"Two steps behind her, I say her name.
'Skye'" (228).
She stops and looks over her shoulder, fixing me with that disconcerting stare of hers. "Yes?" Her hands are swallowed by the pockets on her gray sweatshirt.
"Um, well…" My mind is blank- I haven't thought of what to say next. I blurt out the first thing that comes to mind: "Did… Did you know that" She hasn't blinked once the entire time. "Well, I just thought I'd tell you… I really li-thought you were pretty -cool back in eighth grade." It sounds a little like a question, but I can't let her walk down that hallway –that same hallway– without talking to her, without at least trying.
Still staring, she faces me completely. "So?" Another one-word answer. Over the past year, her replies to everyone have gotten shorter and harsher, making anyone who tries to talk to her uncomfortable.
I try to find a point, a way to keep her talking, like Mr. Porter would. "So… Since then, I guess, I've wanted to get to know you." Which isn't a total lie. I had wanted to, that is, until she started being so distant as to make conversation like talking to a stubbornly unhelpful receptionist.
Skye is the kind of girl who could be very pretty if she didn't hide under layers of t-shirts and too-large hoodies, and thinking about this, I realize I've never seen her without some sort of sweater since the beginning of high school, even in the summer. It's one of the things Hannah would have easily seen.
I notice that Skye isn't saying anything, but she also isn't staring anymore either. One of her hands is twisting in her pocket nervously, the other reaches up to the many key chains on her backpack. One of them is the ticket mascot of the local theater—it was a giveaway a few years back to frequent visitors.
"Oh, cool, you got the Ticket Man one!" I smile, hoping it doesn't seem fake. I'm just glad to find something I can relate to. "I used to work there over the summer," I tell her, latching onto the only connection I can find. Keeping the conversation moving. Moving, even though it's stupid and awkward and maybe downhill…
"That's nice. I used to go there all the time." Her reply is quiet, and she still sounds distant, but it's a longer answer at least. She glances at her watch. "We should get to class before the bell rings." She starts to walk away.
"Hey, Skye?"
She looks back, and she's not as intimidating.
"Do you want to hang out after school sometime, maybe grab some coffee, or work on homework or something?"
There is something a little different in her eyes as she says, "we'll see." She turns again and strides down the hallway to her first period.
I can almost hear a smile in her footsteps, and I'm smiling too as I head for class.
The shrill ring of the late bell cuts through my thoughts, and I swear under my breath, swiveling around as I stormily make my way to the attendance office. Skye smiles and waves at me as I pass by her classroom.
I wave back. There's something worth it about my third tardy of the semester.
Something a little like hope.