After school, in the empty music room, Liberty hugged herself and cried. J.T. had solidly rejected her for the last time. She rocked on the edge of the chair, felt the thick tears on her cheeks. But she didn't want to let him go.
"Uh, oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone was in here," Craig Manning said after he had stepped into the room, his guitar slung over his shoulder. Liberty stared at him, knowing what she must look like. Her cheeks wet, her hair matted, her clothes ill-fitting. Craig was so far out of her realm of possibilities it wasn't even funny. He liked cool girls like Ashley Kerwin, impossibly self-assured and self-aware. He liked sexy girls like Manny Santos. Liberty knew she was neither of those things. So she could think his messy curly hair was cute and that his large dark hazel eyes were alluring but it did no good.
She didn't say anything, just wiped her tear stained face on her sleeve and sniffed.
"What's, uh, what's wrong?" he said, taking a tentative step toward her. She sighed. Pity. That's all it was. That's all it could be with popular upper classmen like him.
"Nothing," she said, hugging herself tighter.
He set his guitar down, came even closer, dragged a chair over to her. Beyond him, in the hallway, she could almost see the stillness in the air. No one was here.
"C'mon," he said, "it's not nothing. What is it?"
She sniffed again, wishing she were Ashley Kerwin for just one second. She'd had that wish before, when Ashley had been doing the morning announcements with an ease that made her envy her. Ashley didn't get tongue tied and flustered in front of a camera, in front of groups of people, in front of boys. She never felt the red blush burning up her cheeks.
"Okay, it's J.T. He doesn't want anything to do with me," She stared at him defiantly. What could he say to that?
"Oh, that's too bad," Craig said, and she started to see what Manny saw in him. She felt like he was listening to her, like he cared. But what did it matter? He was kind of popular, kind of cute, a singer in a band, and she was a geek in overalls.
"Yeah, well, can you blame him?" she said, feeling the sympathy for herself rise up in her throat. All she wanted was someone to like her back, for someone to give her the attention she was able and willing to lavish on someone else. And J.T. She saw so much in him. His comedic skills. His way with fashion design. His quick mind despite his solid C grades. There was so much more to him and she saw it. She wished someone would see that in her.
"Yeah, I mean, I can blame him. He shouldn't be, you know, blowing you off," Craig said, looking down for a second, and then back into her eyes. She sucked in her breath. He was quite good looking. Those large eyes, full lips, pale skin. The vulnerability visible just below the surface.
"Why not?" she said, "I'm nothing. I'm a geek. I'm ugly. I'm nothing," She could feel the tears wanting to start, she could feel them building behind her eyes.
Craig took her hands in his, and she was surprised by that. She looked at him steadily.
"No," he said, "you're not nothing. You're not ugly. You're cute,"
She just looked at him, wanting to believe him. Cute? Her? Liberty Van Zant? The tears spilled because he was lying to her to be nice, to make her feel better, and J.T. was such a jerk.
"Yeah, thanks, but I know you're just saying that to be nice-"
"No," he said, and outside the room in the hallway the light was gold and almost thick, hanging between the lockers like a veil.
"You're smart and you're cute, and don't let J.T. determine how you think about yourself. Don't give anybody that power," he said, and she ducked her head and wiped her tears again.
"Okay?" he said softly, leaning in toward her, and she thought he was going to kiss her. She closed her eyes and felt his lips on hers, softly, brushing against her gently. She reached up and put her arms around him, the gold light from the hall against her closed lids.