The Understorey, Book One of The Leaving Series (12 page)

“Bizarre,” she giggled.

I nodded once and began to lead her toward
the door.

“I blame it on this fickle southern weather,”
I teased over my shoulder.

We walked into Thatcher’s and as I had
previously guessed, a bunch of students were already there. It made
us feel volumes more comfortable in choosing a somewhat private
booth.     

Truthfully, it wasn’t the students we worried
about gossiping. We could handle them. As a matter of fact, it was
the adults but because we were under the protective mask of
pre-game day students we picked the dark unwanted booth way back in
the corner without difficulty. She slid in and I clumsily tumbled
in opposite her. We knew the menu.

Thatcher came up and took our orders. He
acted quite annoyed for it being such a winning sales day. There
was nothing surprising about that, he was such a grumpy old man but
we loved the old crab anyway.

 “What do you want?” he barked.
 “The usual,” we both said in unison, tossing our menus
aside.
He eyed us carefully.
 “Keep your gum out from underneath my table.”
 “Yes sir,” said Jules with a wink and a salute.
Thatcher turned and mumbled something under his breath.
 “We’re not even chewin’ gum,” I said with a shrug.
 “I know. He’s so kooky.”

We laughed but it got uncomfortably quiet and
Jules pretended to stare out the window at a street she could
probably navigate in her sleep. I couldn’t help but stare too, but
at her. She was breathtaking. She fiddled with a long curl,
twisting it in her fingers while her elbow rested on the table. She
sighed and bit her bottom lip crookedly, trying to think of
something else to say. The sun shone through Thatcher’s windows and
it brought bits of gold out in her green eyes. She caught me
glaring and I failed to play it off. I actually think I made her a
little uncomfortable.  

“Jules?” I asked.

She turned her stare from out the window and
her eyes met mine. I felt a tiny jolt to my stomach.

“Yes Elliott?”

I loved the way she said my name. Her mouth
distracted me and for a moment made me forget what I intended to
ask her.

“The lightning bolt,” she guessed.

“Exactly,” was all I could rally up.

“Outside Mrs. Kitt’s class, that first day
and every time after that, when I feel it, the hair stands on the
back of my neck. I can even feel a tingle underneath my
fingernails,” she said.

“Me too,” was all I could reply, swallowing
the thrill her words gave me.

I was too afraid to say anything else.
Frankly, the feeling thrilled me
and
scared me to death. A
wide grin began to spread across her face.

“Hey,” she smirked, trying to lighten the
mood, “Have you ever read Plato’s
Symposium
?”

I chuckled on the inside.

“What are you trying to say?” I asked. “We
were once, together, a hermaphrodite?”

She laughed wildly. I could tell she was
shocked and frightfully pleased that I even got the reference.

“It suddenly doesn’t sound as romantic as I
meant it to sound but it
would
explain the lightning bolt
feeling.”

“You’re ridiculous," I teased.

“I’m only kidding, but still, it can be our
own private joke," she said, beaming.

“Already we’ve got an inside joke? Don’t you
think that’s a big step? Aren’t inside jokes for people with
labels? We’re not even
friends
.”

I had only said that because of what she had
said at lunch.

“We aren’t?” She asked pleadingly.

I didn’t know what I was doing. I had
forgotten how to be a man.

Forget parameters
, I thought to
myself.
Forget lunch. Tell her what you want.

“No Jules. We aren’t friends but that’s going
to change, because we’re going to start dating.”

A little too forceful
.

“If that’s okay with you?” I amended.

She looked pleased, but I couldn’t tell for
sure.

“Elliott Gray. I’ve never met anyone like
you. You’re nothing like I’d thought you’d be. How you appear to
others is not what I see in your heart. You’re well liked at
school, but you don’t seem to care. You’re the starting
quarterback, and from what I’ve heard your phenomenal, but you
don’t seem to be bothered to even talk about it. You’re an
enigma.”

“Oh that,” I said, clearing my throat. “I do
that for my pop. Don’t get me wrong, I like playing. I mean, it’s
fun and all, but he wants me to play college and frankly I haven’t
figured out a way to break it to him that I won’t be doing
that.”

At that moment, Thatcher’s door opened up and
let a tiny gust of wind in. The wind carried itself throughout the
diner, caught Julia’s perfume and sent it through my nostrils. It
assaulted me, and again, I forgot what we had been talking about.
It tasted of honeysuckle and citrus and it was intoxicating. I
almost shot up, snatched her hand, and dragged her from that booth.
I didn’t know what I was going to do then, but I can tell you this,
if the food hadn’t come to free me from the thought I would have
seized her with everything I had in front of Thatcher and the whole
inane town.

Thatcher tossed everything down and slumped
away. It was hot so we let it cool for a moment or maybe we were
just too excited to eat.

“Let me try something,” she said.

She reached out her hand, her palm facing me
and waited for mine. I reached up my own hand and met it with hers.
The voltaic strike punched through us but neither of us pulled
away, darkening the diner around our booth. A hot heat built
between our palms and our breathing got heavier and deeper as the
charge trembled through us. I had to pull my hand away just to keep
my sanity about me.

“That’s an amazing feeling, isn’t it?" She
asked.

“It’s unfathomable,” I said.

    “What is it?” She asked
bluntly.
Asking the very question I had wanted answered since day one.
    “I’m not sure and to be honest with you, I’m
starting to think I don’t care.”
That surprised even me.

“You don’t?”

“Nope,” I realized, “It doesn’t matter to me.
It’s ours and that’s all that concerns me. I don’t want to have to
find an explanation for it. I sort of like that it’s beyond our
comprehension, like it’s not meant to be defined.”

“Curiouser and curiouser,” she teased.

We ate our food and pushed our plates to the
side. We drank about seven Dr. Peppers a piece, just to have an
excuse to talk, until Thatcher’s closed. He had to kick us out. We
hadn’t even noticed that everyone else had left, probably hours
before. I decided to drive Julia to her house down the street
because I didn’t feel right having her drive her own car from the
school at nine o’clock at night by herself. Her dad would have
killed me. Also, I had an ulterior motive, I wanted to be with her
as long as possible the next day and I promised to pick her up for
school the next morning.

“So, you think you’re going to London for
spring break this year? With Mr. Cray’s English class?”

    “I hope so.” She smiled.
“
If
 I can afford to go. I would die to see
Shakespeare’s Globe, or at least the tribute to his Globe.”

    “Me too. Such a pity
Puritan law was.”

    “For apparently hating the
subject so much, you seem to know a lot about its history,” she
accused.

    “Ah, you mistake my
knowledge for interest in the history of
literature
, when in
fact, I am truly only interested in history itself.”

    “Is that so? I think that
you pretend that you are not interested Elliott. I believe you like
the subject and are probably superlative at it, just not as much as
your sciences.”

I pulled up to her house and put the truck in
park.

“What can we do to afford it?” I asked,
assuming it was going to be a joint effort.

“Well, let’s see,” said Jules, “I hear
they’re looking for nude models at the community college in
Charleston. Maybe they’ll throw in a little Fawlty Towers, make a
secret keeper out of you yet. How comfortable would you feel
getting naked in front of a multitude of strangers and posing with
a bowl of fruit?”

“I think I’d do alright actually, but only if
they removed the pears. They make my face appear yellow and that
would just throw off the whole aesthetics.” I threw a devious smile
her direction. “And you miss Jacobs? Would you feel comfortable?
Maybe we can invite Sawyer Tuttle. I’m sure he’d be a very willing
student.”

She couldn’t say anything, desperately bit at
her bottom lip to keep from giving me the smile I was asking for
and shaking her head in mock disapproval.

    “I mean, if you
are
comfortable don’t hesitate to tell me,” I continued. “You know?” I
put my finger to my chin. “Come to think of it, I’ve been meaning
to take up sculpting. I wonder if it’s too late to register.”

“Elliott!” She finally laughed, hitting my
arm, briefly igniting our light. “I would never do anything like
that, ever!”

“It would be for art Jules. It’s different.
But I can see that you’re not that kind of girl,” I teased. “If
you’re not into nude art I’ve got something else for you that you
may go for.” I leaned in really close to her face, “My Uncle Danny
said the county is looking for someone to canvas the major highways
for dead animal carcasses. How does getting in my truck with me and
perusing for smelly deer sound?”

    “That’s disgusting. Is
that a real job?”

    “Of course it is Jules.
What do you think happens to all those animals? We have to prevent
diseases you know. Plus, it’s just
unsightly.”   

We smiled at each other. Then she paused and
looked at me strangely.

“Wow Elliott, I must say, I’m a little
affected by you.”

“To say the very least, Jules.”

When I got home, my mom was livid but my dad
was too interested in what happened at practice that morning to let
my mom rant anymore about the no good I was probably up to. I let
her know I was at Thatcher’s with some kids from school from the
time I had left until just before I got home. I told her she could
check with Thatcher. While my dad asked me about my day, my mom
checked my story and called Thatcher. If that woman was anything,
she was diligent. I tried to keep up with my dad’s questions but
couldn’t help but try to eavesdrop on my mom’s conversation with
Thatcher.

Thatcher was usually pretty good at keeping
the gossip to a minimum. He was a no nonsense kind of guy, but I
could tell from my mom’s facial expression that he was spilling the
beans and I was trying to come up with the answers to the questions
that were about to barrel my way.

My mom finally clicked the phone quietly on
its receiver and stood staring at the wall. My dad realized how
quiet she was, hushed himself and waited for her to turn
around.

“Shelby?” He finally asked.

She turned around and smiled, something I
hadn’t expected.

“Mark, our boy was on a date," she said
folding her arms and leaning against the counter.

He turned to me with the most serious pout on
his face.

“Now. Now, Elliott. Listen to me. You don’t
want to start dating now. The season’s just starting. You need to
keep your grades up son,” he said, his voice teetering on
hysteria.

“Oh, hush Mark. The boy’s never made anything
lower than an A his entire life,” my mom said in my defense, as she
sat down next to me.

“I know Shelby, that’s because we’ve kept
girls out of his life. He needs to focus more than ever right now,”
he said.

The desperation seeped from his pours.

“Oh, so it was you and I who kept girls out
of this
male teenager’s
line of sight? My God Mark! We
should sell our secret. We’d make millions,” she said, all the
while smiling and staring at me.  “If he’s done well in
school, it’s because he’s a natural. He’s a smart kid. Now, calm
down sweetheart,” she winked in his direction, “So, Julia Jacobs
huh? I know her mama is
not
gonna’ like that. Boy, her daddy
won’t either. Mark, you’re going to have to invite the Jacobs to
dinner,” she said over her shoulder. “Julia Jacobs? Strange. Why
her
baby?”

    “Mom, she is not strange.
She’s just different from the girls around here is all. In fact,
she’s extraordinary,” I said surprisingly defensive.

“I’m sorry baby. I didn’t mean it that way.
She
is
lovely. Boy, are you protective of her already!” She
laughed. “I’ve never seen you do more than look at a girl. I only
meant that it was strange to see you take a sudden interest is
all.”

“He’s turning into a man Shelby!” My dad
said, slapping me on the shoulder. “Aren’t ya’ boy?”

He seemed proud. I guess he felt satisfied
that I wouldn’t let my grades slip and mess up my football
career.

“I can’t explain it actually. I never so much
as glanced at Jules before the first day of school, but something
happened. I’m too afraid to even talk about it for fear you’ll
think me insane,” I said.

“I don’t judge. You know that,” said my mom
earnestly.

And she didn’t.

“Well, I was messin’ around before class in
the hall with Jesse Thomas when I saw her floatin’ down the hallway
as if on some sort of revolving belt, like a bad eighties movie. I
didn’t even see her feet move mom. I half expected ‘Dream Weaver’
to belt from the ceiling speakers.”

She laughed.

“But in all seriousness,” I continued, my
eyes reflecting the experience, “Her eyes met mine and it made the
weight of my body feel
burdensome
. She scared me to death
during dinner when she admitted to feeling the same thing. It was
as if she had read my mind. I touched her hand in class and my hand
felt like it was on fire.” I left out the fireworks and the ESP. My
mom didn’t judge but she wouldn’t be above committing me. “I swear
I’ve never
felt, seen, heard
, or even
read
of
anything like that before. I couldn’t explain it to you fully. Not
even if I tried,” I paused apprehensively, “Mom? Do you? I mean,
have
you
ever felt anything like that before? Is it
normal?”