“Okay Mills,” Justin says. “Point taken. But tell Phil I’ll text him later for the deets.” He leans back into his seat.
Sean flashes me a smile and looks like he’s about to say something but Mr. Norderick taps his marker on the board. He assigns us sections to read aloud from Ginsberg’s Howl. I’ve never read it before and it’s pretty intense. Kallie throws me a scowl before reading with aggressive and hard-hitting inflections.
When Mr. N. looks to Maisey to read next, he walks over and taps on her desk with his highlighter.
Her head, resting on her hand and elbow, jerks up. “Don’t!” She does a startled half jump out of her seat then sits back down. Her cheeks flush crimson and she mumbles, “Sorry, I fell asleep.”
A hushed laughter waves through the room and someone squeaks from the back corner. Nord looks up with a quick glare then nods at Maisey. “No problem. I don’t mind sleeping in my class but I can’t imagine these desks are very comfortable. If you can please read your section Miss Morgan.”
Maisey grabs her book and the bag at her feet. “Sorry, I gotta go. I’m not feeling good.” She strides out of class head down, army green cargo pants frayed and skimming the floor as another squeak and a few laughs ring out from the class. The door slams behind her as Mr. N. crosses his arms and shakes his head. “I’m not sure what’s going on here, but I’m assuming most of you are older than eight years old, so let’s start acting like it.”
Shandy Silvers finds a way to cut the tension by offering to read Maisey’s section with a whiney baby voice that somehow sounds like she’s reading a book about glittery ponies.
I look down to a folded piece of notebook paper on my desk. Kallie’s two rows away and staring out the window so I turn to Justin who shoots me a blank stare from a doodle of an alien eating a sandwich. Biting my cheek, I unfold the paper. My eyes skim to the bottom. Sean. My heart does a quick hop and picks up speed.
Bree HUGHES—
Can I get a ride home
after school today?
Yes No Maybe
Circle one
PS—Yes = U will get the prize I owe U.
PS2—We still doing something tonight?
—Me (Sean Mills)
My face is a beet and even though his note is so seventh grade, it’s also the cutest thing ever. I grab my pen and circle Yes, and then write, “Hope it’s not coffee!!” I add a smiley face, and with confidence, I write Yes after his question about doing something tonight. I slide the note onto Sean’s desk, brushing my wrist against his arm in the process. Mr. N. turns his back to write a couple notes on the whiteboard. He asks us to write down a few guidelines for a new assignment to free-write our own version of Howl.
When the bell rings, Sean and I walk the hallway together, which feels amazing except for the part about me wishing Kallie was excited for me too.
I get home after dropping Sean off and twist the rubber band around my wrist. He gave it to me on the car ride to his house saying it looks like a dumb prize but it’s not and he’d tell me about it later. I slide the band between my thumb and forefinger and smile. I’m so into him that I’m kind of just content to just have a rubber band as a bracelet. Only Kallie would understand this so I lift my phone to call. I push a long exhale through my lips. My heart ticks faster and my nerves are harder to fight than the urge to call. Maybe tomorrow.
****
Sean holds the door open, and I duck into his maroon two-door Honda, trying to make sense of the whole friend zone vibe we’ve got going on tonight. It’s kinda screwing with me.
Most guys I’ve hung out with never want to talk, or only talk about themselves or are just trying to figure out a way to give me a back massage at the end of the night that’ll lead to other stuff. Apparently I’ve been hanging out with the wrong guys. Sean was actually looking at me when I talked, wasn’t checking his phone every five minutes, and asked a lot of questions. Stuff about my summer job, my parents, and even about me and Kallie’s fight.
“Thanks again for dinner,” I say.
“You’re welcome, again. I mean De nada. It’s the first time I’ve ever been to Muy Mexicano. Maybe the last. Those Spanish guys with the sombreros and guitars really showed me up.”
“I think they were Mexican though, not Spanish.”
“Okay, got it.” Sean nods but I can tell he has no idea what I’m talking about so I let him know that my dad’s family is Mexican too, which means they’re from Mexico, not Spain.
“Sorry, Dutch and Norwegian guy learning curve over here. But yeah, I speak English but I’m not from England. Makes sense.”
Sean asks if I speak Spanish and then I give the whole spiel I always give after I tell people I’m Mexican. The whole thing where I’m all, “No, I don’t speak Spanish, but it’s not my fault! My dad almost always speaks English unless he’s with my grandparents.”