The Ylem (10 page)

“Tristan helped Kalista with a crazy dog on
Friday,” Valerie continued, pulling Owen by the jacket.

“He did?” He was also amazed. I could see the
wheels turning in his mind. “He should be playing for our team—and
have you seen his friends? We could be state champions if we had
them.” He furrowed his brows, putting a lot of weight on his words.
“I can see already all the marketing buzz. ‘Two real warriors
playing for the Warriors’” He held his hand in the air as if
showing a headline. “It’s a shame.”

“Why?” I asked.

“Elan and Mingan are not allowed to play
because of their Apache culture or something like that. They don’t
even go to gym class,” he explained. “And Tristan doesn’t go
either, but that’s another issue.”

“What issue?”

“You see,” Valerie continued, “he has some
type of heart condition. He has to skip sports. The only physical
stuff he does is swimming. He goes from time to time to RAC down in
Wingfield Street, and since the news about that got out, well,
almost half of the senior year enrolled into the club.”

I felt terrible. Not because all those girls
went to stare at him in a strip of nothing, with drops of water
dotting his toned body, but because he was young, and how could a
young person suffer from a heart disease? Especially a person like
him.

All the bitterness in me suddenly
crumbled.

“Look,” Valerie told me, looking pointedly
behind me.

I followed her stare. Tristan was coming our
way with Elan and Mingan behind him. My breath got stuck in my
throat. I wasn’t sure if it was out of excitement or irritation.
Maybe both. I was getting used to this emotional turmoil he roused
inside of me.

He glided next to me, impervious, his
beautiful eyes fixed somewhere else—in the cracks of the wall,
perhaps? Neither Elan nor Mingan looked at me. They just tagged
after Tristan, up into the stairs and disappeared.

Honestly, I’d hoped something in Tristan
would spark an apology, but obviously, that hope had been clearly
in vain. With or without a heart disease, there was no excuse for
his stupid behavior.

Perhaps this was the real him, which
shouldn’t have been a surprise—the ‘hot guy code’ remember?

“I thought he was going to say hi to you or
something.” Valerie said.

Owen wrinkled his nose and added, “That dude
is bipolar.”

“No.” I glared at them. “It’s just that
people like him don’t lower themselves to our world.”

Valerie narrowed her eyes in confusion.

“I totally agree.” Owen frowned. “I’ve always
thought he has this I-am-at-the-top-of-the-world attitude going
on.”

I wanted to agree with him but bit my tongue.
I would have ended telling them about the hot guy code, and I
didn’t want to make a joke out of myself. Valerie didn’t seem to
agree, though. She was about to snap something back to Owen when I
decided to stop her. “I think he’s mad at me.”

She paused and looked at me. “Mad at
you?”

“I have no idea.” I shrugged. “And I don’t
really care.”

“But—”

“Valerie, I really don’t want to talk about
him anymore.”

“Okay,” she yielded, letting down her eyes.
“But let me tell you something first.”

It would keep her away from asking questions.
“Shoot.”

“I’ve never seen Tristan make the first move
to talk to someone, other than being nice when girls approach
him—or being nice when he dismisses them. So if he did it with you,
if he took the first step, then there must be a reason, don’t you
think?”

Yes, an impulsive mistake. “I don’t know. And
I don’t want to miss class.” I was surprisingly eager to get to
Algebra II.

“Sure, I'm dying to go to the algebraic
inferno,” Owen said sarcastically.

The class was unendurable, of course. Mr.
Wilson’s prattling about polynomial and quadratic functions wasn’t
really clicking in my brain. My neurons only seemed to react to the
stimulation generated by Tristan’s thoughts.

I hated when people did what Valerie had done
minutes ago. They stuffed someone’s mind with silly ideas that led
to stupid conclusions—like thinking he could be interested in me,
even though he had a model as a girlfriend. Or just wanted to be my
friend, even though he hadn’t shown any sign of it.

I rolled my head, stretching my neck
muscles—tense and sore under the skin—and spotted Owen doing some
doodles in his binder. We were in the back of the classroom, so it
was harder for Mr. Wilson to find out Owen’s artistic
self-discovery. I peeked out the window next to me. The gray skies
still lingered, seeming to mirror my gloomy state.
The dreariest
day I’ve seen in Ruidoso so far
.

The bell rang. I jumped in my seat and jerked
back my head. The most tedious class had finally come to an end.
Everybody hustled to escape the room as if an emergency evacuation
was going on. I grabbed my tote and joined Valerie and Owen to
migrate to our next class.

Only Dean was waiting for me outside, leaning
against the wall with crossed arms.

“Hey,” he smiled, straightening up and
pulling the strap of his backpack over his shoulder. “I need to
talk to you.”

Valerie eyed me with a small, secret smile.
“I’ll save you a seat in class.”

“See you man.” Owen tapped Dean on his back
and followed her.

I really didn’t have time to chat. “Look
Dean, I need to go, maybe—”

“Don’t worry. It’s not going to take more
than two minutes. It’s about Saturday. I thought we could go to the
Winter Park to do some tubing. It’s the last weekend before they
close.”

“Tubing?” I asked. It wasn’t exactly what I
had in mind, but it sounded interesting.

He nodded. “It’s four miles from
downtown—pretty fun stuff.”

Fun was something I could definitely use.
“Sure.”

“Cool.” He grinned, staring at me with that
odd sparkle flickering in his eyes. “See you at lunch.” He paused
to look at me one more time and rushed down the hall.

Tubing.

I couldn’t help but smile at the thought of
it.

The next three eternal days were a hard copy
of the first. The morning was the only time where I saw Tristan,
and only by a split second. Naturally, he ignored me, his eyes
fixed way above me—looking for more cracks on the walls, I
supposed.

Chloe was always lurking around, as if on
surveillance mode, which must have deepened Tristan’s resolve to
stay away from me. I still couldn’t understand why. He even ditched
English classes. It was some type of twisted Hide-and-Seek. I was
the one expecting to see him, and he was the one hiding from
view—my view.

Still, there’d been one tiny mistake in
Tristan’s game. We shared the same French class on Thursday—a
bombshell for both, really. Since he’d been gone last week, his
presence had been as surprising for me as mine surely had been for
him. But that hadn’t changed anything. He’d just given me a quick
glance when I’d passed right beside him and had gone back to look
down at the space in the table between his elbows—surely looking
for more cracks or scratches. Whatever.

It was clear that any kind of interaction
with him or his friends was totally finito. Something inside my
chest felt kind of odd because of it, but I was okay with the whole
thing. And thank God Saturday came up quickly. I needed it. Only
Dad’s never-ending questions stopped me from letting relief wrap
around me. “And where is this exactly?” he said, trying to look
confused.

“I already told you, Dad. It’s a winter park
four miles away from downtown,” I answered, taking the damp clothes
from the washer to load them in the dryer.

He looked at me with suspicion. “Since when
do you like snow sports?”

“Calm down, detective Hamilton. Tubing is not
a sport, it’s recreational. Besides, I’ve never tried it before and
it seems really fun.”

“Sure it does, but I’ve never pictured you
doing it.”

“There’s always a first time, right?” I
finished with the loading.

“And who’s this boy you’re going with?”

I closed the dryer and frowned at him. “He’s
just a friend.”

“I’ve seen how boys look at you,
Kalista…”

“It’s the truth,” I snapped. “Valerie and
Owen aren't going because they went to Alamogordo for the weekend.
So don’t start on me.”

He paused and pondered on the situation.
“Okay…but remember to be careful.” He bent his head forward.
“Really careful.”

“Don’t worry, Dad, I'm not going to kick the
bucket on the snow,” I assured him. He bent lower, eyes mockingly
menacing. “Okay, okay,” I raised my hands in surrender. “You don’t
need to worry about Dean either. Happy?”

He drew back, crossing his arms over his
chest. “Satisfied. If he tries to do something, you know what to
do. Pull up your knee and kick him in the groin.”

“This is ridiculous.” I rolled my eyes. “It’s
not what you’re thinking. He’s just a friend, really.”

“Maybe.” We left the laundry room and went
into the living area. “Still, you have to understand this is
strange for me. It’s the first time you’re going out alone with a
boy—except for Stephen.”

Of course, I did understand him. I was
surprised, too. But it was more of an act of desperation than an
act of enthusiasm. “Leave Steve aside, Dad. He doesn’t even
count.”

“What happened between you two, anyway? You
were best friends.”

“So now this is about Steve?” I asked,
irritated. It was a useless topic. “I don’t have time for this. I
need to go and change.” I headed to the stairs.

“Honey,” he called.

I turned back to look at him.

“Please, be careful.”

I nodded with a smile and hurried
upstairs.

Damn, snow clothing was annoying. Actually,
now I remembered why I didn’t like snow stuff in the first
place—besides the speed factor. I looked like a human balloon. The
only thing missing was the helium to make me float in the air. And
the rubbing noise of my black pant against my skin when I walked
was infuriating. It sounded like I was wearing diapers.

I peeled off my puffy ivory jacket and stayed
only with a baby blue hoodie.

At least, I look less pumped up
.

The sound of rubber against gravel reached my
ears. Dean. I hurried to close the balcony doors and galloped down
the stairs with the jacket in my arms. I didn’t want Detective
Hamilton to open the door and start attacking him with awkward
questions.

“Bye, Dad!” I shouted, scampering out the
doorway.

“Have fun!” he said from the couch. “And—” I
opened the door. Dean was climbing the steps—“I’ll be waiting for
you for dinner!” my dad called.

I smiled at Dean, blushing. “Okay!” I said
embarrassed, closing the door behind me. I felt like a little girl
with a silly curfew.

Dean grinned, holding his car keys in one
hand. “Ready?”

“Yeah, let’s go.” I wanted to leave my dad’s
territory as soon as possible.

Before climbing inside his white SUV however,
I had a moment of hesitation. That prickly fear I had every time I
got into a new car was crawling its way to the top. I hoped he
wasn’t one of those speedy demons who left dark tracks on the
roadway. I couldn’t stand that. But I decided to give it a try
anyway and slipped inside the car.

“By the way,” he said. “You look really
nice.” He smiled and twisted the keys on the ignition.

“Thanks,” I said, bowled over. If this
aerostatic costume was nice for him, then he was really easy to
please. But a friend could say that, right?

Winter Park was located inside a complex
named Eagle Creek Sports. Big tourist buses filled the parking lot
along with other vehicles—a bit more crowded than I’d expected.

Dean picked a double tube for us. Being so
close to him bothered me. And his stare wasn’t encouraging either.
I was beginning to think my dad had been right all along. I enjoyed
Dean’s company, but not in the way he seemed to enjoy mine. He
clearly wanted something more than a friendship with me and I’d
completely ignored it. The signs had been obvious, but I’d told
myself that maybe things were different this time.

Well, they weren’t. Now I was going to be
trapped with him in a super tight tube because of my stupid
stubbornness.

But it didn’t go so bad after all. I did get
nervous when we propelled down the hill the first time, but once we
started with the twists, the excitement took over and the
adrenaline flowed through my bloodstream. There was no Tristan
thumping in my head, just the sound of the tube against the snow
vibrating in my ears. It was like a drug—which is why I agreed to
go on a second round of slides with him.

The second round though, turned into more
rounds. It wasn't until the hill became boring that we decided to
go somewhere else for more exciting slides.

“Where are we going exactly?” I asked Dean as
he started the engine.

“Ski Apache. It’s not too far away from
here.”

My dad had told me about that place. It
belonged to the Mescalero Apache Tribe and it was one of the main
attractions for tourists around here. “Isn’t that only for skiers
and snowboarders?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged. “But there’s one spot
where I go sometimes that is great to slide.”

“Like a secret place, you mean?”

He nodded. "I have a deal with a guy that
works there. He lets me take the lift for free.”

Even if it was somewhat illegal to do this,
my mind screamed at me to give it a try “Okay, but…how steep is the
slope?”

“Don’t worry. I'm not doing a black one with
you. We’re going for an intermediate slope.”

The black ones, as the name itself implied,
were the advanced trails. Their spooky vertical angle was only for
people who enjoyed bloodcurdling speed. I couldn’t even imagine how
fast a tube could slide down a trail like that.