Just Me (3 page)
“
Sure thing.” Jotting down their order, I chanced a glance at Sebastian who seemed to suddenly find great interest in the tablecloth. It was there again, that snap in the air, but it was the shyness coming from him that did funny things to my insides. Luckily my voice didn't betray what I felt when I said, “It won't be long.”
I had only just moved away from them, when I heard Sebastian say, “Thank you, Larkspur.”
The directness of his stare, as I turned back to him, caused that pleasant feeling again. Now
I
blushed. “Yeah, no problem,” I said. My legs
weren't
steady when I walked away.
Not long after Sebastian's group arrived, the door opened and Kira and gang entered. By the way Kira strained her neck to look around the place, I suspected she knew that Sebastian was here. In fact, she was so obvious I just took a moment to watch her. Mica, Carla and Sahara were with her and a more conceited, selfish group never existed. Again I found my attention drawn by Mica, who looked around warily, as if at any minute she was going to turn and flee. Odd.
When Kira finally found Sebastian, more specifically found whom he was sitting with, I enjoyed the look on her face. She wasn't deterred though as she made her way over to him. That was another trait of the popular crowd I found annoying: no one and nothing was outside of their grasp. If they wanted something or someone, all obstacles be damned. If they were unable to move the obstacle, then mommy and daddy stepped in. It seemed Kira wanted Sebastian.
As she stopped just in front of his table, no one paid her any attention. In fact, not even Sebastian looked up, which seemed odd considering they had all stared at me like a two-headed clown in a circus.
“
Hello Sebastian.”
Did he just roll his eyes? This was quickly becoming very enjoyable to watch. Kira's pout deepened.
“
Hi Kira.”
“
I didn't know you were going to be here tonight?” She said almost accusingly.
The slightest of grins touched his lips. “I wasn't aware I was required to tell you.”
His friend with the buzz cut lowered his head and I noticed the shaking of his shoulders. Oh no, this was going to get ugly fast. Kira did not like to be laughed at. If she felt even the tiniest bit of censure, she immediately digressed into flaunting her parents' wealth and influence in the community. Sebastian's order was ready, so I made my way through the tables and stopped just to the right of Kira.
“
Excuse me, Kira.”
“
Larkspur, what are you doing here?”
It took me a minute to answer…what a stupid question. I wiggled the pizzas I carried. “It's that time of the month and I am just starving all the time.”
She flicked her hair, dismissing me, before she turned to Sebastian. “See you tomorrow.” Her ass swayed entirely too much as she walked away. I pulled my gaze from her ridiculously overplayed exit and turned to the table.
A smile cracked over shaved-head-dude's face. “That was funny.”
Placing their pizzas down, I spoke without thinking. “I thought it a fitting answer to such a dumb question. Enjoy your pizza. Flag me down if you need anything.”
They spent a good two hours laughing and eating. When Sebastian started climbing from the booth, disappointment twisted my stomach almost painfully. I looked away, so he didn't catch me watching and possibly drooling.
After taking the order for two other tables, I moved to clear off Sebastian's table only to find him standing by the door watching me. My heart slammed into my ribs. Our eyes met—he winked, then he walked out. I didn't know what to make of that until I saw he had scribbled his name and number on the back of the bill. My gaze flew to the door, but he was gone. Excitement and disbelief warred inside me as I pocketed
that
slip of paper.
That night, after I got changed and climbed into bed, I just lay there staring at the number I’d added to my phone. Sebastian had left me his number, so clearly he wanted me to call him, but I didn't have a clue what to say. I couldn't look at the boy without breaking out into a cold sweat, so it wasn't hard to imagine me freezing up as soon as his voice came over the line. He'd either confuse me for a telemarketing call or worse, a stalker. My number would be blocked, maybe even reported. Wonder how Aunt Kim would take that? Having the cops knocking at the door looking for me, the stalker. She'd probably sell tickets. No it was better to text him something simple.
Good night, Sebastian.
Before I could put my phone on the bedside table, it buzzed, signaling an incoming text. Seeing Sebastian's number, even knowing already it was going to be from him, had my heart fluttering again.
Larkspur, sweet dreams.
Oh, I was going to be dreaming of him, no doubt. So, yes indeed, my dreams were most definitely going to be sweet.
***
Something jarred me from sleep later that night. I half expected to see someone in my room, but a quick look around proved that false. A glance at the clock showed it was just after three in the morning. Climbing from bed, I made my way downstairs to get a glass of water. I didn't immediately see my aunt sitting alone in the kitchen, but once I did, I wished I had stayed in my room. Her eyes looked oddly empty. “What are you doing up? Are you looking to raid the refrigerator? Am I not feeding you enough?” She said.
“
I just wanted a glass of water.” My voice shook a bit, because truth be told, I was a little afraid of her too.
She didn't acknowledge my reply and I suspected that was because she had already dismissed me from her thoughts. It wasn't my intention to say anything more, but it was strange to find her sitting alone in the kitchen in the early hours of the morning.
“
Are you okay?”
I didn't think she was going to answer me and when she did, shock and bewilderment filled me in response. She asked. “Do you believe in hell?”
It took me a moment to reply. “I think I do.”
“
When I die, I'll probably go to hell.”
If that belief was based on her treatment of me, I had to agree with her on that point. But I kept that thought to myself. Her next words weren't directed at me. I had the sense that she was talking to herself. “There are times I wish I could go back and do it differently. Even though I won, I didn't really win.”
Her gaze lifted and a hint of tenderness peeked out. “It's not personal. Sometimes I wish I could compartmentalize my feelings, but I've never been very good at that.”
I didn't understand what she was saying. My brain wasn't up to the task of deciphering this conversation because it was on overload. Normally the only time my aunt deemed to speak to me was to rub in my face all the family activities I wouldn't be participating in, going so far as to lie to my uncle about my disinterest in family gatherings as the reason for my exclusion. This insight into her, regret however small, was as confusing as it was unexpected.
“
You should try to get some sleep. You have school in the morning.” She stood and walked from the room. My mind was still processing the cryptic, and yet not unpleasant, conversation I had just shared with her, so I didn't immediately follow her out.
Returning to my room, I settled in for bed, but I was perplexed by my aunt's behavior in the kitchen. It wasn't long after I first arrived that her attitude toward me changed. She didn't treat me like family and though she didn't beat me, or lock me in my room, she always kept me on the outside. It started with her forgetting to include me. Small things at first, like not inviting me out for ice cream, or to walk the dog. She would claim she thought I wasn't interested or busy doing something else, but later the exclusions became more obvious. Like when she decided to redecorate the house and every room was updated but mine. She had insisted that she had already redecorated my room before I arrived—but considering the wall color in my room was the same color of the hallway just outside my room, a color my aunt had repeatedly remarked on not liking—it was clear she had lied. And I couldn't forget the homemade school lunches she made every morning for the girls, usually with a daily note of encouragement tucked inside, but for me I got an envelope on the counter with money. And the few times I
was
included, it was more in the capacity of hired help—carrying the bags for my cousins' purchases, which included not one article of clothing for me. The ten-year-old girl I had been was thrilled to have been included in the shopping trip—I didn't comprehend the snub.
On the surface, my aunt looked like any other soccer mom, but there were times when I would catch her unawares, and the expression, or rather lack of one, on her face chilled me. It was possible I was just being morbid, but to me it seemed like it wouldn't take too hard a push to send my aunt completely over the edge. She always made the hairs on my arms stand just a little bit on end.
My uncle had really tried to make me feel wanted and loved, but he learned quickly that my aunt had a will of iron. The courts forced me on them, but it didn't mean she had to do any more for me than feed me and keep a roof over my head. Even family dinners turned strained when I joined them; it was only after I left the table that the happy sounds of a close family resumed. A few weeks after I moved in with them, I started taking my meals in my room. I thought someone would object, but nine years later, no one had, though my uncle continued to invite me to share a meal. However, he didn't push it and for that I was grateful.
After that conversation in the kitchen, was my aunt finally going to make an effort to be nicer to me? I fell asleep wishing for just that.
The following morning as I was leaving the house, I was stopped by my aunt, who attempted to make eye contact without much success. After our conversation last night, was her inability to look me in the eye embarrassment over her treatment of me?
“
Your uncle, the girls and I are leaving for Disney World tomorrow and we will be staying for the week. I've already called the Wrights, and they've agreed you can stay with them while we're gone. Pack your things and bring them to school with you tomorrow morning.” Her gaze shifted from my shoulder to meet mine. “You aren't invited, be clear on that. This is
my
time with
my
family. So even if your uncle asks you to join us, you aren't wanted.”
Clearly she’d shed her problem with looking me in the eye. After last night, and the hope I had felt at the possibility that my home life was about to improve, her words hurt like hell. “Okay.”
She barely waited for an answer before she turned her back on me and walked away. What changed from last night to this morning? And did she intentionally throw me off last night with feigned kindness so her rejection this morning would hurt all the more? If that was the case, she wasn't just mean, she was also vindictive and more the aunt I had come to expect and not the anomaly I met last night.
An hour later I sat in English Lit sketching and listening to my iPod when Sebastian entered, but instead of accompanying Kira, he was with Jim: the captain of the soccer team. I lowered my head before he could look my way, and busied myself with my drawing. Just seeing him had me feeling edgy, in a good way. Yes, I sported a healthy crush on Sebastian—a boy I didn't know at all. I bet his ink could tell me a lot about him, because being that covered so young, made me suspect what he had done held a great deal of meaning to him.
My head lifted when I felt his stare on me. Looking into those pools of turquoise caused a heat to sizzle all the way down my spine. Time seemed to stop for a moment as our gazes locked, but sooner than I wanted, his attention turned back to the front of the class. Was this what Sophia felt every time she fell in love—the nerves in her belly, the pounding of her heart in her chest, the overwhelming need to touch, taste and explore? If it was, I understood now why she “fell” so often. It was a heady feeling.
After class I waited until Sebastian left before I packed up my stuff and headed out into the hall. I hoped he would be there waiting for me, but when I stepped out into the crowded corridor, he was nowhere to be seen. Disappointment, and a bit of resentment, filled me as I started for my locker because it almost felt as if Sebastian was embarrassed by his interest in me: the only explanation I could think of as to why he didn't speak to me at school.
My oil canvas had already been placed on an easel when I arrived in art class. Because I was in the middle of a project, Ms. Whitney allowed me to work independently. My painting depicted our town square with the white steeple from the Baptist church surrounded by trees in my favorite earth tones: deep russet, goldenrod, burgundy and burnt orange. As I settled behind the easel, I slipped my ear buds in and listened to Yael Naim as I lost myself in my work.
Fifty minutes had passed quickly when Ms. Whitney touched my arm, signaling the end of class. I cleaned up my workspace and headed to lunch to meet the gang. They were already at our table when I entered. Shawn saw me and waved as I walked over and dropped my backpack on the floor.
“
Hey guys.”
“
Art class?” Sophia asked.
“
Yeah. I’ll be right back.” I moved to the line right as Sebastian entered the cafeteria with Jim. His head was turned away from me, engaged in conversation with Jim, but, as if he could sense my presence, his shoulders tensed only seconds before his head turned and our eyes met. Was it possible that his body reacted to my nearness too? He didn't offer his customary grin but the expression on his face, one that read loud and clear he was interested, sent delicious little chills down my body. He passed by me, and I couldn't help glancing at him from over my shoulder only to see that he was walking backwards to keep his eyes completely on me. As you can probably guess, my body responded to his nearness. My damn knees went weak again. He stared at me hungrily and openly in the middle of the cafeteria with all those eyes watching, so maybe he wasn't embarrassed by his interest in me, because it wasn't possible for him to be any more obvious. His attention would most likely be short-lived though, but I planned to enjoy it while I had it.
