Continuum (12 page)

The shrill ringing of the second bell carries through the forest and his head snaps toward the school.  He glances over once more before hesitantly turning away from where I am standing and heads back toward the school.  As soon as he is out of sight, my legs give out and I sink to the ground.  A slow, shuddering breath fills my lungs and the oxygen helps clear my head, at least partially. 

Even as my breathing returns to normal, there is a hollow feeling in my chest.  I feel stupid for letting myself get caught up in this boy.  I feel stupid for almost exposing the fact that I was caught up in him.  I feel stupid because I just can't seem to resist whatever it is that I find so appealing.  I can't help but feel like they are the emotions of a stranger.  What am I going to do with myself?

I stare into the empty grove of trees and Ethan invades my thoughts.  The clarity of his blue eyes, always so inquisitive when he spoke to me.  The mischievous smile framed by two perfect dimples.  The way his elegant hands worked with such precision.  I close my eyes, willing myself to stop thinking of him.  It was a pointless exercise of longing for what I couldn't have.  We can’t always have what we want, after all.

As I contemplate my dilemma, a drop of water lands on my shoulder followed by another drop and another in quick succession.  I look up as the sky splits open, I am drenched within a minute but I stay where I am, letting the rain wash over me.  There is a burning in my chest.  The dream.  I stay sitting in the rain for a long time.  For the first time, I feel lonely.

My wet jacket is hanging in my locker and my hoody is still damp as I walk into last period Psychology as the second bell rings.  The substitute is handing out a reading passage and a worksheet.  Ethan is sitting by himself toward the back of the classroom next to the bank of windows.  He looks lost in thought as he watches the rain fall steadily.  

No need to prolong the awkwardness.  I walk silently down the row of desks and set down my bag and take my usual seat behind Ethan.  He doesn’t glance away from the window, but I know he can see my reflection in the window.  His lips barely move as he speaks to me, “I thought you dropped Psych.  Or more accurately, I thought you dropped off the face of the planet.  What's with the disappearing act?”  My heart clenches at the sound of his voice, it’s much richer in person than the way it sounds in my head.

“I've been, uhm, busy,” I reply while flipping through the pages of my Psychology book.  I don’t know why I’m doing this to myself. 

“Well, I'm glad you found time to join us today, Fallon,” he says finally turning around, the corner of his mouth lifted.  I had almost forgotten how blue his eyes were.

Jacket on and books stashed away, Ethan waits patiently at the classroom door as I drag my feet in another feeble attempt to elude another awkward walk home with him.  Undeterred, he walks me to my locker and after a brief stop to grab my books and jacket, we walk out of the building together.  The sidewalk is slick with rain and it is still misting lightly outside.

“So, Mackenzie managed to trick me into going to one of those intimate gatherings,” his affectation of her smug, superior tone mixed with a hint of faux British brings a smile to my face that I quickly suppress.  “She keeps crashing on us every time I try to work on the English midterm with Emma.  We have hardly gotten any work done because Emma only jabbers about how amazing Mackenzie is during class.  So I went over to her house last week under the impression that we were finally going to work on our Shakespeare presentation.  But when I showed up, Mackenzie and all her goonies were waiting for me.”

I suppress the urge to roll my eyes, “Your life must be very difficult.  It must be so hard to every girl at Everest Heights fighting for your attention.”

“Not every girl,” he mutters quietly.  Changing his tone, he continues, “I've been walking to school, trying to catch you after Psych so I can walk you home.  I wanted to try and get a better understanding of what you meant when you said you were different than other girls.  I see how people regard you... It must be difficult to be gifted.”

“I’m not gifted.”

He ignores my response, “But you've been like a ghost.  Every time I catch a glimpse of you, you melt into the air.  What gives?”

He’s so persistent and I’m such a terrible liar, but I still try to stumble through my lame excuse, “I, uhh, I needed... to get home early so I had my schedule temporarily rearranged...”  I finish thinly, “for, uhm, SAT tutoring.”

“Really?  You need SAT tutoring?  You can solve a Rubiks cube in 37 seconds.  You quote Shakespeare.  And I’m pretty sure you have our European History book memorized.  God help us if you need SAT tutoring.”

My fingers twist together in front of me and I avoiding looking directly in his eyes, “I get test anxiety.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re back to regularly scheduled programming, Fallon.  Would it okay if I walk home with you?  I’m heading that way anyway, I have to stop by the hardware store to pick up something for my mom.  I know it didn’t go so well the last time when I invited myself...”  It’s his turn to turn away but he peeks at me from the corner of his eye, almost looking hopeful.

The air seems to leave my lungs for a moment.  I take a deep, slow breath before I respond, “It's your choice.  I can't promise I'll be very good company.” 

“At least you're honest about who you are,” Ethan responds cheerfully, throwing his hands in the air for emphasis.  “The people at this school.  I've been hiding out in the art room during 7th period.”  

I raise my eyebrows in surprise and respond dryly, “Don’t you have your gaggle of girls to sit with during lunch?”

He wrinkles his nose in distaste, “Sitting at that lunch table with those girls is excruciating.  They have nothing nice to say about anyone but the people at their table.  And they talk about the same things over and over again.”

Distracting myself, I play with the strap of my book bag, curling the nylon strip around my fingers.  “That's high school though isn't it?  When you showed up, you were the hot topic.  Ethan Hayes, new kid.  People were talking about you everywhere I turned.  There aren't new and exciting things happening all the time.  Especially at Everest, where everyone has known everyone since birth.” 

“No one seems to know much about you.”

I clear my throat, feeling awkward once again, “If you couldn’t tell, I’m not exactly popular.  I prefer to melt into the background.”

Ethan stops mid-stride and turns to look down at me, “People notice you more than you think.”  

Instantly, I feel my face turn scarlet.  I look away without responding and stride past him, he quickly catches up continuing his thought, “I guess I'm not used to this stereotypical high school setting with cliques and jocks and mean girls.  I haven't spent much time in a small setting like this.  I started at a performing arts high school in New York, then a boarding school in Connecticut, and last year, I was at a prep school in California.”

“Don't worry, it's a quick study.  Once you figure out the algorithm, high school becomes very predictable.  Then you'll know exactly where you fit in and how to act within the normal spectrum of expected behaviors.”

He tilts his head, a skeptical expression on his face. “Really, it's that simple?  And where do you fit in, Fallon Pierce?”

I can’t help but smile this time, “I am outside of the equation.”

“Of course.  I’m not sure about your theory.  Thoughts, feelings... They can’t be reduced to equations.  Not everything can be logical.”

Like how I feel about you.
  “True.  But most of the time, people behave exactly what you expect them to.”

His replies dryly, “Then it makes sense you’re not part of the equation.”

I cringe, “Sorry.  I’m that bad, huh?”

He looks at me pointedly, “Part of the reason, I’ve been hiding out in the art room is because I was hoping to spend some more time with you.  You were a lot more open when we were alone in the studio.  I peeked at your latest drawing by the way.  You've made a lot of progress.  What period is it from?  Gothic?”

My head is spinning and my tongue feels like lead in my mouth, I try to guide the conversation away from my disappearing act,  “Romanesque, actually.”

“They're really quite exquisite.  I don’t peg the folks of Everest Heights to be Medieval design and architecture buffs.  Why did you choose them?”

“First and foremost, they’re very beautiful... When it comes to my subject matter, I’m drawn to contrast.  Since the building's structure and facade are so elaborate, you really have to pay attention to the shadows to appreciate the details.  The haunting beauty coming out of the darkness.”  Ethan’s smile is thoughtful as he takes in my response.

Looking up, I realize we are already on my block.  The walk has gone by too quickly.  There's an awkward moment as we stand in my driveway.  “Well this is my stop.  Thanks for walking me home.”  I start making my way to the front porch but Ethan stops me.

“Wait a sec.”  There he goes again with that intense gaze that makes my insides liquify.  “I’m not going to give up trying to be your friend.  I like talking to you, Fallon.  You're not like other girls.”

If he only really knew.

The next morning, I resume my normal schedule.  I arrive a few minutes before the bell, Ethan is waiting at my table in the cafeteria.  I toss my book bag onto the table.  “How long are you going to keep this up, Ethan?”

“How long are you going to?” he mutters under his breath.  I stick my tongue out at him, feeling uncharacteristically playful.  “Listen, uhm, I was wondering... if you might want... well what I mean is... I want you to meet me in the art room during lunch today.  I have something I want to show you.  Would that be okay, Fallon?”

He seems uncharacteristically nervous, fiddling with the torn book wrapper of his European History book.  This side of Ethan is particularly endearing to me. I am seeing through his usual casual assuredness and it melts my resolve.  I try to consider the consequences of spending so much time alone with him but still I respond, “Sure Ethan, I'll meet you later.”

He surprises me when he reaches over and places his hand on top of mine, “Thank you, Fallon.”  The bell rings but we sit there for a prolonged moment.  I memorize the lines of our joined hands before pulling my hand away.  We walk to first period in silence.

With each passing period, I talk myself out of meeting Ethan then turn around and convince myself that I am strong willed enough that nothing will happen.  Classes fly by, though I couldn't say what happened in any them.  6th period comes and goes, the class empties out but I remain sitting at my drafting table in the empty art room as the bell rings signaling the start of 7th period.  A few minutes go by and I start questioning whether I should be here at all.  I take another peak at the clock over the classroom door.  Ethan is 10 minutes late and I feel stupid for thinking he would actually want to spend time alone with me.  I start putting away my drawing when Ethan comes crashing into the classroom.

“Sorry, sorry.  Mackenzie is the hardest person to get away from.  She's like a really talkative, pink boa constrictor.  She just wraps herself around you until it's impossible to get away.  Hey, are you leaving?”

I avoid his eyes as I start stuffing things into my bag haphazardly.  I try to shrug and act casual, but I feel the unfamiliar sting of tears in my eyes, “It's fine.  Don't worry about it.  I was just heading to the library to study.  We have that epic European history exam tomorrow.”

Ethan frowns and walks over to me, placing his hand over the opening of my bag to get my attention, “Oh, come on Fallon.  Please stay.  I have something I really want to show you.  Only you would understand and appreciate it.  Please?”  He puts his finger under my chin and lifts my face, gazing into my eyes as he gives me one of his brilliant smiles.  Before I can object, he grabs me by the hand pulling me away from the drafting table.  

He pulls over an extra stool and sets it down at the potter's wheel, facing the other stool.  Obediently, I sit down on the stool.  Ethan leans over me to grab an apron, his sweater pulling up revealing a perfect physique.  I look away and quietly slip on the apron he hands me.  

Ethan puts on his own apron before grabbing his bag.  My curiosity piques as he reaches inside and pulls out a plastic tub.  He cradles it carefully in the palm of his hands.  “Go ahead, open it.”

I slowly peel open the lid and let out a gasp when I see the contents of the tub.  “Where did you get this?  The color is exquisite.”  I reach in and tear off a hunk of rust red clay and hold it in the sunlight.

“My dad brought it back from Mexico.  I needed it for this project I have in mind.  Do you sculpt, Fallon?”

“Does Play Doh count?  I'm really more of a 2D girl.”  I roll the lump of clay between my hands, working it into a ball.

Ethan plucks the clay out of my hands and puts it on the potter's wheel.  “That is not the proper technique to roll out clay.  Let me show you how it's done.”  I feel like I’m all thumbs as he demonstrates how I should place my hands on the clay.

Hesitantly, I put my hands on the clay and Ethan starts spinning the wheel.  He places his hands on top of mine, sending a tingle that spreads from my hands throughout my entire body.

Ethan gently guides my fingers.  “You want your thumb to be right here.  Do you feel the difference?”

All I can do is nod.  The lump of clay begins to transform beneath our joined hands.  I can't help but feel like the world itself has been reshaped.

As we walk home after Psychology, we talk animatedly about Greek-Roman-classical sculpture.  When we arrive at my front door, I feel similarly conflicted as before.  I know I should go inside, but at the same time I want Ethan to stay.   But I'm also not ready to invite him inside.  I settle for somewhere in the middle ground and invite Ethan to sit down and talk on my front steps.  I throw my bag on the porch and take a seat at the top of the stairs as he drops his book bag into the grass and sits down on the step below me.