Chapter Three
686 Words
Eying all the shiny black town cars and limos in the carpool lane, I wonder if Mama would be pulling up with a honk and trying to wave through the passenger window or if a car would come to a slow stop and only when Sanders comes around the front to open the back door would I know it’s my ride. Twisting my phone in my hand, sliding it forward under my thumb with a flick of my wrist, I think how counter-productive it is that we all have black cars waiting for us. Only a few dozen of kids have their own cars, even less walk home, and there’s maybe three fancy vans in the place of normal school’s busses.
Blobs of uniforms pass me, my eyes becoming more and more unfocused with every turn of my phone. Even though Macen lives two blocks away in one direction and Sophia three blocks away in the other, we never seem to manage having rides home together. Macen with Thespian Club, Sophia with cheerleading practice… they tried to talk me into both activities – or any activity – but why in the world would I stay at school longer than I have to?
A blur of a tall uniform comes next to me; the boy’s rolled up white sleeves brushing my arm as he folds the school jacket over his messenger bag. I don’t have to flick my eyes to far his direction to know it’s Christopher O’Crosphen. Maybe cheerleading wouldn’t be so bad? Thespian Club would probably help me with Drama?
“’Ello.”
“Yeah?”
“How’s Drama? Have rehearsals started for the Autumn play?”
Too tired to put up a fight, too tired to unsheathe my usual snark, Sophia’s and Macen’s comments buzzing in my brain, I glance over at him. His usually perfect tie is loosened, the unbuttoning process started, his thumb and index adjust his thick black rectangle frames. I exhale softly, “It’s going great actually. I offered to help with costuming, sewing my own…. The sets are being finished by Thespian Club tonight, I think. A couple of evenings next week we’ll go through it with all we’ve been practicing, then we’re into dress rehearsal. With it being such a well-known play there hasn’t been much for us to worry about.”
Nodding slowly there’s a faint smile. “I can imagine.” Bobbing my head a little, I glance back at the carpool. Christopher doesn’t take the hint and continues to say “Do you think you’ll be auditioning for the Spring musical? I think it’s been announced to be Grease next year.”
I burst with laughter and shake my head quickly. “Oh man, can you imagine? Me as Sandra D? I know Papa says I have an ear for language and all that but singing… that’s quite different, isn’t it? I don’t know that I can sing in American.”
Christopher smiles and shifts his hips to face me better. “Hmm… maybe you’ve got a point. I’ve noticed when you get passionate about things, especially when you get angry about things, that Benovia accent comes out full force.”
I smirk. “You would know since you’re the one who gets that side of me the most.”
“Which would bring us back full circle…. I am aware it’s a bit of an extreme, but I think a date would be a productive way to bury the hatchet.”
Hand to my face, middle finger pad getting non-existence gunk out of my eye, I can feel the ball of lead drop in my stomach. Granted, a much smaller ball than usually – maybe a golf ball instead of a tennis ball – but still… heavy, hot, and making me nauseous. “Dinner, right?”
“Or a movie… or both, tomorrow night?”
Sanders calls my name, and I don’t even look back to Christopher. “All right.”
“‘All right’? As in ‘yes’?” he calls after me.
Phone in hand, I shake it. “Bye O’Crosphen.”
- Writer
