Dwayne Hoover pulled into the student parking lot of Valley High School with an embarrassing clatter. He had inherited the atrocious yellow van on his sixteenth birthday, its paint all peeling with years of memory. He remembered his mother handing him the keys proudly and Richard, his step dad, lecturing him about responsibility and insurance. They had recently invested in several repairs for the broken down piece of junk. Dwayne was thankful for the freedom of having his own transportation, but when a group of seniors paused in front of him and stared with amusement as the vehicle rattled to a stop, he winced. It wasn't as if he cared what they thought of him or his van, but Dwayne preferred to pass unnoticed, especially in or around the incarcerating institution of learning that he was forced to attend.
Dwayne passed through the day much like every other day, with the warm, New Mexico air lulling him into a contemplative stupor. He went through English and History with his copy of Thus Spoke Zarathustra hidden under his desk. The copy was worn and yellow with a malleable spine and white lines cracking the cover. The bright blue sky outside his window beckoned him to greater horizons, and he mourned the time being wasted with each passing second spent on the pointless history lessons he'd been learning every year since elementary school.
Classes passed by in a blur. He daydreamed about the upcoming summer that he planned to spend in Florida with his father. All he needed was his notebook and pen, and the hours flew by in worlds far away from the people he detested. He tried, at the very least, to focus in math, but with the perfect weather always just out of reach, it was a difficult task to accomplish.
Lunch passed too quickly. He spent it sitting outside leaning against a tree and watching the world pass by. Thoughts drifted like background music through his mind. He sighed heavily; trying to ignore the turmoil of his thoughts long enough to enjoy the sun that beat down on him like an urgent message of hope. Dwayne was sick of high school, sick of the girly, blonde-haired clones and the brutish jocks who roamed the halls. He was quite sure that the world would never survive through his generation. His uncle was right when he had told Dwayne that high school would bring him some of the worst suffering of his life. Dwayne respected his uncle Frank. In fact, Frank was the only family member that Dwayne could stand to listen to. Frank had told him that suffering was what made people who they were, but Dwayne was so weary of the trap he found himself in. There was always a new trap waiting for him at the end of the last.
Dwayne leaned his head towards the sky, the tree behind him offering a comforting stability that was a rare find in humans. He wanted to fly. As he got older, Dwayne was discovering that this dream would be more difficult to achieve than he thought.
"If I want to fly, I'll find a way to fly!" His own words echoed in his mind, but as the high school days went by, his confidence began to falter. Sometimes he wished that his vow of silence hadn't fallen through. He missed the solitude that came with not speaking.
Dwayne spent the rest of his lunch period eating the dry cereal he had packed for lunch in his haste to leave the house that morning. It was the sugary kind that he wasn't particularly fond of, but it was Olive's favorite, so he ate it anyway.
Dwayne exited his final class of the day (weight training) with a sigh of relief. The teacher had let them out a few minutes early, and the exercise had left him feeling alive and confident. Dwayne had rushed to change out of his gym clothes and was now standing impatiently in the hallway for the only thing that made coming to school worthwhile.
Alright, today is the day, Dwayne thought. He pulled his book out of his backpack and opened it to a random page, trying unsuccessfully to look preoccupied. Across the hall from his weight training class was the entrance to the art room. He could smell the paint and hear the radio playing softly within. It was all he could do to keep himself from pacing. He leaned against the wall and tried to focus on the words in front of him. Thankfully, his fruitless efforts were interrupted by the sound of the bell ringing, a wonderful sound that marked the end of class and the end of another long school day. Dwayne watched as the art students filed out of the classroom one by one. He adjusted the strap on his backpack and cleared his throat. Almost a minute passed, and finally she appeared.
All thought left Dwayne's mind as a calm smile spread over his face. Penelope was her name. He only caught a glimpse of her before she turned to walk down the hallway. She wore paint-splattered jeans and a white cotton shirt that hung loosely off one shoulder and flowed down past her hips. The one feature that Dwayne loved most about Penelope was her hair. It was the most beautiful shade of light, chestnut brown that caught glints of gold in the sunlight. Most of the time she had it tied up, paintbrushes and pencils shoved into it for safe keeping, but today she wore it down. It was a perfect curtain of waves hanging down her back, a flower tucked sweetly behind her left ear. Dwayne watched her walk. She had a small frame that made her seem meek, but Dwayne knew better. It wasn't until she was out of sight that Dwayne realized he had, once again, let her walk past without saying a word. He had talked to her before, but not enough times for her to consider him a friend.
Dammit! he thought and looked down at his feet. He put his book back into his bag and walked in the direction that Penelope went, not really expecting to see her again. He was just thinking of all the homework he was going to have to do that night when an unexpected presence interrupted his thought process.
"Are you ever going to talk to me?" Penelope asked with a teasing smile. Dwayne felt electricity rush through his body. He opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again.
"Where did you—?" he started.
"I waited for you," Penelope said easily. She blushed, but regained her composure and fell in step with Dwayne.
"I just—I haven't talked to you in a while," Dwayne said lamely. Penelope nodded shyly, encouraging him to go on. "Um…what's that you're holding?" Dwayne wasn't used to small talk. He didn't have many friends, and when he was around people he was almost always quiet.
"Oh, it's one of my projects from art. I thought I'd hang it in my room." Penelope held up the oversized sheet of paper. Dwayne saw an interesting array of yellow and blue paint spread thick and with passionate strokes across the paper to make a sky with a burning sun hanging fixed within it.
"It's beautiful," Dwayne said honestly. Penelope hid it from view again, pointing the back of the paper away from her. Dwayne smiled and felt a burning admiration fill him. Could it be that she actually wanted to talk to him?
"Thank you," Penelope responded and returned his smile. He practically melted where he stood at the sight of her lips curving up. She had a small birth mark just to the right of her mouth that made her all the more beautiful. Penelope didn't wear much makeup, if any. Dwayne couldn't really tell, and he liked that about her. This girl was real. There was an incredible shortage of "real" people at their school.
"So, is that what you're going to do after college; art?" Dwayne asked. Penelope cocked her head to one side and wrinkled her nose.
"I wish," she answered. "I'm not nearly good enough. Not to mention becoming successful in art is…hard, to say the least."
"No way," Dwayne encouraged. "You've got the talent! It's what you love to do isn't it?"
"Well, yeah," she admitted. "It's my favorite thing in the world, but—"
"Then you should do it. Would you rather do something you hate for the rest of your life?"
"I don't know," Penelope said. "I guess I'll always have art…on the side."
Dwayne smiled and shook his head. He felt light-headed and elated, but saw the door that led to the student parking lot approaching. A moment of silence passed between them. Dwayne paused just before the door and looked at her. She looked at him briefly but lowered her eyes. Dwayne scratched his head and flattened his hair.
"So Penelope, I was wondering…would you…want to hang out with me sometime…I mean, if you—"
"Yes," Penelope said, ending Dwayne's agonizing awkwardness. "I'd love to hang out with you." Dwayne beamed and shuffled his feet.
"Uh…when are you free?" Dwayne asked.
"I'm free almost all the time outside of school since I quit the yearbook committee. When are you free?" Dwayne went through his schedule in his head and smiled.
"I'm always free too," he said with a chuckle. "Nothing interesting ever happens here! We could even…hang out this afternoon if you wanted to…"
"Actually," Penelope said after a pause. "That sounds really nice. I was just planning on walking home and doing homework, but I'd much rather hang out with you." Penelope grabbed at the ends of her long hair nervously and smiled.
Dwayne held the door open for Penelope and followed her out to the student parking lot. He led her nervously to the huge, yellow bus and shrugged apologetically for its lack of grace.
"Cool," she said simply and climbed into the passenger seat.
"Is it alright if we drop by my house first?" Dwayne asked. "I need to leave a note so my mom doesn't send out a search party…I don't go out often." Dwayne regretted saying the words as soon as they left his mouth.
"Sure," Penelope responded. For a moment he couldn't remember how to drive, her beauty was paralyzing. Eventually the numbness subsided and he put the key into the ignition. The yellow beast roared into life and they drove in silence towards his house. Dwayne wished he had a radio to break up the awkward air, but Penelope seemed completely at ease. She rolled the window down and let her hand cut through the air rushing by, the bracelets on her wrist jingled quietly. A few stray hairs whipped about in the rays of sun.
"Alright, this should only take a minute. You can come in if you'd like," Dwayne said as he pulled the van in front of the house. Penelope swung open the passenger side door with a squeak and eagerly followed him to the front of the house.
When Dwayne swung open the front door he was greeted by the sound of small footsteps rushing toward him.
"Dwayne!" It was Olive, his little sister. She gave his leg a warm hug and pushed her oversized glasses up as she took a step backwards.
"Hi Olive," Dwayne greeted. He expected the eight-year-old to launch into a detailed account of her day, but the girl stood with a grin on her face.
"Hi," she said sheepishly. Olive was looking at Penelope with her hands behind her back.
"Hello," Penelope said with a radiant smile in return.
"Penelope this is Olive, Olive this is Penelope," Dwayne introduced them.
"Nice to meet you," Penelope said. She held out her hand and Olive shook it with curious eyes.
"Dwayne, is this your girlfriend?" Olive asked, turning her eyes toward her older brother. "She's pretty."
"No," Dwayne said, feeling the color rise to his cheeks. "Why don't you go watch cartoons or something with Uncle Frank." Uncle Frank didn't live with them anymore, but he had moved to the same city and often came over to help out with the family since Richard's father had died. Olive frowned in protest.
"I like your hair," Olive commented.
"Thank you!" Penelope took the flower out from behind her ear and handed it to Olive. "You can have this," she said. Olive grabbed the white flower and smiled.
"Thanks!" And with a final look at her brother, Olive turned and left. Dwayne chuckled nervously.
"That was nice of you," he said. Penelope shrugged.
"She's really cute. I didn't know you had a sister." Penelope followed Dwayne to the kitchen. "I don't have any siblings. You're lucky to have her."
"Yeah, she's alright for a little sister," Dwayne joked. He had long been the object of Olive's childhood games and he'd grown accustomed to playing the older brother role.
Dwayne grabbed a notepad from the cluttered counter and scrawled a note to his mother in messy handwriting. Mom, I'm going out with a friend. I'll be back by dinner. –Dwayne. He knew that she'd be so pleased by the friend part that she wouldn't protest. She disapproved of his antisocial behavior. Dwayne then grabbed two sodas from the fridge and two apples, and then shoved them into a brown paper bag. He threw his backpack into his bedroom, said hello to his uncle who was half-asleep on the couch, and then headed back to Penelope.
"Alright, let's go," he said. Penelope smiled and followed him back to the van.
"Where are we going?" the girl asked.
"I think I have a place, if you don't mind just talking. I don't know about you, but I'm kind of tired of people today," Dwayne offered. "Well, besides you of course," he added as an afterthought. He could feel his confidence returning slightly. Penelope agreed with him and they once again entered the yellow van.
one hour later
The tall, yellow grass swayed like a million strands dancing with purpose just for the two of them. The hot sun beat down with no mercy, preferring to leave that to the unseen breeze that came to their rescue—sliding across their skin to keep them cool. Their world was riddled with decisions that awaited them, pressure that came from all sides, dreams that flickered and threatened to be extinguished by the harsh reality of their looming adult selves. But here—with an open ocean of a sky above them—none of that seemed important. Thick clouds of disorganized perfection rolled about at a steady pace, shifting comfortably and never showing any signs of emotional turmoil as they effortlessly changed their shape and course of action.
Dwayne sat with his legs crossed. He leaned back on his arms, the warm soil giving slightly beneath his fingers. Penelope lay on her back, absentmindedly playing with a piece of grass that kept tickling her face. Her expression was pensive but peaceful, her eyes closed to block the sun. Lines of shadow quivered over her face from the moving grass that surrounded her. There was a small speck of blue paint on her right cheek. Dwayne thought she looked more in place lying there than she ever had when he'd seen her walking through the halls at school. He bit into one of the apples he had brought, the fibers snapping with a delicious sound as his mind churned with thought.
"This sun is amazing," he said after a moment. "I spend a lot of time outside, but it still always amazes me sometimes, you know?" Squinting away from the sun he looked down at Penelope's face to see her smirking and holding back a chuckle.
"What?" he asked defensively.
"Oh, it's nothing…" Penelope insisted, trying unsuccessfully to change the subject.
"No, what is it?" Dwayne persisted.
"It's just…you're so…pale! I didn't see you as the outdoors kind of guy." She opened one eye and held her hand over her face to see his reaction. Dwayne shook his head and laughed.
"I'm pale?" He looked down at his pasty, white arms and nodded. His dark bracelets were a harsh contrast to his skin. "I guess you're right. Maybe I spend a lot of time in the shade," he joked. Penelope's pale, rosy lips turned up into the smile that Dwayne was quickly becoming addicted to. Conversation seemed effortless with her now.
"So, do you know what you're going to do after college?" Penelope questioned. Dwayne looked up at the sky and sighed.
"I want…to fly jets," he said with a hint of melancholy sliding from his mouth. "I don't think that's going to happen though."
"Why not?"
"I'm slightly color-blind. They don't let you become a pilot if you're color-blind." Dwayne didn't hide his bitterness.
"Hey." Penelope sat up onto her elbows and looked Dwayne straight in the face. "Weren't you the one who was just telling me to follow my dream of becoming an artist earlier?" She had him there. It took all of Dwayne's energy for him not to look away from Penelope's radiance. Her beauty made him uneasy, but he stared back at her nonetheless.
"Everybody is standing in my way," he said finally.
"The world is full of people standing in our way," she said. He nodded with a frown.
"Don't you wish…" Dwayne started. As his confidence grew and his mind churned with rediscovered passion for life, Dwayne penetrated Penelope's eyes with his gaze. "…that we could just stay out here under the sky, away from people."
"Every day," Penelope responded. She sat up so that she was eye-level with the boy uttering these words. The sky was bruising with intensity along the horizon, spilling purple and pink light onto the blue in its excitement.
"Sometimes it's painful for me to sit in class all day when I can see the trees outside the window," Penelope continued. "I'm afraid that humans are going to destroy everything beautiful."
"Penelope…why don't more people think like you do?" Dwayne reached his hand out and ever so gently touched the back of her hand. Penelope's eyes were a light brown color that sparkled with an unnatural light of their own. Dwayne sat transfixed by them, the hairs on his neck stood up and his throat felt as if it would close up.
He moved his other hand to her cheek. His fingers brushed her ivory skin. He studied her with intensity as she looked up at him through long lashes and moved her hand to hold his more tightly. Dwayne leaned forward and lifted her face so that he could properly see her eyes again. Their lips met for but a second—soft, pure, and electric. Dwayne was filled with a heady feeling of wind rushing by and a heat that had nothing to do with the sun that was rapidly setting. He felt her sweet breath against his mouth as he pulled away.
With half-closed eyes she looked at him, smiled, and then leaned in to hug him. He wrapped his arms around her small frame and at that moment knew that he didn't want to let her go. After a timeless moment, Penelope released herself from his embrace. The air hung thick with comfort and bliss. The young couple sat in the simplicity of the moment, savoring what they knew would soon be gone.
"I guess I should get home now." The sun was almost completely hidden and the blue sky was darkening into a rich blanket of velvet.
"Yeah, it's probably time," Dwayne said reluctantly. He stood and helped her to her feet. With fingers laced they walked back to the yellow van, smiles permanently placed upon their faces.
"Dwayne?"
"Yeah?"
"I'm glad we came here."
Dwayne smiled, the butterflies rising in his stomach again.
"Me too." He started up the van, which made its disapproval known with a deep, metallic grumble. "Penelope?"
"Yeah?"
"You're amazing."
