worst class imaginable should be studied.
My heart bursts when I come down the hall to see him leaning against my locker. He showed up. And he is just so effortlessly chill. Not to mention so, so good-looking. Those words don’t even do him justice. I love how tall he is, his long hair and that easy smile.
“Ready?” he asks, straightening.
“For Phys Ed? As ready as one can be, I suppose.” We make our way down the hall.
“What’re you doing this weekend?”
“Paulie’s baptism. You?”
“We’ve got band practice tomorrow. Might head to Theo’s tonight. His mom is back from Greece and she brought me treats. I gave him shit, by the way.”
“For what?” I ask as we head down the stairs together.
“For what he said to you about me. Us.”
Us?
“Oh.” I nod. “And what did he say?”
We stop in front of the girls’ changeroom, and John falls silent as his eyes connect with mine. “He was unapologetic. He went on about how you’re not my typical type and that he felt sorry for you.”
“Wow. He is an asshole.” We both laugh.
“I still think it’s because he likes you and he’s trying to keep us away from one another.”
As we stand, mere inches apart, I can’t help but let a smile slip out. “He’s clearly doing a good job of that.”
“A very good job.”
“Speaking of—”
“I know,” John cuts in. “Why didn’t I call or text you after Theo’s party.”
“I didn’t either,” I say, choosing this moment to assert my feminism. “Actually,” I go on, before he can say something that will make me lose my nerve, “can you drive me home?”
“Don’t you take the bus?”
“I do. But I want to ask you something.”
“Ask me now,” he says, taking a step so he’s standing even closer. Close enough that I can feel heat radiating off his body.
“I want to ask you in private,” I say, meeting his intense and curious gaze.
He grins, looking off to the side before locking eyes again.
“I’ll meet you in the parking lot. Okay?” I say, gripping the straps of my backpack like they’re stress balls.
He doesn’t respond instantly. Instead, he studies me for a moment that feels like forever but also, somehow, fleeting.
He leans in and murmurs in a low, gravelly voice, “Yes, ma’am.
” His words and hot breath trickle in my ear, all the way to my toes, and because I’m the least cool person ever, I take a clumsy step backward.
To hide how flustered I am, I bring my finger up and give his shoulder a tap, but he cups his hand around my wrist and pulls me in. My eyes focus on the fading but mesmerizing scar on his lip.
“Enigma,” he says quietly before releasing me.
To John I’m an enigma, but to me, he is the sun, the moon, and all the stars.
My entire body is jelly. I open the door of the girls’ changeroom with my back, with John’s eyes glued to mine until I’m inside.
Okay.
Breathe.
Okay? OKAY.
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I hide inside the bathroom stall so I can have my stimming freak-out in private. Flailing hands. Racing heart. Rocking back and forth. My water bottle falling into the toilet.
“Shit!”
“Are you okay in there?” a girl calls out.
I stop myself from flapping my hands and cover my mouth. “I’m good.”
“Okay,” the girl says. I wait until her footsteps fall silent and the door to the gym closes.
I stare down at the toilet. There’s not enough soap or hot water in the world to make this okay. “Sorry, buddy,” I say as I pull the bottle out by its untainted lid. “This is where we part ways.”
After school, John texted to say he’d be a couple of minutes late.
His English teacher wanted to speak to him.
The anticipation of his arrival might possibly kill me.
The green metal back door of the school finally opens, and my heart skips a beat (or a hundred) as he steps outside.
The parking lot is completely deserted and I’m unsure where to look as he makes his way to his car, and me, so I pretend to be enthralled by something on my phone.
“Sorry about that,” he says, slightly out of breath when he reaches me. “Mr. Pine is a dick.”
I laugh. “Can confirm. I had him last year. But he’s easy to please.”
“In what ways?” he asks. I can’t tell if he’s being suggestive or wants me to actually answer.
“By completing your homework,” I state, in a matter-of-fact tone.
John squints at me as he unlocks his car doors, then he tosses his bag into the back seat. I keep mine with me, tucked between my legs on the floor of his car. His car is old. Dirty. Incredibly dusty. But it smells like him.
He sits, slams his door, tilts his head back, and releases a loud, suffering sigh. “I just got a one-day extension on some stupid Hamlet essay. He expects me to email it to him tomorrow morning. Saturday! First week of school and I’m already behind.”
“At least he gave you an extension.”
“What difference does a day make when you didn’t read the play? I couldn’t keep up in class. The guy moves at warp speed.”
I spring into fix-it mode. “Do you have Hamlet with you?”
He nods and twists to his back seat, pulling it from his bag.
“What’s the essay topic?” I ask, taking it from him and quickly flipping through the pages.
“We have to write about his famous ‘to be or not to be’ speech and the significance behind it.”
I roll my eyes at how basic this assignment is. “That’s easy enough.”
“It is?”
“Sure. I can help.”
“You’ve read it?” he asks.
“Yeah. I took Advanced English last year. The thing about these Shakespeare texts is that the pages on the left side decode what Shakespeare is saying. It’s basically a cheat sheet and road map to your essay.”
“I didn’t realize you took advanced courses.”