The Pandora Project (5 page)

*****

              As I walk in to English the next morning I am not sure what to expect. Should I say something to John? I don’t want to appear desperate like everyone else, but I also don’t want to propagate my snobbery. I settle for a simple, “Hi” as I pass his desk.

He looks up from his notes and smiles, “Hey,” he responds and that is that.
It’s great that he doesn’t jump up, rip my gloves off and turn me over to the authorities, but deep down I was hoping for a little more. Of course, that is awfully rude of me, wanting more than I am willing to give.

I take my seat and try to concentrate
on
As I Lay Dying
, but I can barely understand Faulkner on my best days, so there is no way the lecture will mean anything to me today. Thinking about the conversation with my parents, I look over to John and feel a pang of guilt. We decided that my dad would see his mom, but would never touch her without gloves on. It will be hard, especially since he always shakes hands, just to get rid of any radiation poisoning if nothing else. But even just a small touch could prolong her misery.

Aware that
I’m staring shamelessly, I turn away and fidget with my book, trying to fall into the words. No matter what I do, my thoughts revolve around John. How hard it must be to start in a new school a month into senior year. How hard it must be to slowly watch your mother die. It dawns on me what we are studying and the irony seems cruel. I won’t contribute to his misery. I resolve to be nice, but to always remember the danger he poses. I can do this.

The morning continues to drag with nothing more than pleasantries exchanged between classes.
Lexi is able to keep her mouth mostly shut and only drops fairly obvious hints to both John and I. Is he going to join us for lunch? What I can talk to him about that is a safe topic? I’ll just keep the conversation focused on him. If he has moved his whole life I am sure he has enough stories to keep us busy.

Lexi and
I head to our regular table in the courtyard. The weather is getting cold enough that our days of eating outside are numbered, we are probably already pushing it, but the fresh air is worth the chill. She chatters on and on about possibilities for Friday night and I shoot them down as quickly as she can come up with them. Lots of things are out when you don’t want to touch other people.

F
acing the concession area, John is able to come up behind me without me noticing. The first clue he is there is his breath on my hair. “Can I sit with you guys again?” he asks, looking a little uncertain.

“Of course,” I say graciously, determined to be nice.
I am not a monster
, I deserve to have someone like me…just for me.

At precisely that moment, Jake motions for Lexi to come join
him over by the door. The moment is clearly staged and only gets worse when she rolls her eyes dramatically and says, “I better go see what he wants.” Quickly packing her things, she rushes to leave John and I on our own.

W
atching her go I mutter, “She’s not getting any points for subtlety,” under my breath.

John laughs, “Can’t say I mind much.
I wasn’t really sitting here for her anyway.”

Pink spreads across my cheek, a warm
blush at the compliment. His boldness is both a shock and an opportunity. It will be easier to find out what I need to know if he is open. “No one else has caught your eye yet?” I ask, wanting the answer to be no, but knowing my life will be easier if it is yes.

“I don’t like shooting fish in a barrel,” he responds without missing a beat.

“So let me get this straight, you are only interested in me because I am the only one around here
not
interested in you?” I give him the most skeptical look I can muster.

“Funny what people are attracted
to, isn’t it?” He bites into an apple and stares at me. I don’t want to be the one to break eye contact, but he is much better at this game than I am. “Besides, who ever said that was the only thing I am interested in?”

“Well, I don’t mean to be rude, but what else do you know about me?
I wasn’t exactly Little Miss Personality during our last conversation.”

“I don’t want to sound shallow, but gorgeous green eyes and a great body are enough to get anyone interested.
Plus, I have a thing for what color is this?” he asks, reaching across the table and twisting a rope of my hair around his finger.

Not knowing
how to respond I once again show my sparkling personality by leaning away from him and staring dumbly. I mutter something about being a blonde and it being natural before I let an uncomfortable silence fill the space. He once again rises to the social occasion.

“Not to mention, any girl who can knock out physics problems like you do and is ‘focusing on her education’ is worth some effort.
Don’t you think?” I sincerely want to be worth his effort, but I am a very dangerous person to love.

“Well, I would prefer to be wanted for my brain than my body.
I’m sure after I pop out a couple of kids this body won’t be what it is today, so I would hate to lose all appeal.” Finally, a witty comeback that might put him in his place.

“Are you offering to test that theory?” he asks slyly.

Knowing I asked for it, I just laugh. “Not today.”

It is impossible not to find his quick wit and easy manner appealing.
OK, so there aren’t a lot of choices around here, but I have never met anyone like John Sullivan. I try to distract myself by doing a rundown of his potential abilities and for the first time my private game backfires. I find his list of strengths long and intimidating, instead of distracting me it makes me wonder even more why he is sitting with me.

We both take a minute to eat a little of our lunches.
We both reach for our drinks at the same time and our fingers come closer than I like causing me to jerk mine back quickly. Feeling silly as he raises an eyebrow in my direction I mutter, “Sorry, knee jerk reaction.”

“Don’t worry about it, I remember, you have a thing with hands.”
He smiles and I know he is trying again to put me at ease.

“
Yeah, it’s really not that big a deal,” I grab my soda and take a long drink. He just looks at me expectantly. This time I am able to wait him out.

“If it’s not that big of a deal, do you think you can tell me about it?”

Sure, Lexi,
he doesn’t even ask
. I guess I should be thankful he is asking me instead of getting the story from other people; it is classier, that is for sure.

“It
’s just a skin condition called Dyshidrosis. It causes blisters to form all over my hands. When they pop it is really painful and the cracks make me super susceptible to infections. It’s just kind of embarrassing and I’ve been really sensitive about it since I was little. People used to look at me like I had leprosy or something. My dad designed these special gloves for me that keep medication constantly applied and keep the blisters away.” I flex all the fingers on both hands showing off my gloves.

“I have a thing with hands because I am embarrassed and because I
’m afraid of infection through contact with other people.” I hope my story doesn’t sound as phony to him as it always does to me. I have told the story so many times I can practically tell it in my sleep. Most people buy it without any questions. By laying on how embarrassed it makes me, almost everyone backs off so as not to make me feel worse. My dad thinks of everything.

“Is it just contact with your hands?” John ask
s, seeming very interested in my answer.

I’m not sure how to answer.
I normally avoid contact of any kind as much as possible. Lexi is the only person outside of my family that had broken through my barriers enough to offer a hug or link arms. Funny how much contact you can avoid by making yourself unapproachable. I must be losing my touch with John. “Just my hands… although I am kind of a germaphobe.”

He reaches across the table
to tuck a piece of my hair behind my ear. While still shocked by his nearness, I am ready this time and back away before he can make contact. “I washed my hands right before lunch, and I promise I bathe regularly.” The lightness of his words doesn’t match the intimacy of his previous touch or the tone of his voice. He just stares into my eyes and I realize I am hopelessly outmatched.

Wanting to know more about him and needing to get the conversation away from me, I ask, “Where all have you lived?”

I didn’t realize he was still leaning in so close until he sat back in his chair and the distance between us increased significantly.
Run away, Paige, run away
. Dad is right, this kid is dangerous, but not necessarily for the reasons he thinks.

“All over the place, sometimes only staying in one place for a couple of months at
a time.”

“Where, all over the place?”
I ask, wanting a real answer and hoping he is not purposefully being evasive.

“I was born in Texas, moved to California, went to Alabama for a couple of months.
From there we went to Germany, then Italy, Virginia for a couple months, back to Texas and finally to D.C.” As he had been saying the places he had been numbering them off on his fingers. He does a quick recount and ends, “Yep, eight places, nine if you count here.”

“How old are you?”
I ask, astonished he has lived so many places.

“Eighteen.
I have a late birthday so I just missed the cut-off in Alabama where I started school. I turned eighteen two weeks ago.”

“Happy Birthday, huh?”
Don’t be sucked in
, every word he says melts my heart even more toward him.

“Yeah, it was a great one.
Saying goodbye yet again, starting over someplace new and knowing your mom probably won’t be around for your next birthday. Good times.” His eyes are so sad I want to cry for him.

I flinch
when he mentions his mom. Here I am, Doomsday in a body and my life doesn’t seem half as pathetic as his. “I’m sorry,” is all I manage.

“Aren’t we just a pair, I’m a sob story and you have dishydosis.”

“Dyshidrosis,” I correct automatically which just makes him smile.

“OK.”

“OK,” I repeat.

Again, he shocks me with his boldness, “What makes you so special, Paige?”

“I’m not special.”

“Are you sure?”
I feel like he can read everything about me, his eyes boring into mine. “There’s something about you…like you are trying to fade into the background when everything about you screams for everyone to notice you and love you.”

Horror, confusion and a lovely happiness fight for room to be felt in my body.
He doesn’t mean it, he is just trying to get close to me…but why?

“I couldn’t be more normal,” I lie while looking him straight in the eye.
“What makes you so special, John? What makes you think I would share my entire life with someone I just met?”

“Because you need me.
You need a friend other than Lexi, and I want to be that friend.”

“Why?”

“Because you intrigue me with your dyshidrosis and your
thing
with hands.” He must feel I am getting really freaked out because he trades in his serious expression for a brilliant smile. “Plus, I’m pretty awesome myself.”

Laughing I am finally able to break free of the trance he had me in.
For the first time in a long while I look around and realize that most people have cleared out. I quickly pick up my barely eaten lunch and head to my next class with John in tow. Having left early the previous day I am not sure what classes we share for the remaining two periods, but I am sure I need a break from him.

As if reading my mind, he pulls out his schedule.
“I have Calculus and Nebraska History the next two hours.”

“We’ve got Calculus together but you are
on your own for NH. Thank goodness. I thought I would die of boredom the first time around, I feel for you!” Nebraska History is normally a sophomore class but it is a prerequisite for graduation so he would have to take it in order to graduate. I imagine he has it far worse than I did, I didn’t have sophomore girls swooning all over me.

“Yeah, it isn’t my favorite so far.
I tried to get comp credit for Virginia History but Principal Flynn wasn’t going for it. You guys must love your history.” He rolls his eyes to show what he thinks of our illustrious history.

“I know, it is amazing they can fill an entire semester with it.”

We walk together to Calculus. Instead of being nervous and scared by his presence, his quiet composure has me strangely at ease. Why am I so comfortable with him? How am I so comfortable with him? All I’ve ever needed is Lexi; Jake rounds out our group quite nicely. I’m content.

We ha
ve other friends and acquaintances, but no one is really part of our group and I am the consummate third wheel. I know I have never let people get close to me, it just complicates my already complicated life; I just didn’t know how much I want to get closer to others. I am particularly surprised by how much I want to be close to John. After our conversation he also feels dangerous, but that just makes him a kindred spirit.