“Collected Poems by W. B. Yeats,” she said. “He’s my favorite poet.”
“Is he dead or alive?” Evan asked.
“You don’t know a thing, do you?” Clara asked laughing.
“Not a damn thing,” Evan said. “Now why is he your favorite poet?”
Clara considered the question then opened her book. She flipped to a particular spot, placed her bookmark in it, then closed the book and handed it to Evan.
“When you get a chance today read ‘The Fisherman,’” Clara said. “And you’ll understand why.”
“Okay,” Evan replied taking the book.
“And then I want my book back,” Clara said.
Evan grinned. “You should probably work at a bookstore instead of me,” he suggested. “I think I told a customer the other day that she could expect the eighth installment of the Harry Potter series next month.”
Clara chuckled.
“There’s no eighth installment is there?” he asked teasingly.
Clara shook her head.
“Well, ask me anything you want to know about quantum mechanics and I can point you in the right direction,” he said.
Clara’s eyebrows shot up.
“Okay, that’s a lie,” Evan said. “I was just trying to impress you. I don’t know anything about quantum mechanics or where to find books about it in the store. But I am pretty good with calculus and I do know where those books are located.”
Clara nodded.
“Wow, I really feel like I’m talking a lot,” Evan said. He ran his hand through his hair again. “Am I talking a lot?”
“Maybe a little,” Clara replied. “But I don’t mind.”
Their faces turned a mutual shade of pink.
“What’s up man?” Clara looked up at the boy who addressed Evan.
“Oh, hey Chris,” Evan replied. They clasped hands in a kind of inverted handshake.
“You comin’?” Chris asked.
“No, I’m gonna hang out here,” Evan said.
“Okay man,” Chris said indifferently. “See you later,” and he walked to a seat on the other side of the room.
Evan turned back to Clara. “So I know your favorite poet. Who’s your favorite author?”
“I don’t have a favorite,” Clara replied. “There are too many good ones I like.”
“I imagine mine would be Stephen King,” Evan said. “If I had a favorite.”
“I can’t read scary stories. They terrify me. But I guess you like them?” Clara asked.
“He writes scary stories?”
The tardy bell drowned out Clara’s laughter as the remaining students hurried into class. She tried to concentrate during the lecture, but it was hard with Evan sitting so close. She wanted him to keep saying silly things to her to make her laugh. She loved feeling the laughter all throughout her body, making her warm and giddy. It made her forget about her troubles. It made her feel special.
She didn’t understand why he chose to sit beside her today. He always sat with his friends on the opposite side of the room. Were they wondering, too, why he chose to hang out with a nobody? She would not get caught up in the ridiculous idea that he liked her. But he did make a point to walk over to her and sit with her in the cafeteria. In front of everyone. And he did say she was pretty. Well, the exact words were, “You’re too pretty to say something so blasphemous.” He couldn’t know that she’d been mulling over those words since the moment he said them. And now he sat beside her in class when he never did that.
He was like the cat they used to have years ago that showed up one day, kept coming around for food but was never pushy about it, and before Clara knew it, the cat was sleeping with her in her bed. The image changed to Evan sleeping with her in her bed, and she jumped in her seat.
“Are you okay?” Evan whispered leaning over close to her.
She nodded, afraid to look at him. She was convinced her eyes would give away her secret thoughts.
Evan sat back in his seat and continued taking notes. He glanced at Clara from time to time, but she never once looked his way. He wondered what happened in her brain to make her jump like that. He hoped she realized that he liked her. How could she not figure that out by now? Still, he wanted to take things slowly with her. She seemed so scared and uncertain all the time. He wished he could take it out of her. Maybe if he kept talking to her like he was doing now and giving her space when he felt she needed it, she would eventually come around. He wanted into her life. He was dying to be invited.
When the bell rang, he wished her a good day and then left.
***
Lunch was much less frightening once Clara learned that Free or Reduced Lunch cards didn’t matter. No one paid any attention to her in line, and she began looking forward to the time when she could melt into the background of the large cafeteria, eat as much as she wanted, and read her books. She was not prepared for visitors today, but they came uninvited anyway, and they came with questions.
“Is your name Clara?” one of the girls asked. She was tall with strawberry blond hair. She looked nice enough.
“Yes,” Clara replied.
The three girls plopped down at Clara’s table and looked at her intently.
“Okay, I’m getting it,” another girl said. She had her dark hair styled in a crazy pixie cut, pieces shooting out in all directions.
Clara remained silent.
The third girl piped up, “Yeah, me too. Look at her hair.”
Clara instinctively touched her hair in an attempt to smooth the waves about her face.
“I’m Jen,” the strawberry blonde said. “And the pixie here is Katy. And that’s Meredith.”
“Hi,” Clara said.
“So we were trying to figure out what in God’s name you’ve done to Evan,” Meredith said. “But now we know. It’s your hair. I think he wants to sleep with it.”
The girls giggled. Clara just stared.
“Clara, stop looking so scared,” Jen snapped. “We’re not here to make fun of you or threaten you or anything.”
Clara relaxed her face and tried for a smile.
“Not all the girls in this school are total bitches,” Katy explained. “Like Brittany,” she added. “No one believes for a second that you’re going around giving guys blow jobs. She’s such a fucking bitch.”