8. Bad Luck
I woke up to the same routine as any other morning, until I looked in the mirror – reminded that there was nothing routine about my life. I took in my nightmare of a hairstyle and knew there was no way I could get away with not washing and drying it. I was already going to draw attention - I didn’t need to look like I’d slept on the streets as well.
My head still throbbed but the golf ball had significantly reduced to being almost flush with my forehead. I was able to tolerate showering and brushing my hair, and my eyes only watered slightly when I dried it. Maybe I would be able to survive today after all.
Then I saw Sara’s dropped jaw when I slid into the car. Sara didn’t say anything to me, and I couldn’t read her expression with her oversized sunglasses covering most of her face. She handed me a bottle of water and aspirin. Then again, maybe today was going to be one of the longest days of my life.
“Thank you,” I said as I dumped a couple pills in my hand and swallowed them down with several large gulps of water. I tried to act natural, despite the tension.
She barely glanced at me. I flipped the visor down to examine my cover-up in the mirror, trying to figure out what was making her so withdrawn. My bangs were swept across my forehead to conceal my bruise, and the bandages were barely noticeable under the fan of hair.
“Okay,” I demanded. “Why aren’t you talking or looking at me?”
“Emma,” she breathed in exasperation, “look at you!”
“What?” I defended, glancing back up at the mirror. “I think I did a pretty good job of covering it up.”
“That’s what I mean.” Her voice was shaky. It sounded like she was going to cry. “You should never have to cover anything up. I know you won’t tell me what happened, but I know you didn’t fall. Will you at least tell me what it was about?”
“What does it matter?” My voice was small, not anticipating the strength of her reaction. I wasn’t expecting her to act like nothing happened, but I didn’t want her to cry.
“It matters to me,” she choked. I watched her blot her eyes with a tissue under her glasses.
“Sara, please don’t cry,” I pleaded. “I’m okay, I swear.”
“How can you be okay with this? You aren’t even angry.”
“I’ve had the weekend to get past it,” I admitted. “Besides, I don’t want to be angry. I don’t want to let her get to me. I’m not okay with this,” I said pointing to my head, “but what other choice do I have? I’ll deal with it. So please don’t cry. You’re making me feel horrible.”
“Sorry,” she murmured.
We pulled into the parking lot, and she slid off her glasses, blotting her eyes while looking in the rearview mirror.
“I’m okay,” she breathed, trying to produce a smile.
“How bad does it look? Be honest.”
“You actually did a decent job hiding it,” she admitted. “I’m having a hard time because I know the truth.” And then again, she didn’t know the half of it.
“If anyone says anything, because I know they will, tell them I slipped on the wet floor and hit my head on the coffee table.” She rolled her eyes at my lie.
“What, do you have a better one?” I countered.
“No,” she sighed. “Keep the aspirin. I know you’ll need them.”
“Ready?” I asked tentatively. I didn’t like seeing Sara upset, especially over me. The anger and sadness were in complete contrast to her personality. It was uncomfortable to witness.
She released a heavy breath and nodded.
I received a few questions about my injury from some of my soccer teammates and other brave gossipers, but most people just stared. I should’ve been used to the stares after Friday’s disaster. I wished I invisible once again - or at least ignorant of the gossip that was always happening around me.
I found my way to English class without having to explain my fall to more than two or three more people. I sat in my usual seat, pulling out my paper to pass in.
“Does it still hurt?” Evan asked from the chair next to mine. At that time, Brenda Pierce approached the seat she’d been sitting in since the first day of class and scowled to see it occupied. He smiled politely and shrugged.
“Well, there’s one person who’s not going to like you,” I said wryly, trying to avoid the question.
“She’ll get over it,” Evan stated with little interest. “So, do you still have a headache?”
I drew my eyebrows together and reluctantly admitted, “I took some aspirin this morning. So, it’s better, as long as I don’t turn my head too quickly.”
“That’s good,” he said casually. Everyone else had asked what happened; no one bothered with how I was feeling – until Evan.
“How was the rest of your weekend?” Evan whispered.
“Okay,” I answered without looking over at him.
Ms. Abbott began with the class discussion, handing out our newest reading assignment after we passed in our papers. She also handed us a short story which she allowed us to begin reading in class after she’d given us our writing assignment.
“Are we talking, or not?” Evan whispered when Ms. Abbott stepped out of the room.
“We are,” I glanced at him, confused. “Why?”
“I can never figure you out. I want to make sure I’m on the same page today.”
“I’m not much of a talker,” I confessed, turning back to our assigned reading.
“I know.” His answer drew my attention - he had that amused grin spread across his lips.
I wasn’t in the mood to inquire about his antagonizing grin and didn’t give him another glance for the remainder of class. I wasn’t allowing myself to be dragged into the mystery that was Evan Mathews, not today. I just wanted to get through the day with as little attention paid to me as possible. I wished it could have been that easy.
Evan escorted me to Ms. Mier’s Art class. He didn’t try to talk to me. But he’d inspect me with a concerned flip of his eyes every so often as I walked blankly through the halls, not looking at him or anyone else. I had to sever my emotional cord to escape the anger and shame that silently slithered through my head, disconnecting myself from the stares and whispers that followed me down the hall.
“Today you are going to take a walk around the school property and snap pictures of scenes that inspire you for the calendar entry next month,” Ms. Mier announced. “The final pieces will be displayed along the wall of the main entrance where the students and faculty can view them. A vote will decide the twelve pieces to make the calendar. The artistic creation that has the most votes will also be the cover of the calendar. Does anyone have any questions?”
The class was silent. Ms. Mier asked a couple of students to pass out the cameras from the storage cabinet.
“Are you submitting an entry?” I asked Evan, who was standing behind me with his own camera in his hands. I glanced back to catch him raise his eyebrows, surprised to hear my voice.
“I’ll submit a photograph.”
“Please meet back in the class in forty minutes to return the cameras,” Ms. Mier instructed.
The class emptied into the halls, heading toward the stairs that led to the back of the school. I opted to take the side stairs that let out at the football field and tennis courts.
“Do you mind if I come with you?” Evan asked from the top of the stairs. I looked up at him from the middle of my descent and shrugged with indifference. Evan followed me in silence.
When we exited, the cool air blew against my face. The refreshing breeze sent a chill through me, waking me from my stupor. I observed the brilliant colors of the foliage and proceeded toward the football field.
“Did your parents say anything when you came home soaked the other night?”
“They weren’t around,” he replied dismissively.
“Does that bother you – not having them around?” I asked the question without thinking, not expecting an honest answer since it really was none of my business.
But he responded. “I’ve learned to cope. It was easier when my brother was still here.”
“You live with your aunt and uncle, right?” he countered.
“Yup.” I bent over to take a picture of the field through the fence, twisting the lens of the camera so it produced a blur of color. I stood up and continued toward the wooded area behind the bleachers.
“Not easy?” Evan stated casually, like he already knew the answer.
“No, not easy,” I agreed. I wasn’t finding the need to lie - yet. We were walking a delicate line of disclosure, without revealing too much.
“Tight reins?” Another question that sounded more like a statement.
“Definitely,” I answered, still taking unfocused pictures of the green foliage mixed with hints of red and orange. “And you don’t have any reins.”
“I guess not.”
The wind blew my hair from my face, and Evan winced. My cheeks reddened, realizing he hadn’t noticed the bruise on my head until now.
“Prone to bad luck?” he asked, nodding to my head.
“Depends on where I am,” I answered without answering. I tried to brush my hair back across my forehead with my fingers, concealing the purple reminder of my bad luck.
“How many brothers and sisters do you have?” I inquired, switching the focus back on him.
“Just the one brother, Jared. He’s a freshman at Cornell. And you?”
“No brothers or sisters – just my two younger cousins. Is he anything like you?”
“Nothing. He’s quiet, more musically inclined than athletically, and is really easy going.”
I smiled at the comparison. Evan smiled back, and my heart woke up from its two day slumber.
“Where are you considering going for college?”
“Several schools in California mainly, along with a few others in the New York, Jersey area. I’d love to get into Stanford if they’ll have me.”
“I heard they were here watching your game Thursday.”
I nodded, now focusing the camera on the ground brush and zooming in to capture the details of the fallen leaves.
“Where are you looking?”
“Cornell, obviously, but I have friends going to different schools in California, so I may head back. I have time to figure it out.”
We continued our delicately balanced conversation until it was time to return to the classroom.
“You have a night game on Friday, right?” he confirmed as we climbed the stairs.
“Yes.”
“What are you doing after school, before the game?”
“Probably staying at school and doing homework or whatever.”
“Do you want to get something to eat?” he asked, hesitating on the landing before opening the double doors leading to the hall. I stopped, and so did my heart.
“And yes, this would be a date, so that we’re clear,” he stated with a smirk. I stopped breathing too.
“Okay,” I breathed, still unable to move. Did I really just agree to go on a date?!
“Great,” he said, producing a brilliant smile that caused my heart to catapult to life at such a frantic pace that it left me lightheaded. “I’ll see you in Trig.” He continued down the hall past the Art room.
I returned my camera to the supply closet and walked in a daze to my locker.
“What is that grin for?” I heard Sara ask from what sounded like a mile away. I brought her into focus, not realizing that I’d been grinning.
“I’ll tell you later.” The grin turned into a smile.
“I hate it when you say that,” she groaned, but knew she didn’t have time to interrogate me in between classes. I grabbed my books and headed to Chemistry.
Class went by so slow. I took notes automatically and worked on the lab assignment with my chemistry partner. I kept looking at the clock to find that only five minutes had crept by. Finally, the bell rang.
“I hope you feel better,” my chem. partner offered. My forehead crumpled. “You seemed kind of out of it today.” I grinned, which only made her more confused.
When I arrived at my locker, Evan was waiting for me.
“Sorry, decided not to wait for you in class,” he explained with a grin.
Sara walked up to her locker. “Hi Evan.” She gave me a suspicious look from behind his back. I looked into my locker, pressing my lips together to fight the urge to smile.
“Can you tell me what you’re allowed to do?” Evan asked as he walked alongside me.
“Not much,” I answered seriously, my grin deflating.
“But you can do anything that involves school, right?” he confirmed, trying to put the pieces together.
“Pretty much. As long as I have a ride and am home before ten o’clock.”
“Would they know if you weren’t doing the school thing that you said you were doing but still followed the ten o’clock rule?”
I sunk onto my seat with my stomach in my chest. I could guess where he was going, and it was a place I was too afraid to even consider.
“I don’t know. Why?” I tightened my eyes to try to read his thoughts.
“Just wondering,” he said, still thinking. My attention was snapped to the front of the room when we were requested to pass our homework forward.
“Have you ever purposely done something you knew you weren’t supposed to do?” Evan continued with the inquisition on our way to Anatomy.
“Like what?” Again, not liking this line of questioning.
“Like sneaking out of the house, or saying you’re at the library but go to the movies instead?” I looked at him with wide eyes. I swallowed the lump lodged in my throat at the thought of it.
“I guess not,” he concluded by my speechlessness, and probably audible gulping.
“What are you thinking?” I finally asked.
“I’m just trying to figure this out.”
“What out?”
“Us,” he said as he entered the classroom and took his usual seat.
I stumbled to my seat, not breathing again. He was so confusing. I wished I had warnings when he was going to say things like that.
“Mr. Mathews,” Mr. Hodges declared, “would you please join Ms. Thomas at her table. It appears her partner is no longer in this class, and there is no point in having two single tables, especially when we have our dissection labs.”
Upon hearing this announcement, I stared down at the black surface of the table to conceal the blood that was rushing to my face.
Evan sat next to me and said, “Hi,” like he was introducing himself to me for the first time.
I released a blushing smile and quietly replied, “Hi.”
After Mr. Hodges began his lecture on the bones in the hand, I scribbled on a blank piece of paper, Are you already assuming there’s an us?
Evan wrote in response, Not yet.
I still didn’t understand what that meant and drew my eyebrows together, so he wrote, I’m getting ready for when there is.
My heart felt heavy, like it just fainted. There was a huge grin on Evan’s face. I wasn’t as amused. His questions and comments were making me dizzy. I tucked the paper in the back of my folder and stared at my notes, trying to conceal my bright red cheeks with my hair.
“See you later,” Evan said after class as he walked away. I was left looking after him, baffled. I knew there was a motive behind his line of questioning and the insane statements that followed, but I was so lost.
Sara was waiting for me, leaning against our lockers when I arrived. I opened my locker to return my books without saying anything. I knew what she was expecting.
“Do not do this to me,” she demanded impatiently.
“How was your date with Jason this weekend?” I attempted to redirect her attention.
“Not this time you don’t,” she scolded, still way too serious for Sara. “We’ll get to me later - talk.”
I paused, trying to digest what I was about to tell her.
“We’re going on a date after school on Friday, before our soccer game. We’re getting something to eat,” I confided. I wasn’t sure what else to say.
“Wow,” she responded with a smile that made me flush with color once again. “That’s really great. I really like this, Em. I have a good feeling about him.”
“I’m glad you think so.”
She flashed her eyes toward me, not understanding my reaction.
“I still don’t get him, Sara,” I admitted with a heavy sigh as we tread down the stairs toward the cafeteria. “He asks these questions and makes these cryptic remarks. I feel like I’m trying to read between the lines, but I’m still coming up blank. And then when I have an opportunity to ask him what he means, he disappears.”
“I know he’s been collecting his surveys from people and has a couple more interviews for the article that’s due tomorrow. He’s interviewing me at the beginning of Journalism class. Maybe that’s where he keeps disappearing to.”
“I’m not really worried about where he’s going,” I corrected, knowing she was trying to put me at ease. “The timing of when he leaves is always after he makes some remark or asks a question that I need him to explain. That’s what’s driving me crazy.”
“Like what?” she inquired.
“I don’t even know where to start.”
“Do you like him?” We pulled the chairs back at our table in the back corner of the caf.
“I’m still trying to figure him out. But I’m getting used to being with him in class and walking down the halls together. I don’t have the urge to push him away like I did before. So maybe he’s wearing me down.”
“Or maybe you like him,” Sara countered with a devious smirk.
Before I could answer, Jason approached our table with a tray of food.
“Hey Sara,” he greeted, hesitating before sitting next to her.
“Hello Jason,” she beamed, shifting in her chair to face him. I suddenly felt like I was witnessing something that wasn’t meant for a third pair of eyes.
“I’m going to get something to eat,” I announced to ears that were deaf to my voice.
On my way back to the table with my lunch, I caught Sara and Jason smiling absurdly at each other. I hoped I didn’t look at Evan that way. I’d feel like an idiot if that’s what everyone saw whenever he was around me - although it looked nauseatingly adorable between Jason and Sara. The ogling was enough to deter me from returning to the table, so I went to the Journalism room instead to get a head start on my article.
Since the class was in the computer lab, no one came into the room, besides Ms. Holt, who grabbed some things from her desk and checked on my progress. She didn’t have a class after Journalism, so I stayed during study as well. I buried myself in my homework to avoid thinking about Sara’s reaction that morning or Evan’s persistent interest. But my mind drifted towards those unavoidable thoughts anyway.
I was overwhelmed by the whirlwind that had forced its way in, turning everything upside down in such a short amount of time. I was losing control, and it was making me panic. I was having a hard time staying focused on what had always come so naturally before. The end was within sight, and I couldn’t jeopardize everything and let it all slip away now.
So, if I was going to make it to college (in one piece), I had to avoid these panic-inducing situations, like the party - or anything else that distracted me for that matter. That included… dating. My heart sank in my chest at this realization. But I knew it was what I had to do – I had too much to lose.
“There you are,” Evan declared as he entered the room. “I was wondering where you’ve been.”
“Hi,” I responded, looking down at the keyboard.
“It’s definitely quieter in here,” he observed, then noticed my avoidance. “What’s going on?”
“I can’t go on a date with you,” I blurted in a rush. “I need to stay focused on school and my responsibilities. I can’t afford distractions. I’m sorry.”
“I’m a distraction?” he asked in bewilderment.
“Well… yes, you are. The fact that I think about you at all is a distraction, and I can’t commit myself to any more extra curriculars.” That came out way worse than it did in my head.
“Are you comparing our date to Art club?” I couldn’t tell if he found it insulting or amusing.
“No.” I sighed in frustration. “Evan, I’m not good at this. I’ve honestly never been on a date in my life, and I’m just not ready. I said it. Is that good enough for you?” My faced turned crimson with the spontaneous confession. I continued to reveal too much to him, and that was a part of the control I needed back. There was too much he couldn’t know, and I couldn’t keep slipping up.
He tried poorly to suppress his signature grin. I grunted in annoyance and threw a paperback book at him from atop my pile.
“I always bring out the best in you, don’t I?” He released a short laugh as he avoided my throw. “Okay, no date. But we can still hang out, right?”
“As long as you promise not to ask me on a date, mention us as if we were an entity, and no comments about sweaters,” I insisted. I realized my demands were ridiculous and didn’t make much sense, but it was what my insubordinate heart would need to survive a friendship with Evan Mathews.
“Okay, I think,” he agreed in confusion, nodding slowly. “But you’re still talking to me, and I can sit next to you in class and even walk with you in the halls, right?”
“Sure,” I replied after hesitating.
“Can we hang out outside of school?” he pushed.
“When would we possibly do something after school?”
“Friday – no date, I promise. But you can come over after school, and we can hang out before the game,” he offered. “We can even do homework if you prefer.”
I examined him with narrowed eyes, trying to decide if he was serious. More importantly I needed to decide if I could handle the offer – a small voice was screaming at me to say no, but I didn’t listen.
“Alright,” I conceded. “But just as friends.”
“I can do that,” he replied with a smirk, “for now.”
“Evan!”
“Just kidding,” he said as he held up his hands in defense. “I can be just friends with you - no problem.”
The bell rang, declaring the end of the day, and the halls started to fill with the voices and footsteps of students anxious to leave.
“Good luck in your game today,” I said, gathering my books together.
“Thanks,” he replied. “I’ll see you tomorrow in English?”
“I’ll be there.”
He smiled as he walked away.
I remained in the seat, absorbing the results of my attempt to put my life back in order. It didn’t go exactly as I planned. I was supposed to cut him out completely, and a part of me was furious that I hadn’t. I knew I was taking a big risk involving someone else in my life. I tried to convince myself that I could be friends with him, not allowing him to get too close, while still remaining focused on school. But I wasn’t as confident as I should have been.
I fell back into my routine for the remainder of the day. My head hurt from running around during soccer practice, but I got through it. Sara was gushing about Jason and her date, so I was convinced that she was over the emotional trauma from earlier that morning.
Actually, the rest of the week fell into a familiar pattern as well. The only difference was that most of my classes, along with my journeys to them, included Evan. He respected my reserved disposition, keeping conversation within the boundaries of school topics. I continued breathing and my heart kept beating, although at times it still acted insane and sped up at the sight of one of his mesmerizing smiles, or when he’d look into my eyes a little too long. But even that I could push in the pocket of acceptance. I had my safe place back, and that helped when I had to cross the threshold of instability at home.
I avoided Carol as much as possible, although her slicing tongue always found an insult to carve into me every time she saw me. I had an away game on Tuesday and worked on the newspaper layout on Wednesday, so I was able to stay away until after dinner. On Wednesday night, I even felt brave enough to sneak into the fridge at two o’clock in the morning to take a filet of cold breaded chicken and a granola bar back to my room to quiet my rebelling stomach. I was back to focusing on surviving the next five hundred and sixty- seven days however I could.