Fragile (3 page)

“I’m sorry,” she said in a small voice, blinking her thick lashes to hold back the spillage of tears. “She didn’t do anything wrong.  I know she was just being nice, but I can’t help but feel…”

She trailed off, sniffing pitifully, working the one angle sure to get Hardy to calm down—guilt. 

“Feel what?”

“Feel like I’m losing you,” she finished, casting her eyes down.  “You were distracted all summer.  I was hoping that would change once we started our senior year, but it hasn’t.”

Hardy sighed, running his fingers through his short, brown hair in frustration.

“You’re not losing me, I’m just…” Hardy paused, feeling a sharp stab in the area of his conscience over the lie.  He consoled himself with the thought that she really wasn’t losing him; he was already gone.  It was just a matter of time before she knew it.  “I’m trying to focus on football, that’s all.  You know how important this year is for me.  Dad’s trying to get scouts to come out and watch me, and I have to keep my head in the game.  I’m sorry if I seem distant.”

Cheyenne reached for his hand, running her fingers between his as she spoke.  “I’d be devastated if something happened to us.  I love you. You know that.”

“I know,” Hardy said, pulling his fingers from hers to wrap his arm around her neck and pull her along.  For some reason, he didn’t want Miracle to come out of class and see them standing there.  “We need to get a move on or we’ll be late.”

“Since when is that a problem for you?” she asked, looking up into his face like the sun rose and set at his command.

“Good point,” Hardy teased as they turned the corner to head to their lockers.

********

Lunch was always a production at Seminole Senior High, at least if you ate third group with the members of the football team.  There were a handful of rowdy guys that served as entertainment to any and all who sat near them.  Being the quarterback, Hardy seemed always to be in the center of everything, including Charlie and Robert, two of the rowdiest.

Everyone at Hardy’s table had finished eating and had congregated outside on the lawn. Currently, they were all standing in a loose circle watching the disgusting escapades of Charlie and Robert.  They were hocking loogies into the air and catching them as they came back down.  Although fairly amusing, it still made Hardy’s mouth water to watch the slime run down their chins when they nearly missed.

The crowd was cheering them on between bouts of laughter and groans of disgust.  A couple of girls walked by behind Charlie and one of them caught Hardy’s eye.

Wearing her trademark sweet smile, Miracle was walking down the slope of the lawn with a girl he recognized but didn’t know.  He was pretty sure she was one of the art students, the type that wasn’t very involved in sports or parties, which were the activities Hardy’s crowd engaged in most often.  The only attention he paid her was to notice that she walked with Miracle.  Beyond that, she was immediately forgotten. 

The couple stepped into the sunshine.  The golden light glinted off Miracle’s hair, highlighting an auburn tone and slight wave he hadn’t noticed before.  He’d seen enough of Cheyenne’s magazines to know that girls would kill for hair like Miracle’s.  It was thick and rich, a far cry from the bald head he’d seen once before.

“Da-yum!”

The explicative drew Hardy’s attention back to Nate, whose head was turned watching Miracle as well. 

“What?” Hardy asked, already feeling defensive about what the answer likely was.

“Who is
that?”

Although it made no sense, Hardy wanted to punch his best friend right in the mouth.  A notorious man whore, Nate had a reputation for chasing anything in a skirt, and, even though he was a nice guy deep down, Hardy had a big problem with the way he was eyeing Miracle.

“She’s new.  No one you’d be interested in,” Hardy replied, trying to sound casual despite his prickling ire.

“Why not, Hardy?  She’d be ideal for Nate,” Cheyenne piped up, making Hardy grit his teeth in frustration.  “He likes the skinny ones.  Look, Nate,” she said, addressing Hardy’s best friend.  “She looks like a twelve year old boy.  Perfect!”

“No, she doesn’t,” Hardy argued a bit sharply.

“Yes, she does!  Look at that.  She’s straight as a stick and has no boobs.”

“She’s just thin.  And her clothes are loose.”

“That’s not ‘just thin,’ Hardy.”

“I like her body,” Nate interjected.

“You would,” Cheyenne sneered.

“You know I like ‘em any way I can get ‘em, don’t you, Cheyenne?” Nate’s barb effectively quieted Cheyenne, her mouth snapping shut with a click of her teeth.  She and Nate had a history and he knew just how to push her buttons.

“I don’t think she’s your type anyway, Nate,” Hardy said.

“Any girl is my type.”

“Any girl except nice girls.”  Cheyenne took offense at Hardy’s remark, huffing and smacking his arm in a fit of pique.  “You know I didn’t mean you,” Hardy clarified with a roll of his eyes.

“How do you know she’s a nice girl anyway?”  Cheyenne asked.  “You don’t even know her.”

Hardy had no response to that.  Cheyenne was right; he didn’t know Miracle.  Not really.  But, somehow, he felt like he did.  And he certainly wanted to. 

Looking for any excuse to change the subject and draw attention away from Miracle, Hardy put on his most mischievous smile and teased Nate. 

“You’d better put thoughts like that right out of your head, Nate.  You’ve got your hands full, remember?  Wasn’t Rena supposed to be the one you’d tag in a week?  And what’s it been now?  Six?”

A couple other guys in the circle jumped in to playfully harass Nate, effectively diverting attention away from Miracle.  All except Hardy’s, of course.  He couldn’t stop his eyes from straying toward the sunshine, from searching for her dark head.

A sharp jab to his ribs pulled his attention back to the girl at his side.  When he turned to look at Cheyenne, she was watching him carefully, frowning.  Although he could see some concern in her eyes, what he saw mostly was anger.

********

Sixth period—the last of the day and Hardy’s favorite.  It was photography.  All seniors who took any kind of art elective had it as their last class of the day.  Most saw it as a period to goof off and relax.  Hardy saw it as the one hour he could pursue his passion.

Strolling into class, Hardy placed his camera bag in the floor beside his desk and slid into the chair.  He was already thinking ahead to the two major assignments of the first semester—nature and people.  Hardy hoped one day to make his living as a sports photographer.  Not that anyone in the world knew that or would’ve cared if they did.  His father and Cheyenne wanted him to be a pro football player.  His mother wanted him to be a dentist like her father, although she went along with the football thing out of fear.  All his friends thought any kind of art was for wusses, so Hardy kept his love of photography to himself. 

He was staring dreamily out the window, thinking of what he might like to photograph first, when a voice like velvet had him jerking his head toward the front of the room.  His heart soared when he saw her.  He couldn’t stop the dumb grin that curved his lips when she turned and spotted him.  She returned his smile with one of her own.  It made his palms sweaty.  Hardy watched as she made her way between the desks to the only empty seat in the room—the one behind him in the very back of the class.

Hardy gave Miracle a minute to get situated before he turned to speak to her.  His heart hammered as he thought of what he would say.  Never in his life had he been nervous to talk to a girl.

I’m not really
nervous
per se,
he told himself.  But he was.  For the first time he could remember, he actually cared what a girl thought of him, actually wanted to make a good impression.  Normally, they sought him out.  He didn’t even have to try.  At all.  Even though he’d been dating Cheyenne for going on four years, he’d never lacked feminine attention.  Apparently girls didn’t care whether he was taken or not.  They just wanted him.  Period.

Finally, clearing his throat, Hardy turned in his seat, hanging his arm casually over the corner of Miracle’s desk.  “Miracle, right?”

Idiot!
Hardy thought. 
She knows you know her name.  Now you just sound like a mental patient.

“Yes,” she said, her lips curving into that angelic smile.  “I didn’t catch your name.”

“Hardy,” he answered, bringing his right hand around in offer of a handshake.  “Hardy Bradford.”

Miracle glanced at Hardy’s hand and her smile widened.  He felt like kicking himself.

Dude!  You’re offering her a handshake?  You’re offering a
girl
a handshake? 
 

It was too late to rescind the gesture, however, so Hardy held his position, praying she wouldn’t think him a complete jackass and run as fast as she could in the other direction.  Slowly, much to Hardy’s relief, she slid her fingers into his and clasped them for a surprisingly firm handshake.

The skin was cool and as soft as anything he’d ever felt.  Hardy wondered absently if her cheek felt the same way.  He imagined that it did.

“Nice to meet you, Hardy.”

They pumped each other’s hand, smiling into each other’s eyes for several seconds before Miracle tugged as if to pull her hand from his.  When she did, Hardy squeezed for just a moment, unwilling to let it go. 

“Since you two have already made your own introductions,” Mr. Gault said from right behind Hardy, causing him to jump and release Miracle’s hand, “why don’t you help her catch up with what she’s missed and show her around a little, Hardy?  We’re only discussing natural light this period anyway, and it sounds like Miracle knows as much about it as you do.  I doubt either of you will miss much.”

Hardy cleared his throat again. “Yes, sir.”

Hardy purposely held his lips in a neutral line as he turned back around in his seat.  It took quite a bit of effort to suppress the bubble of goofy laughter he felt tickling in his chest.  He just couldn’t believe his luck!

 After Mr. Gault went over announcements, he nodded to Hardy.  Reaching for his camera bag, Hardy turned quietly to Miracle.  “Let’s go.  Time to get the tour.”

Hardy nearly held out his hand for Miracle to take. Luckily, he realized it in the nick of time and stuffed that hand in his pocket instead. 

He had no idea what was wrong with him, why he was reacting to Miracle like he was; he only knew he’d have to mind his Ps and Qs.  For some reason she was making him feel kind of crazy, and of all the years Hardy could’ve afforded a little crazy, this was not one of them. 

The first place he took Miracle was the dark room. 

“This place is off limits to anyone not in a photography class, but we still have a sign-up sheet since there are quite a few of us.  It’s set up for two people to develop in here at a time, so you should always be able to get in,” Hardy explained.  “In fact, if you want, I could sign you up for a few of my times.  Just so you’ll be able to catch up and stuff.  You know…”

Miracle smiled her sweet, slightly sad smile and Hardy’s stomach flipped over.  “Thank you.  I really appreciate that.  I don’t know how many times I’ll be able to come, but I’d like to try and stay caught up.”

Miracle tilted her head to one side and let out a small sigh, reaching forward to run one finger wistfully along the edge of a tray.  He wanted desperately to ask what she meant by that, but something about her expression gave him pause.

Uncertain of what to say and hesitant to interrupt her thought, Hardy took the clip board down from the nail on the wall.  As he looked down the list of assigned times, he cursed every person who had signed up to share time with him.  There were still a few open slots, however, so he scribbled Miracle beside his name in every last one.

“So, I’m assuming you’ve developed your own pictures before?”

Miracle nodded distractedly. 

“Last year, we were allowed to use digital cameras for a couple of projects, but for the most part he wants us to stick with the old-school method in black and white.”

Again, she nodded.

“Okay, well, let me show you the ‘conservatory,’” Hardy said, using air quotes.

“There’s a conservatory here?”

Hardy hated to disappoint Miracle when she seemed so impressed by that. 

“Uh,” he chuckled.  “No, not really.  That’s just what they call it.  Come on.  You’ll see.”

Hardy led Miracle out of the dark room, down the hall and out into the afternoon sun.  Even though he’d lived in Florida his whole life, the late summer heat still struck him like a slap in the face on occasion.  He sucked in a breath.

“Oh my god, it’s so frickin’ hot!”

Miracle said nothing, simply followed him along the paver path, past the horticulture building.  Hardy rounded the corner at the back of the brick structure and then veered left, continuing along the trail down a slight incline to an ancient greenhouse.  He stopped a few feet in front of the door and swept his arm out in a grand and dramatic gesture.

“The ‘conservatory,’” he announced with a facetious flourish.

Removed from any other structure at the school, the greenhouse was constructed of wrought iron ribs with foggy, aged plexi-glass spanning the space between.  The panes toward the top were cracked open to allow for the release of hot air, undoubtedly cooling the sweltering inside temperatures.