Lark (4 page)

              “So has anyone asked you to the dance yet? And by anyone I mean, has Grey asked you since I know you won’t say yes to anyone else?” She smiles slyly as we begin to pack up our things.

             
“No, and he probably won't.” Even I can hear the sadness in my voice. How pathetic. “Just friends, remember?”

             
I consider telling her about Ethan asking me earlier but I can't make myself say the words out loud. There is no way I plan on admitting that fact to anyone. Ever.

             
“Oh come on! You should see the way he stares at you whenever you’re in the same room! He ignores every other girl, much to their dismay.” She laughs a little at that fact because it’s true, they are all jealous. I’m sure it completely baffles them that he ignores them. They aren’t used to being ignored by the opposite sex like I am.  It’s not that I’m bad looking, but I’m definitely not the prettiest girl in school. No, that title would probably go to Kinsley, with her raven-black hair that falls in perfect waves just past her shoulders, and her mile-long, tan legs. Or maybe even Lila, with her killer green eyes, and well-developed chest. My pixie-like features make me look much younger than most girls my age and boys tend to think of me as being more
cute
than
hot
. Of course two of the hottest girls in school think it’s weird that the gorgeous Greyson St. Clair hangs out with me. Even
I
think it’s weird. 

             
I hesitantly return her smile, because even though I don’t understand it, he does ignore other girls.

             
“He bought me a present.”

             
“No way! What did he get you?” She squeals.

             
“I think it’s some sort of fairy-tale. I don’t really know. I mean, It’s really old, but it looks kinda cool. I haven’t had a chance to really look at it yet.”

             
“He bought you a book? That’s kinda perfect.”

             
“Yeah, it was kinda sweet. Unexpected, but sweet.”             

             
“Seriously, Mia, there is no way that guy thinks of you as just a friend.” She bumps shoulders with me as we enter the hallway.

             
“I don't know,” I reply quietly. Even though I have wondered about the possibility of Grey feeling more than friendship for me, I don't want to get my hopes up.

             
“He looks at you so...I don't know...protectively?”

             
“Oh gee. Is that sorta like 'big brotherly'? Yay,” I say dryly.

             
“No, that's not the right word.” She pauses for a moment then says, “Possessively. Yeah. That’s it. He looks at you possessively.”

             
“That’s so not any better.”

             
She punches me lightly in the arm. At least, I think it was supposed to be lightly, but I’m kind of a wuss, and she has really boney hands.

             
“Ow!” I flinch, which makes her laugh, so I take advantage of the opportunity.

             
“Hey, so have you finished the essay for English yet?” And just like that, Hannah is distracted from my lack of love life and is ranting about poor Hester Prynne’s.

             
I don't have any classes with Grey, but we do have the same lunch period, so we always go out to eat together. Open lunch is the best thing to ever happen to Manhattan High School. We usually just go to Little Caesars, and today is no exception. I have a slight obsession with their Crazy Bread.  We sit outside the little restaurant and eat on our usual bench.

             
“So what did you think of the book?” he asks after we have been eating silently for a few minutes.

             
“I love it!” I say too quickly. He cocks an eyebrow at me. “Well, I think I
will
love it. I haven’t exactly had a chance to read it yet, but it looks…interesting.”

             
“Good. I hope you like it and, uh, find the information in it useful,” he replies, clearing his throat uncomfortably.              

“Useful for what?
  Like playing Trivial Pursuit?”

             
“Not quite, I was thinking more like for life in general,” he states cryptically.

“Um, okay.” I’m a little confused as to what life lessons I could possibly learn from this ancient story book. I reach down for the leather bound book and rub my hand across the weathered cover which has been intricately engraved with a beautiful swirly sun symbol.

              “Don’t you enjoy reading fairy tales?”

             
“Um, no. Not really,” I admit. “Most of them are kinda twisted.”

             
The Disney version definitely didn’t show Cinderella’s step-sisters cutting of their toes and heels in order to fit that glass slipper. I was a little shocked the first time I opened up Grimm’s Fairy Tales.

             
“I think you will find this particular one interesting.”

“Yeah, I’m sure I will.” I am not really sure what else to say. Sometimes he can be so strange. I take a bite of my breadstick

              “Homecoming is this weekend, correct?” he suddenly asks.

             
“Yep.” I choke a little on the chunk of breadstick I just put in my mouth.
Brilliant response, Mia. Just brilliant. And classy. Definitely classy. Gah
. My cheeks redden.
Why am I so uncouth? No wonder he just wants to be friends.

             
“Well, I was kind of wondering if you were planning on going?” he continues, a slight pinkish tint appearing on his cheeks.
No freaking way.
Is he really about to ask me what I think he is about to ask me? Maybe Hannah was right. Thank God I didn't say yes to Dandruff boy
.

             
“Um...well, nobody has asked me yet or anything,” I say slowly as I inwardly try to calm my now frantically beating heart. He doesn't need to know that I did in fact have a previous invitation because it's not like I ever considered saying yes to Ethan.

             
“Would you like to go with me?”
Oh my freaking gosh! He is asking me!
“Just as friends, you know,” he continues, successfully deflating my previously swelling heart in the process.

             
I should have known better than to get my hopes up. But since I want to go, and I do, after all, have a dress, I say, “Sure. Just as friends. Sounds great.” I continue to eat the rest of my lunch in silence, hoping that I’m not pouting on the outside as much as I am on the inside. 

             
I just don't get it. When we are together, it always seems like there is more to us than just friendship. It's not like he has ever kissed me or even held my hand, but sometimes I get the feeling that he might be tempted to, and then something always changes his mind to make him pull back. Are boys always this confusing?

             
I spend the rest of the afternoon contemplating whether I should tell Hannah now or later about Grey asking me to Homecoming. If I tell her now, she is liable to start squealing, thereby attracting unwanted attention from members of the Greyson St. Clair Official Fan Club. There is a moment that I’m tempted by the thought, but my more logical side wins and I decide I'll just tell her after practice when there will be less people to witness her over-exuberance.

             
I head out to my car to put my book-bag away and grab my practice bag. Grey is waiting for me like always after school. The fact that this is now our routine is sort of amazing and sort of confusing at the same time, but I just go with it. He seems to be his usual cool, collected self but there is a slight reluctance in his eyes that I don't quite understand.

             
“How was your day?”  

             
“Good, yours?” I ask out of habit as I dig out my keys from my bag. I see him frequently throughout the day, in between classes and at lunch, so it's not like he doesn't already know, but that doesn't seem to ever stop him from asking me anyway.

             
“It was fine. Have fun at practice.” He smiles as he holds up his hand to say goodbye and then gets into his shiny, black truck.

             
When I get home after practice I’m exhausted and starving. I grab a snack and make myself comfortable in my favorite reading chair. I pull out the book that Grey got me and start to flip through the pages. I start to read the first chapter but I quickly lose interest. There are too many foreign words I can’t even begin to pronounce. I flip to the back of the book to see if maybe there was a key or something but no such luck. How frustrating! I hate not knowing how to say the words I am reading. I spot Paul’s laptop on the writing desk in the corner and decide to do a quick Google search.

I type in
Ljósálfar first. I click on the first link and discover that it’s the Norse word for Light Elves. Grey gave me a book about elves? I’ve never read a book about elves before. I usually stick to vampires, werewolves and wizards, but I guess I can be open to something new.

              It takes me a couple of searches, but I eventually find a pronunciation key. Ljósálfar is apparently pronounced: Lyos-ahl-far.

              Geez, who comes up with these names?

             
“Hey kiddo, what are you doing?” Paul’s voice makes me jump as he joins me in the family room.

             
“Oh! Hey, Paul.” I close the laptop. “Sorry, I didn’t ask.”

             
I have a perfectly fine desktop computer in my room that I’ve had for a few years. I was just too lazy to go upstairs. I normally didn’t just help myself to Paul’s things. I feel a little guilty about it even though I know that he is not one to get upset over something like that.

             
“I don’t mind. What were you researching?” he asks as he sits down on the other recliner. He is only a year older than mom, but while she still looks pretty young, his salt and pepper hair and laugh lines make him appear his age. Not to mention the fact that he wears pleated pants and socks with sandals.

             
“Nothing much. Just looking up how to pronounce a word I didn’t recognize in this book I’m reading.”

             
“What’s it about?”

             
“I haven’t gotten very far yet, but I think it’s about elves.”

             
“Hm, interesting. Christmas elves or
Lord of the Rings
elves?”

             
“I’m not really sure,” I tell him as I flip through the pages of the ancient book.

              “Well, your mom wanted me to tell you that dinner’s ready.”

“Okay, I’m going to change real
quick and then I’ll be back down.”

I run up the stairs leading to my bedroom two at a time. I toss the book Grey gave me onto my desk where at least six other brand new books are patiently waiting for their turn for my attention. I change into my favorite pair of comfy pants and the t-shirt I designed for cheerleading camp last summer and bound back down for dinner.

              “Looking forward to the big game this weekend?” Mom asks as she finishes scooping Maddie’s plate.

             
“Yep, a little nervous after today’s practice though,” I admit.

             
“Why?” she asks.

             
“Coach wants me to do an arabesque 540. I still haven’t pulled it off,” I say as I scoop my plate.

             
“What is an arabesque 540?” Paul asks. I try to explain that the maneuver requires me to balance on my right leg while my left leg is stretched out straight behind me, then my stunt group tosses me up in the air and I twist a complete circle and a half and hope they catch me at the bottom.

“Ah, well, yeah, that sounds super cool.” He looks completely confused.

              I laugh as I twirl another bite of spaghetti around my fork.

“It’s a pretty collegiate level stunt,” I explain. “I plan on meeting my stunt ground before the game to practice it a couple more times.”

              “I'm sure you will be perfect,” Mom interjects. “I’ll be sure to have my camera ready.”

              That makes me smile because, seriously, she has never attended a game without her video camera.  She is definitely one of those moms who obsessively takes about a million pictures a day and records even the smallest details of her children's lives. It was annoying when I was growing up, but now that Maddie Rose is here, I understand her obsession. Every single thing the baby does is amazing to me and I’m just her big sister. “Was Hannah nominated for Queen?”

             
“Of course,” I reply brightly. Hannah is easily the most likeable girl in school. If anyone deserves to be Homecoming Queen, it's definitely her. “I think she has a pretty good shot at the crown.”