Authors: Heather Terrell
On Monday, I expected to pass Michael in the hallways and get the cold shoulder, at best. In fact, I wouldn’t have been surprised if he told me off for my rudeness; he would’ve been justified. I certainly didn’t anticipate—or deserve—seeing Michael waiting for me with a friendly smile on his face. But there he was.
Michael stood against the wall near my locker so casually that, once again, I thought maybe he wasn’t waiting there for me. After all, he could have any number of reasons for being there. But then he waved and smiled at me. A fierce blush spread across my pale cheeks when I realized he was waiting for me. How did he know where my locker was?
Although I shyly returned his smile and wave, I got more anxious as I walked toward him. Michael wore average-looking jeans and a black T-shirt, but he looked different—more mature, maybe—than the average Tilling-hast guy. Plus, I had this business of apologizing to address.
Michael’s warm smile made the apology a lot easier. I bit the bullet and said, “Hey, I feel really bad about not recognizing you at first on Friday—”
He interrupted me. “Don’t mention it. It’s been three years, and we both look different. You especially,” he said with an appreciative glance that made me blush. I hated to blush. He seemed to notice my discomfort, and rushed to lighten the mood by teasing me. “I hope I look different than I did three years ago, too. Maybe better?”
I laughed a little, but didn’t know what to say next. I never knew what to say to guys, unless it was about class work or organic farming. Obviously neither topic lent itself to casual banter, although normally I didn’t mind. And anyway, I still had this weird amnesia when it came to Michael and Guatemala, and I didn’t know how to avoid that topic in a conversation since it was our main common ground.
We stood in what seemed, to me, like an eternal awkward silence. To fill the void, I started walking down the hall, and he quickly followed. But the quiet finally got to me, and I blurted out, “So, your parents want to save the world, too?” I figured that he could relate if his parents dragged him on far-flung missions to Guatemala, like mine did.
“Something like that,” he said pleasantly enough. Maybe I had passed the first conversational hurdle. “We’ve traveled all over for their work, that’s for sure.”
“Did your family move here so your parents could teach at the university, M—?” I almost said his name, and then I stopped myself. Technically, we hadn’t introduced ourselves, and I definitely didn’t want to admit that I’d discussed him with my parents, and got his name that way.
“We moved to Tillinghast over the summer so my parents could work on a special project.”
“So it’s just a temporary move?” Even though I barely knew this guy, I felt disappointed that he might not be in town for long.
“We’re here until the project meets its goal, I guess.”
Before I could ask any other number of polite, conversational questions, he turned to me with a broad smile and asked, “So where are we headed?”
“English.”
“What are you reading?”
“
Pride and Prejudice
.”
“I had to read that for English last year. I thought my teacher would never stop talking about it. I think she’s still looking for her Mr. Darcy.”
I had to laugh. I had heard the same thing about my English teacher, Miss Taunton.
We started talking about
Pride and Prejudice
, which I’d read on the long, hot Kenyan nights when there wasn’t much else to do. In fact, I had finished the assigned
Pride and Prejudice
and worked my way through all of Jane Austen over the summer. He asked me what I’d thought of the novel. I loved it, and he admitted that he’d found it slower than molasses and about as interesting. But he said it with the kind of smile that made me forgive him for having such a negative view on a book that I loved. I’d never had this kind of conversation with any other guy before. With anyone other than Ruth, actually. My parents and their colleagues stuck to practical scientific texts and world issues, and my other friendships were of the superficial variety. And even though we didn’t agree, it was such a rush to find a guy that I could talk to—after so long pretending to myself and everyone else that I didn’t much care that I couldn’t speak the language of guys my own age.
Too soon, we stood near the entrance to my English class. I paused near the door. I felt awkward about how to break off. Would it be really 1950s of me to thank him for walking me to class?
“Well, it was really nice seeing you again. . . .” I let the sentence drift off as I faced the uncertain business of whether I should say his name or not. I hoped he didn’t notice.
He did, of course.
“Michael. Michael Chase,” he interjected and then smiled that disarming smile again. “In case you forgot.”
“Right, right. Thanks, Michael. And I’m—”
“I know who you are. You’re Ellie Faneuil.”
He started down the hallway toward his own class, but then turned back suddenly with a devilish grin. “Actu-ally, you’re
Ellspeth
Faneuil, aren’t you?” With a wave, he walked away.
To my surprise, Michael sought me out each day that week. I’d step out of class, and he’d be waiting nearby. I’d pop out of lunch and head to my locker, and he’d be strolling alongside me down the hallway. His constant attendance never seemed weird. In fact, his easy manner and our effortless conversations—mostly about classes—made it feel really natural. By Friday afternoon, my reserve about him had chipped away.
Just before two o’clock, I stood in the back of gym, waiting for Ruth to join me before I sat down for the principal’s first assembly of the school year. The space was crowded with bleachers and chairs, instead of the usual sports equipment. Students were beginning to pour in.
I spied Missy and her usual entourage approaching my spot, and I just didn’t want to interact with them. So I slid away into a darkened corner next to the bleachers. From there, I could still see the doors to the gym and catch Ruth’s attention when she arrived, but didn’t have to deal with any of Missy’s annoying, ongoing efforts at friendship.
As I watched the clock tick closer to two and the seats fill, I wondered where Ruth was. Ever punctual and organized, it wasn’t like her to be late. Not to something like this. I didn’t dare take one of the few remaining chairs without her; she’d be furious at having to sit alone.
Ruth. Just thinking about her reminded me that I hadn’t mentioned Michael. Our somewhat conflicting schedules meant that she hadn’t seen me with him. And I hadn’t felt like telling her about our conversations yet. I just didn’t want to bump up against that overprotectiveness of hers when I wasn’t even sure that there was anything between Michael and me for Ruth to protect.
The clock hit two, and the principal strode across the stage. Craning my neck, I scanned the room to be certain that I hadn’t missed Ruth. The gym was packed with students, but no Ruth. I settled back into my little nook and waited. I would give her one more minute before I snagged one of the few open seats nearby. At this point, she’d have to understand.
Without warning, I felt a presence in my dark alcove. I hadn’t seen anyone approach my little corner, so I was confused by the sensation. I looked around. But there was no one standing to my left or right.
Then I felt a hand on the small of my back. The light pressure sent chills up my spine, and my heart started racing. I did not need to turn around to see who it was. Somehow I knew it was Michael behind me.
Removing his hand away from my back, he inched closer. “Is this spot taken?” he whispered, as he sidled up next to me.
We’d never been so close to each other. I felt like I could hardly breathe, let alone answer. Where had this strong, physical attraction to him come from? Over the past few days, I’d grown to really like him, but I hadn’t experienced anything like this with him. Or anyone else, for that matter.
“No,” I finally managed, with a gulp.
“Good. Maybe I’ll just stay here with you instead of sitting down, if that’s okay. That way, we can scoot out early.”
“Sure,” I answered with what I prayed was a calm voice. Even though I felt anything but calm.
The lights dimmed, making our dark alcove even darker. The principal began to rustle some papers on the podium. He tapped the microphone, which let out an ear-piercing shriek. Michael and I turned to each other, covered our ears, and laughed. Then we stood next to each other in companionable silence while the principal started his speech.
I heard Principal Robbins greet the incoming class of juniors and welcome back the seniors, but I wasn’t really listening. I heard the crowd laugh politely at some lame joke the principal told, and I smiled along with them as if I were paying attention. But all I could hear and see and feel was Michael.
Principal Robbins introduced the vice principal, and quiet fell over the crowd while he walked across the stage to the podium. In that brief silence, Michael leaned toward me. I could feel his warm breath on my cheek, and I wondered what he was going to do or say.
He nudged me in the direction of the gym doors and said, “I think someone’s looking for you.”
I looked over. In the darkness of the gym, a person stood silhouetted against the bright light streaming in from the opened doors. It was Ruth.
More than anything in the world, I wanted to stay alone in that alcove with Michael. But I knew I couldn’t. I had to signal to my friend.
Before I motioned for Ruth’s attention, I turned back to thank Michael for pointing her out. But he was already leaving.
As he walked away, I thought I heard him say, “Maybe I’ll see you this weekend.”
The weekend that followed was long and filled with misgivings. Michael never reached out to “see me” like I thought he had said. So I had way too much time on my hands to stare at my neglected cell phone and think about him.
I couldn’t help but wonder why Michael had been so persistent in seeking me out over the preceding week. Not that he’d declared a specific interest or anything, but he clearly went out of his way to see me during the school days—for friendship or more I couldn’t quite tell. Could it really be that we had connected on that Guatemala trip? And why me? He seemed to have made other friends in the short time he’d been in Tillinghast, the sort of guys who hung out with the most popular girls and ignored the rest of us. I couldn’t help but feel like Michael would start ignoring me, too, one day.
By Monday morning, I had my guard back up. So when I stepped out of English and spotted him talking to a group of jocks instead of waiting alone for me, it seemed that my fears were confirmed. Fears that he’d given up on our tenuous relationship, fears that he hadn’t been genuinely interested from the start. I let my hair hang in front of my face, and walked in the opposite direction to avoid passing him. Even though it was the wrong way to my next class.
Darting down the hallway as quickly as I dared, I heard my name being called out.
“Ellie.”
I knew it was Michael’s voice, but I was so embarrassed that he might have caught my glance and my hasty exit that I kept moving.
“Ellie.” His voice was getting louder, and I could hear his footsteps approach. But I kept pretending I couldn’t hear him.
Michael reached my side, and reached out for my arm. It tingled where he touched it. “Ellspeth,” he whispered, and his breath sent shivers up my spine. The long, disappointing weekend had done nothing to change his physical effect on me.
I stopped walking and turned to look at him. He seemed upset.
“I know you saw me. Why did you walk away?”
“You seemed”—I reached for an explanation—“busy. I didn’t want to interrupt.”
“You should know that I’m not interested in them. I’m interested in you.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
Our eyes locked for a brief second, when I realized that Piper and Missy were walking nearby. And watching our every move.
Michael must have realized it too, because he broke my gaze and changed the subject.
“Sorry I didn’t get a chance to call you this weekend. Did you have a good one?” he asked as we started walking down the hall again.
“Yeah, I guess so.” I desperately wanted to ask what kept him from calling, but I didn’t want him to think I’d fixated on his parting words from Friday.
“How’d you like the movie on Saturday?”
“You were at the Odeon?” I was shocked. No self-respecting Tillinghast upper-class guy would be caught dead at the Odeon, which only showed foreign movies and independent films. From what I remember, the theater was almost empty.
At the mere mention of the Odeon, Piper and Missy giggled and walked away. In that split second, they clearly decided that Michael—no matter how cute and how senior—wasn’t worth their attention. He had revealed himself as an indie-movie-watching geek. I was relieved.
Michael answered as if totally unaware of, or even better, uninterested in, the judgment just passed by Missy and crew. “I came in late by myself. You and your friend looked like you were having so much fun that I didn’t want to interrupt you guys.”
“You were there by yourself?” I blurted out and then my cheeks flushed. Of course I wanted to know if he’d brought a date, but why did I have to be so obvious?
He smiled. “Yeah, I was. That’s probably not very cool, is it? To go to the movies on a Saturday night without any friends?” But he didn’t seem the least embarrassed. In fact, his ability to do whatever he wanted without worrying about the social consequences was one of the things I liked most about him.
If possible, I got even redder. I hadn’t meant to insult him, but at least he didn’t grasp the real reason I’d asked the question. Or at least he had the decency to pretend that he didn’t.
Michael continued, “I’ve lived in enough places that I’ve learned not to care what is cool. I’ve learned to suit myself. And anyway, Tillinghast is a small place. It helps to get out of it for a while, even if it’s just at the movies. If that makes any sense at all.”
“It does.” He made it sound acceptable, rather than strange, to spend a Saturday night at the Odeon. And I really did get what he said. Having spent so much time in other cultures, I shared his compulsion to escape from the confines of Tillinghast into other worlds.
He changed the subject back to the movie, a French film. Before long, we were back on track and engrossed in a discussion over the best French movies. I favored the Three Colors Trilogy, while he advocated for
La Femme Nikita
with its stylized action scenes.
We arrived at my calculus class door too quickly. For me, anyway. The embarrassing moment of departure arrived once again. But before I could say anything silly, Michael said, “I wanted to ask you—”
“Ellie, there you are!” Ruth bounded over and landed directly between us. “You almost forgot this in my car this morning, and you ran out of English before I could hand this to you.” She stuck out a folder and handed it to me. I took the folder from her, careful not to touch her directly. Since the flashes started, I always took extra care to make sure I didn’t get any from Ruth. Late last school year, I accidentally brushed up against her arm as she was looking at Jamie, a junior guy she often described as “thick,” and I saw that she actually had some pretty intense feelings for him. I didn’t want any more flashes from Ruth. It would make our friendship really weird.
I stared down at the folder Ruth had jammed into my hand and realized that it contained my calculus homework. “Oh, wow, thanks, Ruth. I can’t believe I almost left it behind.”
Looking up, I saw that Ruth was gaping at Michael—and speechless. I realized that Ruth had leaped between Michael and me without realizing that we were talking. Why would she think that I’d be talking to him? After all, I’d made a conscious decision not to mention him to her. But based on her reaction, it was clearly a very bad decision. I definitely wished that I had brought up Michael already.
What else could I do at that moment but introduce them and try to act normally? “I don’t think you two have met. Ruth Hall, this is Michael Chase. Michael, this is Ruth.”
“Nice to meet you, Ruth,” Michael said.
Still Ruth said nothing, just kept staring. You’d think she’d never seen a guy speak to her best friend before.
Since he was getting no response from Ruth, Michael turned back to me and continued where he left off. “Anyway, Ellie, I know it’s early in the week, but I wanted to ask if you were free this Saturday night. Maybe we could go to the Odeon together?”
I shot a glance at Ruth, whose mouth had literally dropped open. We had talked about going to see the new Odeon release ourselves, this upcoming Saturday night. “Actually, Ruth and I had plans—”
With a start, Ruth came out of her spell. “Ellie, I forgot to tell you that I have a family party to go to on Saturday night. So you’re free, you’re totally free.”
Family party? Ruth didn’t have any family besides her dad. That was one reason she’d gotten so close to me and my parents, and her dad had gotten so tight with my mom and dad. That, and the fact that her dad and my parents shared a near-obsession with the environment. Ruth was really looking out for me, despite the shock at seeing me talk to Michael.
“Great,” Michael said with a smile at Ruth. He looked at me again. “Should we meet there at six thirty?”
I was a little surprised that he didn’t offer to pick me up, but then what did I know about going on a date? This would be my first. “Sure. I’ll see you there.”
He laughed. “Okay, but it’s only Monday. I think I’ll run into you before then.”
I blushed yet again. “Right, right.”
Just then the bell rang. We all said a hasty farewell, and went our separate ways to class.