In the Middle of Nowhere (4 page)

Through our correspondence, I quickly
realized that Michael had a passion for writing. He’d send me his
newest poems while I kept him updated on anything that was
newsworthy in school, which, most times, wasn’t much at all. He
never asked me for my phone number and I didn’t dare ask him for
his. It seemed as though we were strictly pen pals, which in
today’s age of technology, seemed archaic.

Back in Mass, I had always hung out with a
lot of boys as friends, but never had a boyfriend. I had plenty of
crushes on guys, it seemed like a new every week. But for the most
part I kept my crushes to myself. I didn’t want my girlfriends
teasing me about it or letting the guy know. I’d be way too
embarrassed. And if I did find out that a boy liked me, I would do
everything in my power to avoid him at all costs, even if I had to
go out of my way and take a longer route to class so I wouldn’t
have to bump into him in the hallways. I guess deep down I wasn’t
ready for a relationship.

Why was I even thinking about Michael Cooper
and having a boyfriend in the same thought process? What was wrong
with me? I didn’t even really know him. And why did I think that he
would tell me, of all people, when he was coming back to school?
I’m sure Erica was mistaken, but she said it with such
conviction.

As I walked down the hallway toward the
library, I caught myself looking for Michael, peeking around
corners and searching darkened doorways as though he’d be hiding in
them.

I had to get a grip. I opened the library
door and vowed not think about anything else but finishing my paper
and handing it in on time, which happened to be during the very
next period.

• • •

I had just finished typing up my bibliography
when the bell rang signaling the end of the period. I started to
freak out because the printer jammed as soon as I began printing my
paper.

My history teacher, Mr. Winkler, was such a
stickler for getting assignments in by their due date. That should
be his name. Mr. Stickler. He would automatically deduct ten points
for every day it was late and I was not about to let that happen. I
prided myself on being a straight-A student.

I finally fixed the jam, printed the paper
and ran for my locker so I could grab my history book. Another five
points off a future quiz grade if you didn’t bring your book to
class everyday. He was so demanding.

I tried to get down the hallways as quickly
as I could. There was too much congestion as students made their
way to their next class. The library was on one end of the school,
while my locker and history class where completely on the
other.

I finally rounded the corner to the hallway
where my locker was located. I pushed and shoved through the crowd
as I made my way toward the end of the long corridor.

Too late. The bell rang.

Kids dispersed and the hall completely
emptied in a matter of seconds. There was no time left. I sprinted
toward my locker and worked my combination as fast as I could. It
was stuck! These lockers were the worst and I thought for a split
second that maybe Tessa Anderson wasn’t lying all those months
ago.

“Damn it!” I took a deep breath and tried
again.

All of a sudden an arm grazed the side of my
head as a hand came to rest on my metal locker above me.

“Where’s the fire?” the unfamiliar voice
asked.

Unsure, I turned around and looked up. I
recognized that smile immediately. Erica was right. Michael was
back.

CHAPTER
SIX

Michael Cooper stood to the side so I could
work my combination. I was so nervous; I could barely turn the
dial. I couldn’t bring myself to look at him and could feel myself
getting flush. I realized that I had only really looked at Michael
face to face one other time in homeroom when he sent me the little
note with wings.

It also hit me at that moment that I had
never really heard his voice until now, except for when he would
announce his presence during Mr. Singer’s roll call with a raised
hand and a “Here”. In a way, I felt like I knew him well, but as I
stood there next to him, it seemed not at all.

“Where you headed?” he asked as I finally
opened my locker and found my book.

“History.” I slowly rose and finally looked
him in the eyes. My heart started beating faster and louder than
ever before. I was sure Michael could hear it. He smiled. I did,
too. He looked thinner and paler than I had remembered, but his
eyes seemed less brooding and genuinely happy to see me.

“I’ll walk you,” he offered.

“I’m already late for class. Aren’t you gonna
be, too?”

“I’m at the nurse,” he winked as he slipped a
hall pass out of his coat pocket and showed me. We started down the
hallway.

“Then why are you down here?” I asked as I
met his gaze.

His eyes penetrated me. “To see your baby
blues.”

Embarrassed, I looked away. I could tell he
was staring at me. What was I doing? I was already at least five
minutes late for class, yet was strolling down the corridor as if I
didn’t have a care in the world.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming back
today?” I asked, hoping to end the awkwardness.

“I wanted to surprise you.” He smiled.

We finally reached the corner where my class
was located.

“I really gotta go. I’m so late and might
even get a detention,” I frowned.

“See ya’ later?” he wanted to know, his face
full of hope. “Maybe?”

“Maybe.” I waved as I turned, hurried off and
ran toward my history class and Mr. Stickler’s room of doom.

• • •

Because I was so late to class, Mr. Winkler
punished me by deducting five points from my essay grade plus
gracing me with an after school detention. Mr. Winkler was more
than a stickler; I swear he was a sadist.

Even though the detention was only for a half
an hour, I missed the ferryboat back to the island, which meant
that I had to sit around and wait another hour for the next
one.

I never did see Michael in school the rest of
the day. I thought maybe I’d run into him during lunch or even as I
walked around the hallways after my sentence was served, but I
didn’t. Instead, I ended up at my locker and decided to clean it
out while I waited for the ferry. I sat on the newly polished tile
floor and sorted through my folders so I could throw away old
worksheets and quizzes. I hurried when I realized I had only ten
minutes until the late bus would be leaving to deliver me and the
other misfits back to the Portland pier.

I crawled around on my hands and knees
gathering discarded papers off of the floor. As I went to pick up a
pile of old math sheets, a flashy, fuchsia cowboy boot pounced on
the top and stopped me.

I looked up and saw Tessa Anderson staring
down at me.

“Excuse me. Can I please have my trash back?”
I asked both baffled and annoyed. She was so rude.

Slowly she removed her foot. “Sure.”

I continued to gather my garbage and held
onto it for dear life. Why the hell was Tessa Anderson bothering me
anyway?

“Why were you in detention?” she wanted to
know.

“’Cause I was late to a class,” I answered as
I stood up. “What’s it to you?”

“Just wondered what someone like you could
have done in order to get a detention.”

“Someone like me? What’s that supposed to
mean?” I asked indignantly.

Tessa flipped her hair and shrugged. “I don’t
know. You don’t strike me as the type of person who’d get into
trouble.”

“Well, I don’t think I should have gotten a
detention for being a few minutes late to history, but Mr. Stickler
… I mean Mr. Winkler is an idiot.”

“Mr. Stickler, huh?” Tessa teased. “I’m
telling him.”

“Go right ahead!” I said as I slammed my
locker shut.

Tessa smirked. “I just might.”

I rolled my eyes and walked away. “I’ll deny
it,” I yelled over my shoulder as I quickly made my way toward the
closest steel door exit and entry back to freedom.

• • •

After I finished my homework, I, once again,
signed onto my MyWeb account hoping to get a message from Michael.
Nothing. I clicked on his page and didn’t notice anything new right
away. When I looked under his profile picture, I realized that he
had updated his quote. It read, “Stars at night, shine so brightly,
but in the day, you’re the beam that guides me.”

I twirled the end of my hair and thought, was
he writing that for me? I couldn’t help but wonder.

I wished I could have called one of my girls
back in Massachusetts to ask their opinion, but I hadn’t talked to
them in a while and the one time when I did mention Michael, all
they did was criticize him and his appearance. I wasn’t going to
set myself up for getting mad at them all over again.

And what was up with Tessa Anderson? I
thought about it all the way on the boat ride home. I knew very
well why she was in detention. Everyone did. Erica had told me that
she had to serve over a month’s worth for getting caught in the
back seat of Connor’s car. Even if I hadn’t known the reason, it
never would have dawned on me to ask her and it surely was none of
her business how I ended up in there. Anyhow, after thinking back
on the whole day, I was completely baffled by everything; Michael’s
sudden disappearance and Tessa’s unwelcome appearance.

I decided I had nothing to lose and sent
Michael a message via MyWeb. I gave him my cell phone number and
told him to call me “whenever.”

My stomach growled loudly, so I signed off my
computer, left my bedroom and headed toward the kitchen in search
of something to eat. On the way, I passed by my mom’s room and
peered through the cracked bedroom door. It was only eight o’clock,
but my mother was already in bed asleep.

I tiptoed and held onto the railing so the
old stairs wouldn’t creak underneath me and wake her. When I
reached the bottom, I found my brother sitting in front of the
television, eating a bowl of cereal and watching cartoons.

As much as I wanted to strangle him
sometimes, I felt kind of sorry for him. He had to fend for himself
at such a young age because my mother wasn’t very attentive. He was
a sweet kid most of the time. He looked cute and cuddly in his
Sponge Bob pajamas.

James looked a lot like my father when he was
a boy. Like my dad, James, too, had dark brown hair, but his eyes
were a lighter blue. James’s face was covered in freckles and he
had the thickest eyelashes ever. He was scrawny and short for his
age. I wondered if he would look exactly like our dad when he grew
up and became a man. A part of me hoped so.

“James, do you want me to make you something
else to eat?”

“No thanks.”

“Okay.”

I went into the kitchen and searched the
cabinets for a snack. I couldn’t find anything to munch on because
there was hardly any storage room for anything, especially food, in
the little house. Because my uncle’s house was only a summer place
for him, it was on the smaller side, more like a bungalow than a
house.

The main floor had a tiny bathroom with just
a toilet and sink, an eat-in kitchen, a small family room and a
small area off the kitchen for the washer and dryer. Upstairs there
were three small bedrooms and a full bathroom for all of us to
share.

Even though the bathrooms and appliances were
updated, the house still had a musty smell to it, which I would
only notice when I was away from it for a long period of time.

The whole inside of the house was painted a
boring white. My uncle wanted all his walls to be as pure as an
untouched canvas. He felt it was the best way to showcase his
treasured collection of photographs and paintings done by local
artists.

The overall drab décor consisted of
uncomfortable furniture in outdated, bold plaids, as well as Early
American furnishings scattered throughout.

The house itself seemed as though it was
sagging on one end and when you walked toward the left side, felt
as if the whole foundation sloped downward. Some days I felt sorry
for the old place. It seemed to feel as weary and defeated as I
did.

As much as I hated to, I opted for some Coco
Puffs like my brother. When I went to grab a cereal bowl from the
shelf above me, my arm accidentally knocked over the box that had
been left opened on the counter top. The little puffs of cereal
quickly scattered to the floor below.

“James!” I yelled.

“What?” he innocently called from the family
room.

“Never mind.” What was the point in scolding
him now? I bent down to clean it up. My tabby cat, Princess, ran
over to smell the mess to see if it appealed to her. It wasn’t
Fishy Puffs so she turned her little black noise up at it and
sauntered away.

Just then my cell phone rang. I quickly stood
up to grab it off the counter and smacked the back of my head into
the sharp corner of the opened cabinet door.