I grumbled under my breath, though I gave up on my irritation. It wasn't directed at my friends anyway and they didn't deserve my foul mood. Rachel, in her psychic friends network way, nudged my shoulder with hers. “I haven't seen much of him either, you know. He sits in the back of class and doesn't talk to a soul. So it's not just you he's rude to.”
I wouldn't meet her eyes, couldn't let her know that her words comforted me in some strange way. I needed to let this go. It was painfully obvious Clayton Reed and I were not destined to be BFFs anytime soon. He was a social misfit, a pariah and apparently had no desire to interact with the world in general. And while I wasn't the most likable person out there, even I couldn't work my limited charm on someone who wanted nothing to do with me.
Daniel jumped down the last three steps outside of the school, landing on his feet with a dramatic flourish. Rachel and I gave him an obligatory clap. He was such a show off sometimes. “Seriously though, Mags, that dude is super odd anyway. It's probably best you steer clear of him. Rumor has it he was shipped here because he had been expelled from his last school for calling in a bomb threat or something. Guy seems unhinged if you ask me.” Daniel remarked, walking backwards down the side walk.
“You're going to fall on your ass, Danny.” I laughed as he came off the curb and stumbled into the street. Daniel straightened himself and gave a quick look around to see if anyone witnessed his moment of un-coolness.
But my friend's words interested me. Bomb threat huh? Though I wasn't one to take much stock in rumors. Last year I had broken my arm after lamely falling down the stairs at home in the middle of the night when I wanted a snack. I never told anyone but Rachel and Daniel how it happened, but somehow the story started circulating that I had broken my arm after a confrontation with a mugger in the city. I had apparently fought back and slammed my arm into a parked car as the villain tried to take off with my purse. The story was so detailed, I almost believed it myself. Where do people come up with this stuff? Though I never corrected anyone because the made up story was way better than the truth.
We reached Daniel's overly masculine diesel truck and he gave me a quick hug. “Like I said, don't worry about some dude ignoring you. You always have my full attention.” He gave me a sloppy kiss on the forehead, laughed and jumped into the driver's seat before I could smack him. He gave Rachel and I a wave and then pulled out of the parking lot. Rachel sighed as he pulled away. I gave her a gentle nudge. “He's a goob, Rach. Sure we love him, but he's Daniel and he won't ever change.” I tried to tell her supportively. Rachel gave me a shaky smile. Her unrequited crush was becoming harder and harder to watch. And she was having a harder and harder time pretending that Daniel's blase attitude toward her didn't hurt.
“You heading home?” I asked her, trying to change the subject. Rachel shook her head. “Nope. I've got to be at work in fifteen minutes. I'm going to have to change when I get there. Sorry. You staying for cross country?” She asked me, pulling her keys out of the front of her book bag.
“No, practice was canceled. I was hoping you'd keep me from feeling like an unsociable loser and give me something to do.” I pouted playfully. Rachel laughed. “You want to get together over the weekend? Maybe see a movie or something?” She asked me. Then she looked down at her shoes, suddenly finding them really interesting. “I'm sure Daniel will be with Kylie, so let's not bother asking him to come.” Rachel added, her voice getting all wobbly when she said our friend's name. I didn't address the issue again, and instead smiled brightly at her.
“Sounds good. Call me when you get home tonight and we'll make plans.” Rachel nodded and we parted ways, each going toward our respective cars. It was nice having my wheels back. The two days of being without them had been torture. I was lucky that I only needed a new battery, so I was able to pay for it and the towing without having to bum money off my parents. Though that didn't change my desperate need for a job ASAP.
I was thinking about going home to look online for gainful employment when I saw him. Clayton Reed. By now the school parking lot was pretty much cleared out and it almost seemed as if he had been waiting until he could sneak out without anyone noticing. But, of course, I noticed.
One thing was definitely certain. Clayton seemed to be making a supreme effort to avoid contact with the rest of the human species. So it wasn't surprising that rumors were flying like crazy about him. Aside from the one that Daniel had told me, I had also heard that he was in the Witness Protection Program. I had also heard some girls in my English Lit class, saying in breathy whispers, that they had heard he had a terminal brain tumor and had come to Davidson so he could get treatment at the hospital at the University of Virginia that was twenty minutes away. I had rolled my eyes at that one. Then there was the rumor that he was actually an indie rock star and was laying low to get some down time from the craziness of fame. It really depended on who you talked to as to what story you heard. I was certain that none of these scenarios were remotely accurate but there was something very mysterious about Clayton, that was for sure.
Why did I feel this persistent need to see him? To talk to him, and figure him out? Maybe it was the feeling of kinship at the way he shunned everything high school. Maybe it was the way he was shut down with everyone else but would breathe fire when he spoke to me. Yeah, he was a dick during our two interactions, but he was passionate and furious and so different than the closed off persona he exuded the other ninety-nine percent of the time.
So when I saw him walking across the parking lot, I went on some halfcocked instinct and made my way toward him. His head was down and his hands in the pockets of his signature green army jacket. He must have gotten a new MP3 player, because I could see the wire of the ear buds peeking out from his collar.