Lark (3 page)

I stifle a yawn as I drive down the main road in town that leads up to the school. I’m exhausted this morning, but not because I stayed up late reading. Nope, last night I actually was responsible and went to bed at a decent hour, but I had another really strange dream that caused me to lay awake for hours after it roused me. It was the same dream I had before where I wasn’t able to see anything because it was so dark and then all of a sudden there was a burst of light surrounding me. It’s so weird. I heard the same voice calling my name, but I still have no idea who the voice belongs to.  All I know is that it was the most beautiful sounding voice I have ever heard, sweet and perfect, almost musical, like a bird or something. She spoke to me again, but this time when I woke up I couldn’t remember what she said. I stayed up for hours trying to remember what she told me. The words were right on the tip of my tongue, but I couldn’t spit them out. Usually when I get like that I try to Google it, but for some reason I doubted typing in “what is the mysterious thing that the beautiful voice in my dream said?” would answer the nagging question.

              I pull into the parking lot at school Monday morning, and immediately my eyes find Greyson, waiting for me like he does every day.

             
“Hey,” I say as naturally as possible. My heart is beating about a mile a minute and speeds up even more the closer I get to him. It's so loud, I swear, he can probably hear it. The thought causes a blush to creep across my face. He looks good today in his faded jeans and white button down shirt with the vertical blue stripes. It's my favorite because the stripes bring out the blue in his eyes.

             
"Hello," he replies with a crooked smile. As we start toward the school, neither of us says anything. Although the silence is not awkward or uncomfortable, I just want to hear his voice, so I blurt out what must be the lamest conversation starter known to man.

             
“So, how was your evening?”

             
“It was quiet. I didn't have any homework, so I went hiking until nightfall.”

             
I don't know many details of Grey's personal life since he isn't too forthcoming with the information, but I have managed to catch on to bits and pieces every once in a while. His love of the outdoors is obvious. He is always hiking or camping when he isn't at work or school. Probably explains the sun-kissed glow his skin exudes.

             
“How was yours?” he returns.

             
“Eh, I mainly just worked on my English essay. Nothing too exciting.” I shrug as we enter the building and head over to my locker. He waits until I have gathered the books for my first few classes before heading in the direction of his locker.

             
“I have something for you,” he says as he pulls out a rectangular silver package from his brown leather messenger bag.

             
“What is it?” I ask when he hands it to me.

             
“It’s just a book I thought you’d like.” His expression is awfully serious for something as simple as a gift but it only lasts a moment before he flashes me a knowing smirk and adds, “You know, something different to read for a change.”

             
“Ha, ha. Can I open it now?” I ask eagerly. I like presents, who doesn't?

             
“If you want to. But I should go before I’m late for class. If you can stand to wait, you can open it when we go to lunch.”

             
I wonder why he would give me something if he didn’t want me to open it right away. I am way too impatient to wait for later so I definitely want to open it now, but I think he might want me to wait. My expression must be conflicted because he laughs at me.

             
“Go ahead. Open it. Seriously. I don’t mind. I’ll see you later, Mia.” He gives me a casual wave as he walks away.  Kinsley and Lila are standing nearby gazing adoringly at Grey. Their eyes follow him down the hall, and once his butt is no longer in view, they glance back at me in disbelief. I give them a small wave and smile inwardly at their obvious jealousy because even though Grey and I are “just friends”, he bought me a present! And despite their best efforts, he still doesn't acknowledge any of them. That means something, right? The first bell rings so I put the present in my bag. I decide I will try my best to wait until lunch to open it.

             
As I enter my first period, I see a tall, gangly figure leaning up against my usual desk. Flakes of dandruff visibly float down from his dirty blonde hair onto my desk, and I can't help but shudder in disgust.

             
“Hey, Mia." His eyes light up as he greets me, standing a little too close for my comfort. The boy has personal boundary issues.

             
“Hi, Ethan,” I force myself to smile while subtly stepping sideways and slipping into the nearest desk.

             
“I sorta have a question to ask you,” he says, his hot morning breath washing over my face. Did he not feel it necessary to brush his teeth this morning? He runs a hand through his stringy hair, causing a new flurry of flakes to snow down on the new, clean desk I have just claimed. Maybe I can get up and move to a different desk once he sits down? That would probably be obvious though, and as repugnant as I may find him, I don't really want to hurt his feelings. I have to admit it though, I am tempted.

             
“What's up?” I try my best to hide my repulsion.

             
“I was sorta wondering if maybe you would go to Homecoming with me?”

             
“
Oh, well, gee..um,” I struggle to come up with a reasonable excuse. “You see, well, I, um, have to babysit my little sister this Saturday.”

This is the fourth time he has asked me out this year. The
boy just won’t take the hint. How many different ways can I turn him down before he finally just gives up?

             
“
Oh, really?” He looks crushed, and I feel guilty, but not guilty enough to change my mind. I would much rather not go to the dance at all than go with Ethan and his personal boundary issues.

             
“
Yeah, lame, I know, but it's their, um, anniversary so I can't really tell them 'no'.”

             
My parents' anniversary really isn't until June, but he doesn't need to know that.

             
“
I bet you could get out of it if you tried,” he says with his eyes narrowed suspiciously at me. I'm a terrible liar so I wouldn't be surprised if even he could tell I was full of crap.

             
“
Sorry, but no. I can't do that.”

             
“
What if I got some Sophomore to babysit for you?” He suggests impatiently.

             
“
I already told them I would do it. I'm not going to ruin anybody's Homecoming, so, no, that won’t work.
”
I'm quickly losing my patience here.

             
“
But it's our Senior year. Don't you want to go?” He's getting frustrated and I have no idea why he is pushing this so hard. Obviously he can't take the hint that I'm not interested.

             
“
Not really, it's just a dance,” I tell him with a casual shrug. “Sorry, but I'm babysitting.”

             
“
Okay, well, maybe next time.” He slumps back to his own desk.

             
“
Yeah, definitely,” I lie.

             
I start getting my book and notebook out when I see the silver package. Hmm, well, a little peek wouldn’t hurt anything.  I pull it out and set it in my lap so the teacher won’t notice. I peel the ends back as quietly as possible. It’s definitely a book. I peel back the paper a little further so I can read the title:
Álfheimr: A History by Winston Cressey
.

A history book?
That’s weird. I wonder what would make him think I would like a book like this? I open it up and the first sentence starts out with ‘
Once upon a time
…’

Is it a fairy tale?  I do like reading fantasy stories so I guess a fairy tale would be about the same. I’ve never heard of this one, but I guess I’ll give it a try since it is from Grey. The book is really ancient looking though with its yellowed pages, and I am afraid if I open it, it’s going to fall apart. I start to skim through the pages when a loud cough interrupts my thoughts.

“Ahem, Mia?” Mrs. Coleman interrupts me. “It’s your turn.”

“What page are we on?” I ask sheepishly. I rea
lly like Mrs. Coleman so I hate that she caught me not paying attention in her class.

“Page 102.”

              I put my new book away and open the one our class was currently reading,
The Scarlet Letter
.

             
The rest of my morning drags on slowly. I don't really enjoy school anymore. I’m pretty certain Senior-itis does in fact exist and that the disease is currently running rampant through my veins. I’m not a bad student, and my classes are actually pretty easy. Some are even enjoyable. English isn't terrible when my personal space isn't being invaded by boys with bad breath and dandruff. But that probably has a lot to do with the teacher. Anybody that can make reading Nathaniel Hawthorne tolerable, is A-OK in my book. I also really enjoy my German class. I didn't think I would take a foreign language credit two years in a row, since only one semester is technically required, but German is actually pretty fun. 

             
However, I’ve not been so lucky when it comes to my science elective this semester. It makes me wish I would’ve just stuck with Choir. I dread going to Chemistry, mainly because the teacher is awful. Mr. Shilling decided at the beginning of the year that I am an idiot just because I happen to sport a cheerleader uniform once a week. It doesn't matter how hard I work or how well I do on the tests, he just doesn't seem to like me much. I try not to take it personally, but it sure doesn't make me look forward to sitting through his lectures. At least Hannah is in the class with me.

             
Hannah Peterson is a perky strawberry-blonde with the curliest hair I’ve ever seen and a cute splattering of freckles just across her nose. She is slightly taller than me, but of course just about everyone is, and is the other “flyer” on the cheerleading squad. She’s also my best friend.  

             
As I enter 4th period Chemistry, she is already sitting at our usual desk. When she sees me, she smiles, and I can practically feel the excitement radiating from her. I know she has been waiting, probably not so patiently, to talk more about Seth asking her to the upcoming Homecoming dance. She texted me as soon as she got home, but because she was out past her curfew her parents took her phone away for a week.  I wasn’t sure how she was going to survive.

             
“Mia!” She greets me. “Did you have a good weekend?” 

             
Even though she is a good friend and probably really does want to know if I had a good weekend or not, I also know that she really wants to gush about Seth, so I keep my answer brief.

             
“Yep, how was yours?”

             
“Oh my goodness! It was fantastic!” She practically squeaks. Hannah and Seth have had an on-going flirtation since summer. Even though we both are still fairly pale, we spent a ridiculous amount of time sunbathing at the pool where he was a lifeguard. They have yet to make their relationship official though, so we have been crossing our fingers that Homecoming would be the turning point.

             
“Tell me everything!” I plead eagerly.

She bought her dress weeks ago just hoping he would ask her. It’s a gorgeous, one shoulder, asymmetrical, sheer aqua number, and it suits her coloring and personality perfectly. She had persuaded me to get a Homecoming “just in case” dress as well, but since the dance is just days away now and I still hadn’t agreed to go with anyone, my pretty dress will probably remain in the dress bag I brought it home in. She proceeds to tell me all about how he asked her, and I must admit, he did
good. I try to concentrate on what she is saying, but my thoughts drift to a certain dark haired, indigo-blue-eyed boy of my own dreams.

“Miss Carrington?” My head snaps up at the sound of my name. “Are you and Miss Peterson about finished or may I start my class?” Mr. Shilling is standing over our shared desk glaring down at us. My face reddens when everyone turns to look at us, but Hannah is quick to deflect the attention.

“Floor is all yours Mr. Shilling.” She smiles widely and a few people laugh quietly before Mr. Shilling begins his lecture for the day.

One of his few redeeming qualities is that he almost always ends class a few minutes early. There was a rumor a while back that the reason is because he sneaks off to his car in between classes to smoke a cigarette since he can’t do it on school property. I don’t know if it’s true or not, but I wouldn’t put it past him.