Extraordinary October (4 page)

“We won't let them hurt her,” said one.

“Hate those crows,” said the other.

“Me too. Me too. Me too.”

I was sure I was losing my mind. “I have to go home.”

“But we only just got here,” Green said.

“You can't go now,” Jeb echoed.

“Don't worry. I won't let anything happen to you.” Walker said. He gestured at the others. “We won't.”

I wanted to believe him. I wanted to believe he and they could really truly take care of me. Mostly, I wanted to curl myself against his soft gray sweater and into his arms. My want was tangible; I felt it like the breeze on my skin, or my hunger, or my need to pee. I didn't like the feeling. I blinked my eyes to stop the tears.

“Turning eighteen wasn't such a big deal for me,” Luisa said to Walker.

“She's very strong. We don't know what's going to happen.”

I turned to him. “I thought you had questions for me about college.”

Luisa looked incredulous. “You still want to go to college?”

“I want to be a veterinarian, maybe a zoologist. Or an ornithologist. You know, study birds. I love animals.”

Walker shook his head. “You don't have to go to school to do that.”

“That's like me saying you don't have to go to school to study people. Isn't that what psychology is? The study of people's behaviors and feelings?” I started for my car. “You need to take a few more classes.”

Walker came with me. “I'll follow you.”

“I'm fine.”

“I'm following you home.”

I didn't argue. He could do what he wanted. I couldn't wait to be back in my own room, alone and inside, away from birds and people, reading a book and listening to music. Walker walked beside me, but he didn't say anything. I felt the warmth radiating from him. I looked up searching for crows and saw those two little brown cactus wrens hopping along branch-to-branch above us. Nuts. This day had been plain nuts.

I opened the door of my dad's beat-up car and Walker continued over to a lovely silver Porsche. Some college student, I thought.

“Listen,” I said. “I don't want to be part of your experiment.”

He nodded. I had expected a fight, but he gave up right away. “Okay,” he said. “Maybe that wasn't the best idea. I'm sorry.”

Him being nice was worse than when he was a jerk. He was so incredibly cute. Then I caught a glimpse of my reflection. There was a big scrape down my forehead and flecks of blood on my cheek. I looked terrible. Quickly, I jumped into my car and shut the door.

He followed me all the way home, and waited in front of the house until I parked and went in my front door. By the time I looked out the window, he had gone.

4. Three Days Until My Birthday

I woke up the next morning itching again, this time centered on the top of my right foot. I itched so badly I could almost ignore the embarrassment and pain I felt when I thought about Walker. I'd been an idiot the day before, scared of a couple crows and then going home like a sullen baby. I hoped I'd see him at school so I could apologize. There were lots of other senior girls going to college and I tried not to think about him sitting on a bench with one of them.

I gritted my teeth, from the itch or the image or both. I poked my foot out from under the covers and saw I had scratched it practically raw. There were long red scrapes and a bizarre, almost flower-shaped bruise on my ankle. It would have almost been pretty if it didn't itch so badly. I hobbled to the shower, stopping to check the cut on my forehead in the mirror. It was an inch and a half long and scabbed over. Gross. And just as suddenly as the day before, the itch stopped. Gone. Vanished. Poof. If only the cut on my face could have disappeared as easily.

I dressed for school—and a possible Walker sighting—carefully. I wore my new jeans and my purple T-shirt that fit perfectly and my second hand, but cool black leather jacket. In case the itch returned, I left my big boots at home and wore a little pair of flats I'd bought myself. My mom hated them. I don't know why, but she was partial to my big old boots. Go figure. In the flats my feet felt light and nimble—not usual for me. In fact, as I walked up the steps into school my whole body seemed to be floating into the air. Maybe I had been wearing those boots too much.

But at school it seemed every kid had heard about my itch. Total strangers asked me about it in the hall. “How's that itch?” and “Scratch much?” One girl offered me a bottle of lotion. I thought she was being nice until all her friends cracked up. The handwritten label read Miss October's Centerfold Itch Cream. I did my best to ignore everyone. I ducked into English class just after the bell and was relieved Luisa wasn't there.

Half way through class—which was actually kind of interesting for a change—the door opened and Principal Hernandez entered with a new kid. A guy. He looked around the class and then at me. Right at me. Immediately I felt a little twinge in my gut, as if there was a string attached to my belly button and he was tugging on it.

“Class, attention.” Hernandez bounced up and down. He always sort of stood on his tippy-toes. We all knew it was a sign of sexual frustration. He continued bouncing as he said, “This is Trevor Rockman. He's going to finish his senior year with us.”

Hernandez handed some paperwork to Ms. Campbell, the English teacher, while Trevor kind of smiled at all of us but mostly me. Dark, shaggy hair and high cheekbones, dark olive skin, full lips, and eyes like smoldering coals. Okay, I'd read that in a romance novel and it wasn't his eyes—I was the one smoldering. Something had definitely revved up my pheromones; I was hot and bothered, first for Walker and now this guy. I blushed and looked down. Ms. Campbell offered him the empty seat behind me and to my right. He walked down the aisle and stopped at my desk. I looked up.

“What happened to your forehead?”

“Killer crow attack.” It sounded ridiculous. I don't know why I didn't lie and say something awesome, like motorcycle accident.

“Not going for a Harry Potter look?”

I laughed. “Definitely not.”

He laughed with me. “It's kind of cute.” And continued to his seat.

Forget whatever Ms. Campbell said after that, he was all I could think about. Right behind me. I heard every move. Every exhale. I heard his pen scratching in his notebook. When class was over, I was disappointed he rushed out of the room, but then I found him leaning against the opposite wall. He was waiting for me.

“What's your name?”

“October. Really.” I added that before he could ask.

“Very nice,” he said. “Really.”

English class was right before lunch and I found myself walking with him toward the cafeteria. He wasn't very tall, and he wasn't drop dead gorgeous or anything, kind of thick with big feet and hands to tell the truth, but he had my motor racing. As we went down the hall, the other kids looked him over, but seemed only as interested as they would be in anyone new. I was the only one having trouble breathing.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“Not very.”

He took my arm and pulled me outside to the breezeway. It stretched between the classroom building and the gym and was where kids used to hang out to smoke back when smoking was allowed. Now it was just a place to gather, smoking forbidden of course, and all the little cliques had their areas. The fountain was for the popular girls so they could sit down together and the sunlight could show off their salon highlights. The corner by the gym was of course for the jocks. The stoners sort of drifted on the steps down to the parking lot. Trevor and I stopped by an empty pillar.

“Tell me all the school secrets,” he said. “Who are these people?”

“Your companions for the next three months of your life.” I dropped my voice as I nodded at various kids. “She's most likely to end up in jail. He's most likely to fail 11th grade—again. That one? Most likely to be pregnant before graduation. Probably just like the kids at your last school. Why did you transfer so late in the year?”

“Usual. My dad's job.”

“You've moved a lot.”

He nodded. He looked kind of sad and I wanted to say something comforting. It had to be hard to come into a school so late.

“Stick with me,” I said. “I belong to no cliques and no clubs. I can't introduce you to anyone because I don't know their names.”

“Snob,” he said, but he was smiling.

“That's me.”

“Thank you for allowing me to be your entourage of one.”

“I may forget who you are tomorrow.”

He gave a funny, shy, sideways look at me and said quietly, “I hope not.”

My heart thumped. How sweet was that? I was trying to think of a great reply—I might still be trying to come up with that great reply—when Jacob the jock pushed through the double doors and saw me.

“Hey Miss October,” he jeered. “How's that itch?” He snickered and gestured at his crotch. “I got something you can scratch.”

He was such a jerk I wasn't even embarrassed. “You should see a doctor about that,” I said. “I think it comes from too much masturbation.”

“Ouch.” Trevor laughed.

Jacob was pissed, but after a look at Trevor, he didn't say anything else. He walked over to his buddies in the jock corner, whispered something to them and they all snickered.

“Want me to beat him up for you?” Trevor held up his fists like a boxer. He was kidding, of course, and it was funny, but then he said, “What is this itch everybody's talking about?”

I was not going to share it with him. Absolutely not. “I've gotta get to the library,” I said. “I'll see you later.”

He frowned. I sort of hoped he'd offer to come with me, but then he shrugged. “Okay.”

I fled. Damn Jacob. He had teased me since 3rd Grade and been rude and disgusting since 9th, but this year he had basically ignored me—thank God—until the itch. Please, I thought, don't let the itch be my defining moment. I could see the yearbook and underneath my photo: “Girl Most Likely To Scratch.”

I turned the corner to the library and literally collided with Walker Smith. He dropped the book he was holding and we both bent to pick it up and bumped our heads. Just like a comedy routine, only it was more of a tragedy. Every time I saw him I did or said something stupid.

“You okay?”

“Going to the library.”

“Your forehead.”

“It's fine.”

I didn't want to look up into those blue eyes. I tried to think about the new guy, about Trevor, but once again Walker radiated safety and warmth, and I felt myself relaxing, slowing down, turning into pudding beside him.

“Sorry about yesterday,” I said.

“No, no. I'm sorry. I came to check on you, make sure you're all right. Crows carry terrible diseases.”

“Like what?”

Before he could answer he looked over my shoulder and gave a little hiss. I turned around. Trevor came toward us. His muscles bulged in his tight T-shirt and he walked with a fluid motion like a dancer or a gymnast. I smiled at him. He smiled back.

“Hey,” I said.

“Thought you were going to the library.” He stuck out his hand for Walker to shake. “Trevor Rockman,” he said. “You October's uncle or something?”

I almost choked.

Walker's eyes narrowed and his chin went up. “October is helping me with a project.”

“No, I'm not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I don't think so.”

“Guess she's not,” Trevor said and offered me his arm. “We're going to the library.”

“Wait,” Walker said.

Trevor and I walked away. When we got into the library I laughed out loud. “Thank you.”

Trevor grinned. “That guy is a little strange, huh?”

“You're telling me.”

We laughed and the librarian shushed us—naturally—so Trevor led me down to the far wall, way back in the stacks. I love the smell of old books and for some reason that and the dust and even the gray piece of chewing gum stuck on the wall were like an aphrodisiac. I had goose bumps. Trevor looked up at the fluorescent light. It was buzzing, and then it flickered and went out, leaving us in the shadows.

“Perfect,” said Trevor.

I was trembling. Was he going to kiss me? Was this going to be my first official kiss? I'd just met him. I didn't want him to think I was a slut, but then I decided I would worry about that later.

He whispered. “What do you say we skip the rest of the day and find a place to go swimming?”

“It's cold out.”

“I'll keep you warm.”

I had never skipped school. I'd never had a reason before. He leaned toward me. I liked that he wasn't too tall. He smelled good, like dark, clean dirt. I know that sounds not so appealing, but on him it was delicious. I nodded yes. I was ready to go wherever with him. I looked into his big, dark eyes, started to close mine as our heads tilted…

“Hey, October.”

I jumped. It was Green, standing there with about twelve books stacked up in his pudgy little arms.

“Oh are you kidding me?” I said.

“How're you feeling?” he asked. Then he looked at Trevor. “You're the new kid. Hi. I'm Chris Lee.”

Not very nicely I said, “I call him Green because yesterday he was green and puking his guts out.”

“I feel much better.” He spoke seriously. “October, your forehead looks bad.”

I couldn't believe this pipsqueak had ruined my moment. And then the bell rang.

“You going to Chemistry?” Green asked me. “I'm walking that way.”

How did he know where I was going? So much for skipping the rest of the afternoon. As we all walked toward the library doors, Trevor took my hand. I got a shock, like when you touch metal.

“Oh!”

“Sorry,” he said. “The carpet I guess.”

I rubbed the spot on my hand. “It's nothing.” It hurt a lot.

Chris went ahead of us and Trevor stopped me in the doorway. “Can I see you? Tonight?”

It was Thursday. I didn't know what I'd tell my parents. Plus wasn't I supposed to play hard to get? “Yes,” I said. So much for hard to get—he'd obviously gotten me.

“Meet me at the Stop N Shop by your house at seven.”

“How do you know where I live?”

He shrugged and grinned. He was so damn attractive.

“Okay,” I said. “I'll be there.”

“I'll buy you an ice cream cone.”

He jogged off toward his next class and I turned toward mine. Green was standing in front of me.

“What're you looking at?” I asked.

“Your forehead's bleeding,” he said. “And that thing on your neck is growing.”

I groaned. So attractive. Maybe Trevor hadn't noticed. Yeah, right.

I ducked into the closest restroom.