Maybe we would balance each other out …
The wall against my back was doing a good job of keeping me steady. I felt wobbly. Maybe my pen pal and I would balance each other out. Maybe we were perfect for each other. I smiled, read the letter again, then carefully folded it in with his other letters that I kept in my backpack.
My head was in the clouds for all of two seconds until I realized we’d have to meet if anything else was going to happen. Me on paper was not the same as me in real life. I mean, I was exactly the same, but less awkward. My mind went to both the times I’d hung out with David and how horribly awkward I’d been. Whoever my pen pal was, he’d want nothing to do with me once he found out who I was. Or maybe getting to know someone through letters first was a good idea.
This could go well … or horribly.
Okay, calm down, Lily. It’s not like he was asking to meet. He just said it was possible that we could balance each other out. That was just an observation. We’d continue on how we were. It was fine. We were fine. Letters were perfect.
Or … I could suck it up, face my fears, and meet him.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was a text from Isabel.
Where are you? Were we meeting somewhere else today?
On my way, I wrote back.
The halls were empty as I hurried to meet Isabel for lunch. So when I rounded the last corner before the door, I stopped in surprise when I saw one person standing at the end alone. Lucas. He wore dark jeans and a tee today. His headphones were in and he was flipping through a textbook. My heart pummeled my ribs as I forced myself to walk forward. It would be too obvious now if I avoided him.
Maybe I should say something. I’d start with something clever like, You’re listening to music. Cool. I laughed a little at myself. So clever, Lily. No, I could think of something that was actually clever. His T-shirt. It would probably be an awesome band tee, hopefully one I listened to, then I could quote a lyric to him or something.
I reached him and looked at his shirt. Across the front in faded blue was the name Metallica. Not helpful. My eyes went down in disappointment. Then I noticed he was holding a Chemistry textbook. He took Chemistry? But he was a senior.
My brain gave me the warning that I had been standing there silent too long. My eyes shot up to his. He was looking at me now, his earbuds out. When had he done that?
“Hi,” I said.
“Hey.”
“We’re in the hall alone.” What, brain? That’s what you chose to spit out? Thanks for nothing.
But when Lucas gave me his crooked smile, I decided it wasn’t the end of the world.
“We are,” he said. “Cool shoes.”
I lifted up my foot as if he wanted to see my Docs closer. “Thrift store.”
He pulled on his T-shirt. “This too.”
“Nice.”
“You’re in Chemistry,” I said.
“Second time’s a charm.”
“You’re taking Chemistry … ”
My phone buzzed in my pocket again. I was sure it was Isabel. Lucas must’ve heard it as well because his attention was drawn there.
“Isabel is waiting for me.”
He smiled again and nodded as if I was trying to get out of this conversation. That wasn’t my intent. But now I felt like I should follow through with that.
“I’ll—I’ll see you around,” I stammered.
“Sure.” He stuck his earphones back in as I walked away.
My whole body felt like it was soaring. Lucas could really be … no. I wasn’t going to let my brain give me some unrealistic scenario just because I wanted it to be true. But … it could’ve been true. I could now add Lucas to the list of possibilities at least. I flipped to the back of my notebook and added his name, big and bold. As I went over all the clues it made much more sense than anyone who I’d written there before. My heart jumped in my chest. This could work. We could work.
I woke up the next morning smiling and didn’t stop even when I got to school. I was determined to write a letter in Chemistry suggesting that my pen pal and I meet in person. He seemed to be hinting at that and I was ready now, too. It would be perfect. I’d even tell him where we should meet that day after school, by the composition room. It would symbolize what had brought us together in the first place—music.
I let out a happy sigh, imagining Lucas waiting for me by the composition room. Then I went back to sorting mail into the teacher’s boxes in the main office. This was one of my regular duties as office aide fourth period. A pretty mindless duty, lending itself to daydreaming. Although, really, what didn’t lend itself to daydreaming?
Mrs. Clark came in holding a cardboard box. “Lily, I need you to deliver these to Mr. Ortega. They’re his review packets he wanted printed off.”
“Right now?”
She smiled. “No, next period when you’re not here. Of course right now.”
“But Mr. Ortega has class right now. Next period is his free one. Maybe the next office aide should take them.”
Mrs. Clark shook her head. “He needs them right now. He’s using them. Right now.”
“Oh.”
She pushed them into my arms. “Quickly please.”
I stood, the box throwing me off-balance for a moment. I was almost certain that my pen pal was in second-period Chemistry. Still, I felt a surge of nervousness.
I made my way out of the office, through the halls and to the C building. Then I entered the Chemistry room where I now stood at the back, not wanting to take another step forward. I could see Isabel in the front row. The front row was not a very good vantage point for observations. And in the back row, in my seat, was a boy, his head bent low, writing. Maybe just taking notes. He was taking notes.
Mr. Ortega waved me forward and pointed to his desk. I rushed there and set the box down.
“Thanks,” the teacher said, and continued his lecture.
Isabel smiled and waved at me. I tried to return the gesture and began walking toward the door. I could see the front of the boy in the back row now, his hair flopped over his forehead as he furiously wrote on his paper. He was so obvious about it. Why wasn’t Mr. Ortega calling him out? Because he was just taking notes, I told myself. Really intense … apparently funny … Chemistry notes.
I was good at pretending.
I could also pretend it wasn’t Cade Jennings even though that was just as obvious as the fact that he wasn’t taking notes.
All my pretending had to stop when I watched him fold up the paper into fourths and tuck it beneath the desk. I rushed out of the room before he saw me and didn’t look back.
Cade couldn’t be my pen pal.
He couldn’t.
Cade was an insensitive, selfish, arrogant jerk. He was not a funny, thoughtful guy with exceptionally good taste in music. Lucas was supposed to be my pen pal. I had all but convinced myself of that the night before.
Cade was definitely not someone who would balance me out. He made me my most unbalanced self.
Why did I go into that classroom? I asked myself, furious, as I tore down the hall. Why hadn’t I found someone to make the delivery for me? I could never unknow this. I could never go back to getting anonymous, perfect letters again. I wanted to cry. I wanted to scream. I wanted to go back in there and tell Cade that he wasn’t allowed to be two different people.