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Chapter 9: Opportunities

The funny thing about boys is that I always assumed they were jerks. The ones at school were always loud and obnoxious. The ones here were loud and obnoxious. So I deduced that all boys under the age of 45 were loud and obnoxious.

But not Stanley.

It's hard to form an opinion on someone from just one conversation - and an awkward one, at that. But guys I had met before usually didn't care what I had to say. Granted, I'd always been with Peyton, but even if I did say something, it went unheeded or Peyton was the only one who acknowledged it or, in the D-Tent's case, they'd laugh and poke fun at me.

But not Stanley.

And the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to talk to him. Like, I genuinely wanted to sit down and have a civil conversation with him. No awkwardness, no stupid onlookers, no trying too hard to flirt. Just the two of us talking.

There was just one problem with this: I had to tell Peyton.

I didn't want to tell her. I really didn't. She'd take it the wrong way, which is the exact opposite of what I wanted. But she was the only one who could keep the boys from bothering me during their free time, and if I wanted to get Stanley where no one would bother us, I'd have to let her in on what was going on. Even if that meant I'd have to endure "I told you so" accompanied with a bright smile for the rest of my life.

So the next afternoon, when she came back from the water truck, I told her.

And her reaction didn't disappoint.

"Oh my GOD!" She squealed and started doing a little dance. "Trix, that's so cute! And I think he's totally into you! Why didn't you tell me sooner?"

"Because I was afraid you'd do this," I said bluntly. "And you have."

"Sorry...but it's so exciting!" She sat down beside me on the couch. "I finally get to help you with a boy!"

I sighed. "Peyton, it's not like that. I told you. I just need you to keep the other guys busy while I talk to him, alright?"

"Well, why him?" Peyton was positively giddy. "You never did this with the other guys. You were never this concerned about them being rude or whatever you think of them."

Words failed me just then. "Well...I just...maybe it's time I started doing that," I said quickly, feeling my face heat up.

She nudged me. "It's alright to admit that you have a crush on him, Trix. There's nothing wrong with that."

"I don't even KNOW him!" I exclaimed. "How can I possibly have a crush on a guy I've said all of five sentences to?"

"You at least think he's cute." She raised an eyebrow. "That much is true. I know it is."

I looked away, biting my lip. I wasn't going to say that. Because I didn't think Stanley Yelnats was cute. He wasn't cute in the slightest. I mean, his smile was nice, as was his laugh. But a lot of people had nice smiles and laughs. That meant absolutely nothing. But he was actually answering my questions last night, and making an effort to talk. It was polite of him to do. Not many boys I knew were like that. And his eyes were the color of grass back home, the really soft kind, and they were just so big and showed that he really was nervous and scared but kind of curious as well and they were just so...damn...

Cute.

Okay.

So maybe I thought he was a little cute.

So what?

I turned back to Peyton. "Can you just please make sure no one bothers us? And doesn't get the wrong idea?"

She smiled and nodded. "If you guys end up dating, I'm totally going to take credit."

I rolled my eyes. "It's not very likely, so go right ahead."

I kept chickening out.

I know, I know, I'm pathetic, right? Some random kinda-fat kid with largish teeth waltzes into camp, and suddenly I'm gun shy and can't even look at him. But I was scared. I'll admit it. I'd never actually done anything about a crush of mine beyond staring at said object of affection. So to actually do something more than that was kind of daunting to me. Especially if he wasn't interested in even speaking to me.

Peyton was getting kind of annoyed with me when I hadn't done anything by the time Stanley had been there a week. She said that if I didn't talk to him soon, she'd make a very public show of literally pushing us together and making us talk. I was beginning to think I should just give up and let myself be embarrassed when I finally got my chance.

You might call it sheer coincidence, but I like to think of it otherwise.

The only way I could look for opportune moments was if I made an effort, so I had to break my personal rule of going near the boys. I sat in a secluded corner of the Rec Room,, in the same chair, every day. Peyton must have been upholding her end of the bargain, because the guys didn't give me any trouble that entire week. I don't know how she did it, but it was nice to pretend to read in peace for once.

Stanley was sitting at a table a few feet away, writing a letter. I assumed it was to his parents, but I didn't know if he even had parents; maybe he was an orphan. Maybe he was writing his will. Maybe he was writing a story or fanfiction or something. I'd never know until I asked him.

I was debating whether or not to leave the comfort and relative safety of the chair when Squid appeared. He snatched whatever Stanley had been writing out from under him and skimmed it. "Who you writin' to? Awww, you miss your mommy and daddy?"

Stanley shot out of his chair and followed him. "I don't want them to worry," he said, reaching for the letter.

"They don't care," Squid said. He pushed Stanley's hand away, his eyes never leaving the paper.

"Give me the letter -"

"Believe me!" Squid grabbed the front of Stanley's suit, simultaneously crumpling the letter. He threw it in the trash and walked away. "They're glad to be rid of you."

I don't know what I was expecting, but it sure wasn't what happened next. Stanley picked the letter out of the trash, went over to the outgoing mailbox, smoothed it out, gave it a kiss, and put it in the slot.

And that was what finally propelled me to go over and say something. Maybe it was the sentimental side of me, but I thought what he had done was brave. I suppose I'm a sucker for guys who aren't afraid to show love to their family.

Lord knows my own family's screwed up enough as it is.

I stood behind him for a few moments before I finally found my voice.

"You kiss everything you pick up out of the trash?"

He turned around, a look of recognition in his eyes. I was waiting for him to shake his head and walk away, to ignore what I had said. It was more biting than I'd intended it to be.

Instead, he shrugged and said, "Only if I feel like it."

I felt myself smile at that. "So was that letter to your parents?"

"Yeah." He ducked his head. "It's not like I'm...not to say I don't...they made me promise to write to them every week -"

"I think that's sweet."

He looked up and frowned. "...Really?"

I nodded. "Yeah. I mean, if they're worried about you..." I trailed off, my mind drawing a blank.

"They are, trust me."

"Well, then...it's nice for them to know what's going on."

"Yeah. I...I guess it is."

I nodded again, sensing the conversation was over and turning to walk away. I mentally winced; that had so not gone over well.

"Hey...Beatrice?"

I couldn't help the smile that fought its way onto my face as I turned to face him. "Yeah?"

"I was wondering if you'd wanna...sit and talk? If you're not too busy with your reading...?"

I smiled wider. He wanted to talk to me, too. I had been my usual awkward self, and he still wanted to talk to me.

"I'd like that," I answered. "Do me one favor."

He blinked, confused, but nodded.

"Call me Beatrice with all these people listening again, and I'll kick you in the shin."

The answering smile I got was one I won't forget. Especially since it was for me.