Between You & Me (19 page)

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Authors: Marisa Calin

BOOK: Between You & Me
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SCHOOL GATE. THE NEXT MORNING.

I couldn't sleep. I lay awake for most of the night wondering if I could ever come to school again. My half-awake, half-asleep dreams played out the day ahead, with people staring and pointing, and now I have to go through it all for real. From the gate, the path to the steps has never looked so long. I dressed in black this morning, resigned. People take strength from other people being targets; it means they're not at the bottom of the heap. I've been staring at the path for a full minute before I notice that you're beside me. I smile a halfhearted “thanks for waiting”—you could have gone ahead to avoid being seen with me. People don't look too menacing from here but I'm sure that when I start to weave between groups, they'll notice me.

I take a falsely confident step toward school and the wave of fear I experience cements my decision to hide behind the gate until everyone has started to move inside. We stand side by side in silence as the figures flock through the doors
into school. I take a deep breath, and we make our move. Despite everything, it looks like you've decided to try to make me laugh. You're crouching beside the wall and have signaled, spy style, that you'll move out first. Sure enough, imaginary gun drawn, you've just darted through the gate and disappeared. After a moment, you appear around the wall and beckon me to follow, taking cover behind one of the big maples. With my life at an end, good luck getting even a smile out of me. But I have to make it through the day somehow so I reach you at the tree and we peer around it to see the crowd at the door thinning. You're standing straight as an arrow against the tree and you tug me behind it when I stray. I carefully take the two fingers that you were using for pretend firepower and press them to my temple. You frown and brush them gently against my cheek instead but just for a heartbeat. We stand quite still, without speaking, as if spy rules prohibit it. I think for a minute you might say something about this mess but then you look toward school and motion the all clear.

SCHOOL HALLWAY. TEN MINUTES LATER.

We're running the gauntlet. There was no way to avoid the hallways without going into class late, and then everyone would really stare. So far, it's like my fitful dreams—people
staring with varying degrees of subtlety—and someone just whistled! Even my nightmares didn't account for whistling. Now completely unable to pretend it's my imagination, I panic and want to run. You sense my flight instinct and catch me by the arm so I can't. Thanks to you, I make it to homeroom with tingling fingers and no blood below the elbow but without the added humiliation of being
the girl who ran through school.

HOMEROOM. SOON AFTER.

I'm curled in a chair in homeroom. First period starts any minute but I can't bring myself to go. I shouldn't have come to school at all. You kneel down in front of me.

YOU

Hey, Phyre Hazard. Don't let them bring you down.

I stare. You start to stand with fake resignation—at least I hope it's fake.

Well, hey, you gave it your best! Nice knowing you. Let me know if you need help crawling into a hole.

Even crawling into a hole does sound effortful right now. I grab hold of your sleeve and you meet my eyes with all the sensitivity you have left.

ME

That'd be great.

As I follow you out of the room, I remember that we have Mia second period. I'm not sure if that's a good thing or not but if I can talk to her maybe I'll stay sane.

MIA'S CLASSROOM. SECOND PERIOD.

I'm sitting with my eyes on the door. Mia's not here yet and every moment I'm an easy target. I've moved to a seat at the back of class so I can't feel the eyes like lasers burning holes in my back. No one has said anything yet—their looks say enough. The door opens. Mrs. Keen! It's Mrs. Keen with a stack of papers. I almost stand up and yell at her to leave. Where's Mia?

MRS. KEEN

Settle down, everyone. I'm covering this morning, so you can use this as a reading period. Miss Quin says there's plenty to do.

I shift in my chair, feeling heat rush to my face. I can't begin to read, I'll go crazy. That hole is sounding better and better. I see you looking at me and wait for the blood to stop rushing through my temples before I meet your gaze. There isn't much you can do from where you are; I have to survive this by myself. I take shallow breaths. I can make it through this day.

LUNCH.

To make that just a tad more difficult, earlier I saw someone who I don't even know open a text message and look directly at me. I didn't stick around long enough to find out why but, as I'm walking down the hall at lunch, I pass a gaggle of girls and get a pretty good impression over a ninth grader's shoulder. There's the picture, smaller, thank God, but recognizable, being sent around cell phones. The bravest kind of bullying! Pressing buttons and never even looking the person in the eye. I'd rather it still be like kindergarten, so when someone snatches something from you, you can thump them and then burst into tears. Even on a one-inch screen I can see the picture all too clearly. Terrific. My reputation as the crazy-infatuation girl is taking shape. Ryan catches my eye across the hallway, a corner of his mouth turning up as if to say
Ah, that explains it!
If I were any closer, I'd hit him.

FRONT STEPS. AFTER SCHOOL.

Finally, finally, the end is in sight. I bolt out of biology to find you waiting at the steps. All the air inside me is just bursting to escape. You're standing beside your bike, which I didn't see this morning. Looks like you knew I would need a quick getaway. Relieved, and feeling the threat of tears swelling in my throat, I climb onto the crossbar and tuck up my knees.

YOU

Ready?

More people are streaming from the front doors of school and I call to you as if you're a mile away.

ME

Go!

We pull away and from the first turn I know where you're taking me. The weather has darkened and heavy clouds have blackened the sky. The trees meet overhead, making a tunnel of this stretch of road. On sunny days there is perfect dappled light but today even the weather knows to be bleak and heavy. I plead with myself not to take the easy road—to deny it, to shout from the rooftops that it isn't true that I care
about Mia, just to be the same as everyone else. I can be brave. Feeling the wind against my face, I'm saved by the shadows of the trees. I feel you behind me, standing up, pressing into the pedals as we climb uphill. You power us forward, the dimness getting thicker and thicker as we leave town behind us. We come out of the trees, and when we reach the top of the hill, you stop, barely out of breath. I jump down. Here, at the highest point for miles, where it is always blustery and no one can hear me, I cry into the wind. And it's not pretty-girl crying. We stand side by side. You take my hand and hold tight, as if I'm hanging from a bridge and you're all that's holding me up.

MY KITCHEN. LATER.

Mom is at the sink, washing a teacup when I come in. I blink in the light.

MOM

Phy, hon, you okay?

ME

Mm-hmm.

I'm spectacularly unconvincing. I feel the prickle of tears again and even though I'm grateful she always notices when something's wrong, I head for my room.

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