That was surprising. “Thanks. Maybe.”
He offered me a sheepish smile, and closed the door behind him.
The next Monday, he showed up in Music Appreciation. As casual as anything, like he belonged in there.
Then he settled himself into a spare desk a couple of rows over from me, and, oh crap, he did belong in there. He must have transferred. What in the hell? Since when was he the type of guy to take a music class? My first reaction was to glower. How dare he come in here to ruin my class? If he acted up, I was going to corner him after the lesson and force him to transfer right back out again. This class was important to me. I wasn’t going to let him make it a joke.
I kept trying to catch his eye through the whole class, but he didn’t glance at me once. He kept his attention on the teacher and the textbook. No comments, no laughing, no wry looks around the classroom.
This was exactly the kind of joke the Great, Ethereal Being liked to play on me to keep things interesting. I could picture it up there with dozens of other mystical figures from every religion in existence, watching this on a magical television in the clouds, laughing themselves silly at the bewildered look on my face.
After an eternity the bell rang. I knew Will didn’t want me to speak to him where people could see, but I did not give one crap. I headed straight over to him and put a hand on his desk. “What’s going on?” I asked.
He blinked innocently. “Oh, hey, Ollie. I forgot you took this class.”
“You did not.”
Will grinned at me. Well, glad he found this so amusing. “The career counselor said I needed to ditch peer tutoring for a class with credit. I figured why not this? It’ll make me an all-rounder for college applications.”
I folded my arms, exasperated. “This class isn’t an easy ride, you know. Can you even name one music period?”
He shook his head, sliding his textbook into his bag. “I figured if I got confused, I had a friend who’s pretty good at music who could help.”
“Oh, really? Who is it? I assume it’s someone you can be seen with?” I said coolly.
Will took a second to reply. “That’s right. Speaking of, Darnell wants to sit with you guys in the cafeteria today. He’s totally into Niamh, have you noticed? Are you hanging here to practice, or are you eating?”
“I was gonna eat, today.” Actually, I’d been planning on practicing, but surely that’s what he’d been hoping to hear. And I didn’t want to give him that. I glared at him, silently daring him to ask me to skip lunch so he didn’t have to worry about me addressing him at the table.
“Awesome. Let’s head over together, then.” He stood up, ready to go.
I paused. I understood what he’d said, but I didn’t trust it. A wild, paranoid part of me even wondered if there was a hidden camera somewhere. Before I remembered this was real life. “Um …”
“What?”
What, he asked. Like he hadn’t been so terrified of being seen near me last week he’d shoved me into a mop bucket.
Sure. I’d play along. “Okay. Let’s go,” I said.
The whole time I expected him to make an excuse to leave. Or tell me he was only kidding. Or inexplicably produce a mop bucket from thin air and throw it in front of me to slow me down while he escaped.
But he didn’t. He just walked with me all the way to the cafeteria, talking about his family, and the basketball team, and my friends back home. No one accused us of being in love. No black holes materialized to tear apart the fabric of the universe. We didn’t even trigger a natural disaster.
What the hell had sparked this sudden change?
“Ollie, your phone made a noise,” Crista called out from the living room.
I was in the middle of making three mugs of hot chocolate in the kitchen a few days after Will’s sudden class transfer. More specifically, I was holding Dylan up to the counter so he could stir the powder into the milk. Aunt Linda and Uncle Roy had come home from the hospital earlier than we’d anticipated, right after I’d promised the kids some warm drinks. Uncle Roy offered to take me home, but I wasn’t in any particular rush. I’d gotten my homework done during a rousing Paw Patrol marathon. So he dove straight into the shower. Probably his first in a few days, given how run off their feet he and Aunt Linda were.
“Can I try to read the message to you?” Crista continued when I didn’t respond.
Earlier that evening I’d been messaging Ryan about my new band, so I figured it was a reply from him. “Go ahead,” I called back.
“‘Hey … wanna sit … next … to me … tomorrow in … music? I p-prow … m-eyes’? ‘Prow-mies’? Mama, what does this word say?”
My life flashed before my eyes, and I detached Dylan from the hot chocolates with a jiggle so I could sprint into the living room, still holding him. “D-don’t, don’t read the rest, it’s okay, I’ll read it.”
Crista was already in the process of passing the phone to Aunt Linda, who sat stretched out on her recliner under a bright blue Snuggie. Aunt Linda raised an eyebrow mischievously and held out the phone. “And who’s this from?” she asked.
“No one.” I jostled Dylan onto my hip and reached for my phone.
“Is it a boy?”
“Come on.”
“Please, Ollie, let me be the cool aunt,” Aunt Linda said. “You used to tell me everything. I want to gush.”
“No gushing.”
“I’m going to play the cancer card.”
I snatched the phone back. “Eurgh, no, that’s not fair.”
“Neither is cancer.”
I stared her down, and Dylan struggled to the floor to join Crista on her iPad. I lowered my voice so Crista didn’t overhear. The last thing I wanted was a re-formation of the Will fan club right now. “Fine. It’s Will.”
“Will from the lake?”
“Bingo.”
“Oh my gosh,” Aunt Linda squealed. “You didn’t tell me he lives in Collinswood.”
“He lives in Napier, but he goes to Collinswood High.”
“Is he your boyfriend?”
My grin felt a little pained. Probably not as award winning as my musical debut as a bush, put it that way. “Nah. He’s not out, so we don’t have that much to do with each other.”
“Sounds like he wants to sit next to you in class. That doesn’t sound like nothing.”
Wednesday, 6:47 PM
Hey, wanna sit next to me tomorrow
in music? I promise I won’t distract
you. Finding it hard to keep up! I’m
dumb : (
No wonder he was finding it hard to keep up. He knew nothing about music. It made zero sense for him to have transferred into the class at all.
“Yeah, well, not serious enough for him to risk being seen alone with me,” I said, exiting the message app. “So, whatever.”
Aunt Linda turned the television down with the remote. She meant business. D and M time, so it would seem. “I remember when you were in eighth grade, and you had that crush on the older boy. What was his name again?”
“Ben.”
“Ben. You were crazy about him.”