"Hmm?" he turned toward me. I sat silent for a moment trying to see if he would break down his clam façade. My eyes wandered his face trying to find a crack in his mask, but I was surprised to find none. Why couldn't I detect any hurt or struggle on his face now? Especially after he let me read that.
"Um," I stuttered momentarily flabbergasted by his cool demeanor. "This was really good."
A smile fell on his lips and Adam thanked me gleefully. "I thought you were going to say that it has really bad sentence structure and lingered from the original point of the paragraph."
"Well now that you mention it…" I trailed off playfully. It was now my turn to smile. His eyebrow rose in fake annoyance, but I didn't relent. Instead, I shook my head and began to 'correct' his work. "You have a few clauses and phrases in here. Oh, and switching back and forth between he and she is really confusing."
Adam rubbed the back of his neck and his face lightly flushed. "Yeah, I, um, just kept writing and found myself talking about both."
"Who?" I questioned. One answer was his birth father. But who was the woman that Adam spoke of in his paper.
"Um," Adam hesitated.
I sighed. "If you let me read that then you should be fine telling me. Why did you let me read that by the way? It seemed kind of personal."
He shrugged. "I don't know. I just thought that it was the most raw material I've ever written and that it would be a good piece to start with. Plus, I knew it would get conversation going so I could get to know you better."
Red blush crept up his cheeks and I felt my own get hot. Adam adverted his eyes back to the freshman and I followed by taking interest in the boy and the junior near him. The yellow-shirted boy sitting to her right (on my left) and had his arm slung around the girl's chair. He was trying to talk to her, but the girl kept turning away from him and looking somewhere else, anywhere else.
I decided his name was Grant because he had shaggy brown hair cropped just below his ears and he just looked like a Grant. I decided her name was Emily because she had long blonde hair that fell off one side of her head more than the other. I also decided that Grant had been pursuing Emily for quite a while now and she secretly liked him and the attention he gave her, but thought it unrealistic to be involved with a niner. Their yellow and red polo shirts reminded me a lot of ketchup and mustard. You like them both, and they taste good together, but sometimes you just can't put them together.
I felt a tang of pity in me as I looked at his face, pleading with her to just hear him out. It brought memories of Eli Goldsworthy back to me and how he never really paid attention to us. But that was the past; Adam was my present.
"Adam," I finally said after a while.
"Imogen," he sighed. I said nothing in return hoping he'd continue. He did. "He, as you know was – is – my birthfather. The guy's a jerk and after he found out about me, he freaked. Told my mom there was absolutely no way he could support a thing like me. The she is my grams. I told her about me over spring break and she reacted worse, saying how I was against God and faith and society. I should be a miserable, self-harming, and dead-inside girl in her mind over this. It sickens me."
All I could do was nod. What else was there to do? I didn't know anything about what he was going through and so I couldn't understand or empathize with him. I could show him pity or sympathy, but I knew he didn't want it. Instead, I reached over and placed my hand over his.
Adam spun towards me at the sudden contact and looked at our hands. His eyes shot up to my face questioning my intentions. I simply nodded, letting him know that I was here for him to talk to. A relieved smile graced his face and I felt my own lips widen.
In the background, heels were clicking and slapping the ground. Adam, upon recognizing whoever it was, snapped his hand back and looked away. I turned to face whoever it was that ruined my moment with him and almost wished I hadn't.
"Adam," Mrs. Torres's voice resonated in the room and filled the air thick with tension. "I've been waiting," her tone was expectant and annoyed, but I felt some of the annoyance directed towards me.
"Um, yeah, sorry mom," he responded. "Imogen was just helping me with my writing." I turned and gave a small smile and wave in her direction.
I received a stiff nod in return. "Well let's go, young man. Your father and I are meeting with some people in twenty minutes and I need you home before that. Drew and that girl are waiting for you."
"Her name is Bianca, mom," Adam said exasperatedly while rolling his eyes. Something in that tone hit me hard. His voice rang with care and it hurt me to know how he felt about her. I am no Bianca DeSousa; I can't compete with her.
Mrs. Torres pulled her purse up her shoulder and lifted her chin. "Yes, well," she said, "she and Drew are at home waiting for you. And your father is waiting for me, so I suggest we leave. It was nice to meet you…" she trailed forgetting my name.
"Imogen," I said. She nodded in semi-acknowledgement. Adam once again rolled his eyes and gathered his things as Mrs. Torres checked her watch.
"I'll see you later, Imogen," he said. It was my turn to nod, and he left.