“Yeah. List of fiction books for me,” he clarified.
“Ohhh,” Clara said. “I do, actually.” She never thought he would ask for it. Not really. But she made the list anyway hoping that he would.
She dug around in her book bag and pulled out a full sheet of paper. She handed it to him.
Evan laughed out loud. “Man, I better get started right away. It’ll take me the rest of my life to read all of these.”
“Too many?”
“No,” he replied. “I just had no idea you read this much.” He scanned the list. “Hmm.”
“What?” Clara asked.
“I just think this says a lot about you,” he replied. He looked up at her. “Thank you for making this list for me.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Should I read them in order?” he asked after a moment.
“It doesn’t matter.”
He looked at the opened book sitting next to her food tray. “What’s that one?”
“Just something different,” she replied, and after a moment added, “How awful do you think your life would be if you had tics? You know, from being OCD?”
“Like checking the lock five times before going to bed?”
“No, more like licking light switches and kissing garden gnomes.”
“What the hell are you reading?” he asked as the first period bell sounded.
***
Evan stayed near Clara all day, or at least as much as he could. He met her in between classes at her locker and walked with her to lunch. He sat across from her as they ate, and talked with her about his interest in science—physics, in particular—and she had no idea what he said throughout most of the conversation. She didn’t care. She thought of the time she spent with him as her secret birthday present, a gift he gave her without even knowing it. Students still stared at them, but she started thinking that it didn’t matter.
“Did you know that warm water actually freezes faster than cold water? It’s called the Mpemba Effect,” Evan said.
“I had no idea,” she responded, and looked down at her tray to hide her grin.
“And did you know that no one understands why?”
Clara giggled.
“This doesn’t interest you in the slightest, does it?” Evan asked.
“I didn’t say that,” Clara replied. “It’s just hard for me to understand. That’s all.”
“Well, like I said, nobody understands,” Evan said. “That’s what makes it interesting.”
“I see why you don’t read fiction,” Clara replied. “It’s the exact opposite of all this science stuff.”
Evan smiled. “Why do you like made-up stories so much, Clara?”
Clara flushed. “I just do.”
“Well, I hope it’s not because you imagine yourself as anyone other than you. That would be a shame,” Evan said.
The flush burned deep in her cheeks, and she bent her head to hide her face from him.
“Do I make you uncomfortable?” he asked. “Do you wish I’d leave you alone?”
Clara’s face shot up. She almost yelled, “No!” but controlled herself.
“No,” she said quietly. “Why would you ask me that?”
“I don’t know,” Evan replied. “I feel like I’m always embarrassing you.”
“Well, you do,” Clara said grinning.
Evan laughed. “Is it terrible of me that I like making you feel uncomfortable sometimes?” He couldn’t believe he said it out loud. What did that say about him, his person, his psyche? More importantly, would it upset her?
Clara thought for a moment. She could say it, and it would make him uncomfortable. Maybe he needed a taste of his own medicine. “You like the power it gives you.”
Evan never averted his eyes. When he looked at Clara, he looked at her. He never looked anywhere else. But in that moment, her words—the flat, bare truth of them—forced him to look away. He was embarrassed.
“I think I’m an asshole,” he said quietly, staring at his food.
Clara felt the transfer of power for the first time. He had it for so many weeks, but now it was hers. She took it from him with those few simple, honest words. She felt heady with a mixture of giddiness and sexual energy. She understood and welcomed the giddiness, but the sexual energy was strange and unnerving.
She tried for a balance. “You shouldn’t feel like that,” she said. “Human relationships are always a power play. It just so happens that right now you’ve forfeited your power.”
Evan looked at her then and grinned. “I want it back,” he said playfully.
Clara shook her head. “I don’t think so. I like the way this feels.”
“And what do you plan on doing with it, Clara?”
She wanted to say that she planned on making him suffer the way he constantly made her suffer, but she didn’t know what that meant. She felt the power slipping as she searched for a clever reply.
“I plan . . .” but her voice trailed off. She realized she couldn’t keep up with him. She couldn’t flirt like he did. She couldn’t find the witty remarks as quickly as he could, and felt herself fading into her old person. Quiet Clara with never the right words.
“I like that you don’t know what to do with it, Clara,” Evan said finally. “If you did, I don’t think I’d like you nearly as much.”
And with that, the power was transferred back to him.
***
Clara reached the front door and saw the note attached:
Over at Ms. Debbie’s. Come as soon as you get home.—Bea
Clara sighed. She really liked Ms. Debbie, but she wasn’t sure she wanted to spend her birthday evening with her. She was prepared to take a simple bath and call it an early night, but she remembered Beatrice telling her she had a surprise. And she couldn’t help but be a little curious about her birthday present, though she was certain she already knew what Beatrice bought for her.
She walked across the street. She could see Beatrice’s face in the living room window before she got to the front door. She knocked softly. Beatrice threw open the door and screamed a loud “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” right in Clara’s face. Clara drew back instinctively and smiled wearily.