“Eighteen, and evidently not as smart as you,” Evan replied.
“Well, we can compare notes as we get to know each other.” Beatrice looked over at the stage and saw someone walking to the podium. “I think we need to find some seats now,” she suggested, and started walking down the center aisle.
“Your sister is a handful,” Evan said turning to Clara.
“You’ve no idea,” Clara responded following Beatrice down the aisle.
They settled themselves in two seats randomly left open in the middle of a center row, and Clara watched as Evan made his way over to his family. There were four of them: a father, a mother, a younger brother, and him. Picture perfect, Clara thought, and her heart bled the tiniest bit of jealousy, trickling down into her stomach and making it sour.
She turned her focus to the podium but not before she saw Evan turn around and look at her. She caught his eye; she had to acknowledge him. She smiled and he smiled back. She wanted to keep looking at him, but she was afraid he’d make her do something foolish. She turned to the podium certain that he was still gazing at her. She wondered if she should flip her hair over her shoulder like Beatrice does. She wasn’t good with those things like Beatrice probably because Beatrice did them automatically without knowing how cute she was when she did them. They came naturally to her. But not Clara. She did few things in her life automatically. Every decision was deliberate and controlled. She knew if she flipped her hair it would look awkward like she had thought too long and hard about it resulting in something mechanical and wrong.
She kept her hands folded in her lap. She fought the urge to look Evan’s way. It was impossible and unfair to sit there knowing he sat a few rows in front of her probably still looking at her. It wasn’t until the principal excused everyone to the teachers’ classrooms that she looked over. He was gone, and her heart sagged in her chest.
Beatrice pulled her sister along to Mr. Brenson’s room. They rounded a corner, and Clara bumped into Evan.
“I’m sorry!” Clara said.
“No worries,” Evan replied. “Glad to see you again.” He smiled at Clara’s sister. “Beatrice,” he said inclining his head.
“Evan,” Beatrice replied civilly, inclining her own head.
“Hey, I didn’t see your parents in there,” Evan said. “Where are they?”
Clara was bad at making up lies on the spot. She thought she should find that a virtuous trait, but it mostly made her angry. Especially in situations like the present one. Thankfully Beatrice was full of deception, and she was a quick thinker, too.
“Well, our mother is in the bathroom and our father isn’t here,” Beatrice replied. “Now if you will excuse us, we need to go see my teacher.” She didn’t wait for Evan to reply but grabbed Clara’s hand, pushed past Evan, and started down the hallway towards a classroom at the far end. Evan followed forgetting that he was headed for the water fountain.
He watched the girls enter the room and hung around outside of the opposite classroom. His parents and brother were in there, but he preferred to watch Clara instead of meeting his younger brother’s teacher despite the fact that she was young and attractive.
He watched Clara introduce herself to Beatrice’s teacher, shake his hand and ask him a few questions. The teacher gave her a stack of papers, pointed to some important information, and then turned his attention to Beatrice. He high-fived her, and the girls walked to the back of the classroom out of Evan’s eyesight. He wanted to wait for them. It was an odd desire; he didn’t know them, but he was reluctant to leave without saying goodbye.
He knew he liked Clara. He noticed her at the end of last year. There was something strange and interesting about her, and he wanted to meet her. But he was still dating Amy—a relationship that had run its course and was all but over. Still, they were technically together and he wouldn’t be that guy. He waited for everything to crumble, for her to say she hated him and never wanted to see him again before making his move. But by then it was halfway into the summer. He’d have to wait to see Clara the following school year. He resolved to waste no time and made it a point to say hello to her on the first day. She was clearly confused, and he took it as a good sign. If she acted indifferent, he knew he’d have no chance.
Clara. What was it about that girl? She was beautiful and didn’t know it. Actually, she was strikingly beautiful, but she hid it underneath dowdy clothes. He thought he should feel shallow for being so sexually drawn to her. He couldn’t help it. He had nothing else to go on. He didn’t know anything about her personality. Not yet. He just knew the way her plump lips moved as she silently read to herself in class. The way her hazel eyes held secrets he wanted to know. The way her long, thick eyelashes obscured her eyes when she looked down at her notebook on her desk. The way she bent her head and let her hair fall to shield her face.
God, her hair. He thought he’d make an ass of himself one day, walk up to her and run his fingers through it. It had magnetic powers, he was sure. Her hair the positive and his fingertips the negative. He sat in class, his fingers aching with the need to go to her and touch her, touch her hair. It was long, brown and wavy. It reached her shoulder blades. It looked like the kind of hair that other girls would envy, the hair that requires no effort to look perfect. He imagined Clara let it air dry to those soft, silky waves that framed her face, cascading down her back like a horse’s mane. He resolved to put his hands in her hair. One day when she gave him permission.
“Are you stalking us?” he heard Beatrice ask.
“Bea,” Clara said. She looked nervous.
“Am I stalking you?” Evan asked. He smiled and shook his head. He jabbed a thumb behind him. “See that classroom? That’s my little brother’s classroom. I’m just out here waiting for him.”