Chapter 22: This Will Be Our Year
"You don't have to worry
All your worried days are gone
This will be our year
Took a long time to come"
Friday. January 24, 1986.
POV: Winter Reid
Mrs. Friedan stands at the front of the room, droning on about mercantilism, as I stare down at the open notebook. I haven't taken notes in the past twenty minutes. Usually, I am a very attentive student, but lately, there seem to be more distractions around me. Maybe history class has always been like this, or more people know my name now.
Either way, I don't like it.
A lanky basketball player at the desk next to me leans over and asks to copy my notes. A girl behind me taps on my shoulder and asks if I'm going to somebody's house on Friday night because somebody's parents went out of town. A nerd sitting at the desk forward and diagonally right from mine turns his head and wiggles his eyebrows at me.
I don't have a great attention span anyways, and with all these new diversions, I can't seem to focus on anything Mrs. Friedan says about the thirteen colonies.
I sink in my seat, and my pencil draws across the page in my notebook, sketching a lilac stem. The George Harrison song from this morning plays in my head. A soft smile creeps on my face as I recall how mad Eddie looked when I switched off his music. I glance at the clock above the chalkboard, and it informs me there are fifteen more minutes until lunch. I point my chin back down to my notebook and shade the edges of the flower.
My mind begins to wander back into a memory. When I duck inside my head, I imagine my memories are like cardboard reels a child inserts into the View-Master they got for Christmas. Instead of looking through the apparatus and seeing the Grand Canyon, my brain reveals a cloudy day in August 1982.
My family had settled into Forest Hills for a few months, but I still felt uncomfortable venturing outside the trailer. Eddie was very persistent, however, and I found myself cautiously following behind him as he ran down his favorite path in the woods and navigated through the maze of beat-up cars in the junkyard.
I have always had difficulty opening up to people, and I watched Eddie with my breath held, just waiting until he eventually grew tired of hanging out with me. Maybe he would decide I was too boring or too anxious. He just seemed so charismatic and individual, and I didn't fancy myself either of those things.
One cloudy afternoon, I sat in my bedroom, which was still devoid of any furniture beyond my small bed, and I listened as my parents' voices began to grow in volume. I swung my legs off the mattress and opened my bedroom window, taking their argument as my cue to wander outside.
My white Keds thudded against the dirt below my window. The wind was beginning to blow more fiercely, and I could see storm clouds in the distance rolling closer.
I walked past the rusty swing set and waded through the weeds behind the row of trailers, but I couldn't find Eddie anywhere. I should've grabbed a book from my room and found a nice place to sit outside, but I hadn't, and I couldn't risk going back indoors.
I walked back to the front of my trailer and stood in the dirt, watching my parent's exaggerated hand movements through our living room window.
My dad leaned forward with his hands chopping the air; my mom dug her fingers into her scalp and shook her head madly. I sighed and looked up at the angry sky; then, my eyes trailed toward the Munson trailer.
It wouldn't hurt to knock, would it?
I gently scaled the porch steps and stood in front of the door. I pulled the sleeves of my sweatshirt over my hands and raised one fist. I knocked quickly before taking a large step backward and clasping my hands tightly behind my back. I rocked back and forth on the balls of my feet. The door opened, and a kind man smiled down at me.
"Hi, Mr. Munson," I said, my voice timid and low. "Um... is Eddie home?"
"You're his new friend, aren't you?" Uncle Wayne asked with a smile.
Friend? I wasn't sure if we were friends, but I liked the sound of it.
A small smile crept over my face. I pressed my lips tightly together, consciously hiding my crooked teeth. "I guess so?"
"He's back in his room." He stepped backward and motioned me inside.
"Thank you," I uttered quietly and stepped over the threshold.
I looked down the hall and observed the door facing me at the end.
"Go on ahead, dear," Uncle Wayne said, moving back to lean against the counter in the kitchen.
I nodded and took a step down the hallway.
"It's nice that he has a friend here," he added quietly.
I looked back over my shoulder at him. He had moved to switch on the TV in the living room, and I watched as he settled onto the couch.
I felt my mouth pull up into a smile and walked down the hall. I raised my fist to knock softly on the closed door.
"What is it?" I heard a voice call.
Not who is it... what is it? He had asked.
"Um... it's a Winter," I replied.
"Oh!" The voice yelled. The next sound I heard was a body flop against the floor and a pile of objects clatter. "Ouch!"
I knitted my eyebrows and turned in the hallway, looking back towards Mr. Munson. Voices from the program he was watching floated down the hall.
"Uh... just a second!" Eddie shouted. "Ugh!"
I heard drawers slamming and quick footsteps crossing the floor.
I sighed and crossed my arms over my chest.
I was about to knock one more time when Eddie yelled out, "It's open!"
I reached for the gold doorknob and pushed his door open slowly. Eddie was sitting on his desk chair with one leg crossed casually over the other. He had his elbow leaned on his knee, and he was thoughtfully studying a paperback book.
It looked like he had sat down in this position seconds ago, but I didn't comment on it. I stepped into his room and began studying the walls. My eyes passed over band posters, paper drawings of dragons and wizards, and two polaroid pictures tucked in the mirror that hung on the back of his door.
"Hi," the voice by the desk said.
I turned my head. "Hi."
I looked back at the polaroids. One showed a pretty woman holding an infant, and the other was a picture of a young boy standing in front of a Ferris wheel.
I smiled and then turned to walk across the carpet to the other side of his room.
Eddie shut the book he had been pretending to read. He watched me study his room and began tapping a nervous beat on the surface of his desk.
His room was messy, but things were concentrated in piles, and I could tell that some attempts had been made to clean up the space quickly.
His laundry hamper overflowed, a pile of shoes sat behind the door, and any leftover objects had been shoved haphazardly under the bed.
The bed was the same size as mine, with a plaid duvet tugged over the mattress and a copy of The Lord of the Rings resting gently atop his pillow.
"Woah..." I murmured and moved to the shelf by his window.
My fingers brushed over a small record player. Next to it on the floor were two cardboard boxes stuffed with vinyl.
I knelt and started to search through them.
"Oh, most of those are my uncles!" Eddie explained from the desk. "He says music helps you focus and... um... calm down. So, he gave me those..."
I nodded and pulled out After the Gold Rush by Neil Young.
I stood up and held it in my hand, flipping it over to read the tracklist on the back.
Eddie nervously walked over to me. He shoved his hands in his back pockets and crossed his arms. He looked up and tried to lean against his bookshelf but wobbled on his feet, and his back collided against it. He quickly pushed himself back to a standing position, clasped his hands behind his back, and then tentatively offered me a smile.
I blinked at him slowly and raised my eyebrows. I hadn't known him for long, but he wasn't usually this quiet.
"Um, everything okay?" I asked.
"I've never had a girl in my room before," he blurted.
His deep brown eyes were wide.
I tilted my head and looked around the small room. My gaze landed back on him.
"Oh... how is it different from having a boy in your room?" I asked.
My mouth formed a tiny o in confusion, and Eddie laughed. I tilted my chin down. I really didn't understand what the big deal was.
His laugh faltered, and he cleared his throat.
"Oh, well, I guess it's not really that different."
He looked down at his socks, and I shrugged my shoulders.
"Your room is exactly like mine. Except, I don't have any stuff in my room yet," I said.
I stepped next to Eddie and studied the trinkets that decorated his shelf.
My eyes danced over pinecones, marbles, small gears, action figures, smooth rocks, and a pair of broken glasses. Eddie must've collected all these treasures from the grounds around our trailer park. I could feel him watching me closely. I snapped my eyes over and furrowed my eyebrows at him. He looked away quickly.
Weird boy.
"Have you read all of these?" I asked, pointing at the books.
"Most of them," he said. "This one is my favorite. The Outsiders."
He pulled down a well-loved paperback copy. He ran his thumb through it, causing the pages to flutter. I could see how several pages were folded and creased, and specific passages were marked with circles and stars.
"Oh, nice! I've never read that one," I said.
Eddie smiled and set it back on the shelf.
"Hey, do you like Stephen King?" He asked.
"Who?"
Eddie's eyes widened. "You don't know who Stephen King is?"
I shrugged my shoulders and looked again at the Neil Young record in my hands.
"He's the best! He writes scary stories about all kinds of monsters and crazy stuff," Eddie babbled.
He bent forward and began scanning the shelves in front of him, and his finger ran aggressively along the spines of his books.
"Here-" He pulled out a novel and set it atop the record in my hands. "You've gotta borrow that one. It's so good."
"Cujo..." I read.
"It's about a psycho dog!"
I looked up at him and found him smiling widely. I felt my mouth pull upwards.
"Okay, I'll read it."
I picked up the book with one hand and turned it over.
"Oh, you don't want to listen to that album," Eddie said, pulling it from my hands.
He moved around me quickly and dropped to his knees. He began digging through a box and tossing out records next to him. They slid and scattered around his floor.
I watched his casual chaos and moved to kneel next to him. I quietly began collecting and stacking the rejected vinyl.
He paused suddenly and looked over.
"What kind of music do you listen to?"
I leaned back on my knees and blinked.
I had never really thought about that before. I didn't really have my own favorite music.
"Um... whatever my parents listen to?" I offered.
"Well, that's your first mistake," Eddie shook his head.
I shrugged.
"My dad likes country western, and my mom likes sad women who sing about their sad feelings."
Eddie laughed, and it startled me. I wasn't trying to be funny, but I hesitated a small smile back at him.
"This is the one!" Eddie said triumphantly, clutching a vinyl in his hands.
I peered around his shoulder and tried to read it. He removed the record from the sleeve, stretched up, and lifted the needle on the record player. The console switched on.
The record began to spin. Eddie looked back at me.
"This is Led Zeppelin," he said.
He set the needle down, and Immigrant Song began blaring from the speakers.
My eyes widened slowly as the full force of the music hit me. It felt like a strong wave crashing over my head, but I kind of liked it. Eddie laughed at my expression.
"This sounds crazy," I shouted. "It's nothing like Joni Mitchell!"
Eddie leaned toward me. "Do you like it?"
His eyes searched my face; I think he wanted my approval.
"I don't know yet!" I yelled over the music.
I scooted back and laid flat on his carpet. I placed both hands above my belly button and stared at his ceiling. Eddie tilted his head at me, and my eyes gazed up; he was kneeling next to me, looking very confused.
I shrugged my shoulders up at him and closed my eyes.
I felt Eddie shift and lie down next to me. I cracked one eye open, and his head was next to mine; his hands were on his stomach, and he stared upward, too.
"Is this how you listen to music?" He asked me.
"Pretty much," I replied. "My brain always feels like it's pulled in a hundred different directions, so sometimes I just like to put on music, lay down like this, and... float."
"Float?" Eddie asked.
"Yeah... float. Spiritually," I added.
Eddie laughed out loud, and I giggled along with him.
"You have to close your eyes, though!"
I looked at him. His brown eyes met mine.
"It doesn't work if you don't close your eyes," I whispered
Eddie continued to stare at me. I moved my gaze to the ceiling, inhaled deeply, and exhaled out of my mouth. I closed my eyes and felt the notes float into my skull and settle between the folds in my brain. I could hear Eddie take a deep breath next to me, and I felt his gaze shift away from my face.
The lead singer wailed, and his voice echoed over the repeating tempo. It sounded like an earthquake or the thundering hooves of a herd of buffalo.
It was cool. It made me feel cool, which was a relatively new feeling.
The song ended, and Friends by Led Zeppelin began to play through the speakers.
Eddie and I lay on his floor until I could hear the rain pounding loudly against the window. My eyes snapped open.
The weather outside had somehow overpowered Led Zeppelin, and I slowly pushed myself onto my elbows.
I looked over at Eddie. He was still lying on his back. His eyes were closed, and a peaceful smile floated across his face.
I had only known him for a few months, but I admired that as soon as he opened his mouth, I knew exactly what type of person he was. He wore his personality all over. You could see it in his clothes and his buzzed hair. The way he smiled wider and laughed louder than anyone else. He was generous and wild, deeply imaginative, and thoughtful.
Looking around his small bedroom, I could see his personality represented in every corner. I wish I knew who I was the same way he seemed to know himself.
Eddie's eyes slowly blinked open, and he looked mildly startled to find me staring at him.
His face slowly changed to a small smile.
"So, do you like this band?"
"Yeah, they're badass," I affirmed. "Consider my mind blown."
Eddie's face spread into a victorious grin.
"So, your uncle just lets you listen to whatever you want?" I asked him.
I laid back down on the carpet. My arm dropped against the floor, and I could feel the slightest graze of Eddie's skin alongside mine.
"Yeah, he's pretty cool. He never yells at me, although I wouldn't blame him if he did." He paused. "He doesn't have any kids of his own... but he takes care of me."
"Is he all the family you have?" I asked.
"Kind of, um..." Eddie hesitated. "Last I heard, my dad is in prison, and my mom..." His voice trailed off.
I fixed my gaze on the ceiling. I suddenly felt bad for asking him about this at all.
"She left when I was little," he added softly.
I looked over at him; he didn't look sad, just solemn.
"What about your parents?"
I snorted. "What about them?"
"I don't know... are they nice?"
His question was so simple, but I found it hard to answer.
"Yeah, my mom is nice," I ventured.
"What about your dad?" Eddie's voice was low, as if he knew he was getting closer to dangerous territory.
I felt my shoulders lift in a shrug. I tried to sound casual, but my words fell out in a broken whisper.
"Not really."
Eddie grew silent. I felt hot tears begin to prick in my eyes. My hand curled into a fist, and my nails dug into the center of my skin.
I never liked talking about any of this out loud. I felt like all of my emotions lived in a locked box, and I was worried that letting out any of the good things would free the bad things too. I always tried my hardest to stay neutral and quiet.
But, I discovered that laying next to Eddie made it hard to keep the box closed. Despite my better judgments, I shared things with him, and now other emotions were seeping through the cracked lid.
"Are you okay?" Eddie asked.
Ugh, that's the worst thing you can ask someone when they're on the verge of crying.
My chest sucked in a sudden, pained breath, and my eyes blurred. My nails pushed deeper into my palm.
"I'm fine," I finally responded, but my voice cracked. "My mom... sometimes I worry about my mom."
I felt an emotion escape the box and exhale from my lips. It felt like a ghost floating out of a long-imprisoned tomb.
Hey, that wasn't so bad.
I felt my breath begin to stabilize; another feeling rose in my throat, and my words continued to spill out.
"I don't think my parents should be together," I said quietly. "They bring out the worst in each other."
Control, that's what I was beginning to feel. I've never felt that before.
I finished the thought that begged to be released.
"I wish my dad would've stayed behind in California. Then maybe my mom and I would be safe at my grandparent's house in Indianapolis... instead of here."
Eddie shifted next to me. His fingers momentarily brushed over my closed fist; my hand unclenched, and the pain subsided.
Finally, he said, "I'm glad you're here. But I'm sorry that you don't want to be."
I nodded my head. The movement caused the carpet beneath me to infuse static into my hair, and my strands lightly zapped my shoulders.
"It's okay," I offered. "This is nice... being in your room. It feels like the first quiet place I've found since I've been here."
Eddie chuckled, and I looked over at him, surprised.
He grinned at me. "I don't think anyone has ever described me as quiet."
I released a soft giggle.
"No, I mean... it's calm. You make me feel calm."
Eddie gazed into my eyes.
"You make me feel calm, too," he said.
I smiled fully for the first time since entering his room, not bothering to disguise my jagged teeth. He smiled back at me. Our gazes slowly floated back to the ceiling.
The rain continued to beat against the window.
The Led Zeppelin record ended, and I could hear the rhythmic thump as the needle danced in the center. Neither of us moved to get up from the floor.
"You're right," Eddie's voice broke the silence. "It is nice listening to music like this."
"Thank you for playing it for me," I sighed.
"Anytime, Winnie," he replied.
I looked over at him sharply, and he met my gaze.
I squished my eyebrows together.
"Winnie?"
"Yeah!" Eddie exclaimed.
I let out a small laugh.
"Uh, nope. No one in my life calls me Winnie."
"I like it!" Eddie protested.
I shook my head.
"What, like Winnie the Pooh?"
"What's wrong with Winnie the Pooh?"
"I don't know!" I threw my hands in the air. "Would you like me to call you Eeyore?"
Eddie laughed loudly, and I shook my head at him.
"You are not going to call me Winnie!"
"Too late!" Eddie said in between laughs.
"I hate it!"
I tried to fight a bubble of giggles rising in my throat, but it was no use.
We lay together on his floor, our hands pressing into our abdomens until our fit of laughter died down.
"Friends give each other nicknames," Eddie said. "That's what they did in The Outsiders. So, yeah, I'm going to call you Winnie."
I looked over at him.
"We're friends?"
Eddie turned to gaze at me.
"Have you seen any other kids in this trailer park?" He asked.
I tilted my head. "Um... no?"
"Of course we're friends." Eddie gazed into my eyes. "I think we're going to be best friends."
I smiled and looked at the ceiling.
"Best friends? That sounds nice."
A long, shrill bell cracks through my memory.
My eyes jolt open, and my head jerks upwards. The lunch bell is ringing, signaling the end of the period. The students around me jump up from their seats and run out of the classroom door.
At some point, I had set my head down against my notebook and fell into a dream. I blink at the page; the lilac stem I had sketched is smudged and faded.
My arms stretch across my desk, and my fingertips graze the empty seat in front of me. I rub my eyes furiously and use the back of one hand to clear away a small dribble of drool from the corner of my mouth.
Well, it was a lovely nap.
Eddie doesn't have the record console in his room anymore; he's upgraded to a shiny stereo, and a stack of cassette tapes has taken the place of the tower of vinyl. As we grew up, our music tastes began to differ and divulge. I still love listening to him practice his guitar solos, and he allows me to play 1970s folk music in the van occasionally.
Eddie likes thundering guitars, screeching frontmen, and sensory overload. I gravitate toward acoustic instruments, thoughtful lyricism, and peaceful melodies.
Eddie likes his music to make him feel. I need music to help me sort through my thoughts.
I prefer his music when all of my anxieties bubble up inside of me, and I just need to release them in some grand cacophony of guitars and drums. But, most times, I just want to lie in my bed and listen to Carole King assuage my fears or have Mama Cass tell me everything will be better tomorrow.
I release a deep sigh and lean back slowly into my chair.
My eyes gaze around the classroom. Someone clears their throat, and I jump in my seat. Mrs. Friedan stands in front of the chalkboard. Her fists are pushed tightly against her hips.
I slam my notebook shut and quickly stand up from my desk. I offer Mrs. Friedan a small smile as I walk towards her; she tuts and shakes her head.
I pass her on my way to the door.
"Sorry, it was a fascinating lesson!"
"Go to lunch," she responds flatly.
I nod my head quickly and rush out of the classroom.
Out in the crowded hallway, I dodge through groups of students and fight upstream to get back to my locker. I stand in front of it and spin my combination into the padlock, but it doesn't budge.
Oh, come on! Why does it only respond to Eddie's touch?
I take my hand off of it and stretch my fingers. I pretend I am him, nonchalantly grasping the lock and spinning it gently. My tongue pokes out between my teeth in concentration, I tug on the lock, and it unlatches.
"Ha!" I yell loudly.
I collect a few textbooks and notebooks, shove them into my backpack, then sling it over my shoulder.
I shut the locker tightly, and a face appears next to me.
"Hi," the person says.
I jump quickly and lay a hand over my heart.
"Jesus, Helen! Do not sneak up on me like that."
Helen widens her eyes.
"I didn't sneak! I've been standing here this whole time."
I glance at her and then look over my shoulder at the hallway.
"Really?"
She nods her head at me.
"Um... yeah."
"Sorry," I sigh. "I'm a little out of it."
I pull my backpack tightly over my shoulders, and we walk down the hallway.
"Hey!" She skips next to me and looks over my outfit. "You look very nice today."
I glance down at my gray cardigan, faded Levi's, and scuffed converse.
"Um, Helen, I wear this basically every day."
"Oh, well, it looks different," she shrugs.
I smile a little and absentmindedly tug on the hem of my sweater. We reach the end of the hallway, Helen moves to turn left, and I begin to veer right.
"Excuse me," she calls. "Where do you think you're going?"
I spin around to face her.
"Um... to the library?"
She raises her eyebrows.
"Why? It's lunchtime. You have to sit with me next to the cheerleaders!"
I release a deep sigh. Helen has already dragged me to the cafeteria twice this week and forced me to sit with her at the end of the table that holds court for Marissa Randall and the rest of the squad. The only redeeming thing about sitting there is listening to the popular girls rattle on.
Some of the conversations they have both concern me and entrance me. It's like a car crash... I just can't look away.
Last week, Bertie Greene announced to the table that she'd added woodshop and auto mechanics to her schedule.
Why you ask?
She's trying to increase her chances of finding a prom date and thinks fumbling around power tools and pretending not to know what a carburetor does will make suitors fall at her feet. Marissa gave her a tight nod of approval, the other girls applauded, and I felt a couple of my brain cells perish.
Sometimes, the conversations take on a more scandalous tone, and the cheerleaders will lean forward as they whisper about what happened in the backseat of their boyfriend's car after the movies.
I find these conversations fascinating, while Helen tries her hardest to tune them out.
This Tuesday, Georgia Miller announced to the table that she was prepared to go all the way with her boyfriend, Chet Stanley.
Her hands shook with excitement as the cheerleaders leaned toward her.
"I think I'm finally ready!" She screeched. "He's been asking me for a while now, but I've just been so worried. So, he went to the library and found a booking about... doing it..."
She whispered "doing it" as if saying the word sex out loud would cause a portal to hell to open in the cafeteria floor.
"And Chet told me that if we... do it..."
Georgia whispered the last part again, and I shook my head.
She rushed through the rest of her announcement, "He said if we do it standing up, then I can't get pregnant!"
Her white smile beamed at the girls huddled around her.
My fork clattered against my tray, and my eyes widened. The rest of the girls began to murmur about how thoughtful Chet was. Imagine that, a boy reading a book!
I snorted loudly, and the entire table snapped their heads toward me. Helen looked at me and warned me not to say anything with her eyes, but I just couldn't help myself.
"Georgia... you know that's bullshit, right?" I said.
"No, it isn't," she replied defensively. She shuffled in her chair and looked at me harshly. "And, anyways, how would you know?"
The other girls snickered, and I pulled my head back. Well, that was uncalled for.
I tilted my head at her, trying to ignore her rude remark.
My voice lowered, and I tried to sound sympathetic, "Georgia, we're in the same biology class."
She tossed her hair behind her shoulder.
"So?"
I wanted to reach over and shake her shoulders. I looked helplessly at the other cheerleaders, but no one else seemed concerned. I was beginning to lose hope for our gender.
I sighed deeply; my patience was running thin.
I leaned towards her.
"So... your boyfriend is lying to you just because he wants to have sex with you."
The other girls gasped, and Georgia looked disturbed.
I hesitated. I could feel that the entire table wanted me to shut up, but the words poured out of me.
"Chet definitely made that up," I said. "You can get pregnant standing up, or laying down, or sideways."
The rest of the table stared at me with scandalized expressions. Helen dropped her head into her palms.
Georgia looked helplessly at me. Her eyebrows knitted, and she looked over at Marissa Randall for confirmation.
Marissa's eyes bore into mine. Her stare was even and rigid, but I could tell she wasn't pleased. I gave her a shallow shrug.
I am not letting this poor girl believe the lies her boyfriend spins so that he can get laid; what kind of feminist would that make me? The girl deserved to know the truth.
Marissa sighed deeply and reached across the table to Georgia.
She patted her hand affectionately.
"I don't think Chet would lie to you," her voice cooed, and Georgia nodded her head. "But maybe that's not exactly what he meant? Just make sure that if you do it..."
Marissa Randall whispered the phrase as well... what is wrong with these people?
"Be sure to make him wear two condoms, okay? For extra safety."
She flashed Georgia her million-dollar smile, and the girl nodded quickly.
The rest of the squad beamed at Marissa and set soothing hands on Georgia's upper back.
"Actually, that's a myth too-" I leaned forward to interject.
"That's enough, Winter," Marissa cut me off harshly.
I shrunk back into my chair, grabbed the apple off Helen's tray, and sunk my teeth into it.
I blink back to the present. Yeah... I'm not going to the cafeteria.
Helen dips her head at me.
I smile and say, "Sorry, you're on your own!"
Helen stomps one foot.
"What? You're just going to abandon me?"
"I'm sorry, but you know I tutor students in the library during lunch!" I shrug weakly. "If I don't show up, poor sweet sophomore Timmy will fail geometry. That will probably lead to him flunking out of high school, making it nearly impossible for him to find a job. And who could love dumb, sad Timmy with no diploma and no job prospects? Do you really want him to live that kind of existence, Helen?"
Helen stares at me; her mouth opens and closes. She throws her hands out at her sides.
"Well, jeez, don't make me feel responsible for Timmy's future!" She huffs.
"I don't know, Helen..." I shake my head. "This could be the first domino to fall."
"You're ridiculous," Helen sighs and crosses her arms tightly.
I smile widely in response.
"I'll see you later, okay? Have fun with the cheerleaders!"
I turn around and march towards the library.
"Great! I'll just go and be social for the both of us!" She calls at my retreating back sarcastically.
I spin around.
"Thanks, you're a star!"
I pull open the door to the library. Mr. Z, the old librarian who likes to study books about building ships in bottles, is leaning against the front counter.
I wave as I enter, and he offers me a polite smile, then pushes his glasses back up on his nose and squints closer at the drawings on the page.
At a round table near the window, I spot Timmy, the sophomore. I slap my backpack on the table, causing the boy to jump in his seat.
He looks at me through thick-rimmed glasses and quickly shuts a book he had been reading in front of him.
Hmm, that was curious.
I slowly lower into a seat across from him.
"Um... hello, Timmy," I say cautiously.
He tries to slide the book into his lap, but I reach over and pull it towards me. The book spins across the smooth table and thuds against my forearm.
"Teen Dating Guide by Marjabelle Young Stewart..." I read aloud.
Timmy swallows hard and begins to fidget with a pencil in front of him. I look up at him slowly, then back down to the book.
I flip through it quickly and scan the table of contents.
"Getting to Know Each Other, How to Handle Breaking Up..." I slowly glance up from the page. "Timmy, what are you doing with this garbage?"
I squint at him as he sits hunched in his chair; the pencil in front of him rolls anxiously between his fingers.
"It was just sitting here..." He offers the lie weakly and uses one hand to gesture around the library.
I regard him with sympathy. "What is going on at this school? Everywhere I look, someone is trying to discover the secret to relationships or offering up some horrible dating advice."
"Well..." Timmy replies. "It is almost Valentine's Day. Maybe love is just in the air?"
I shake my head and unzip my backpack.
"That's not love, Timmy. It's pheromones."
"What are pheromones?" Timmy asks. He stands up and pushes in his chair.
"Don't worry about it." I pull out my notebook. "We're here to study geometry, right?"
"Oh, yeah, sorry, Winter. I can't stay today."
Timmy presses his hands down tightly on the back of the chair and glances nervously toward the library entrance.
"What?" I slap my hand down on the table. "Why not?"
Timmy's eyes fall back on the book's cover in the center of the table. He rubs one hand along the back of his neck.
I understand now and offer him a small smile.
"Let me guess... you've got to go see about a girl?"
Timmy shrugs his shoulders.
"Kind of."
"Okay, go ahead." I point one finger at him. "But we are going to meet Monday at lunch, okay? I will not let you flunk out of geometry... or you'll never get a date."
Timmy's eyes widen, and he nods his head quickly.
"I'll be here!"
I smile and wave one hand dismissively at him.
"I'll see you later, kid."
He smiles and hurries out of the library. I watch as he slams excitedly through the front doors. Mr. Z doesn't even bother to raise his head.
I sigh to myself. I'm all alone.
But I still don't want to go to the cafeteria, so I'll sit here and get an early start on my homework.
I open the notebook in front of me to a blank page; my elbows slide on the table as I hunch over the paper. I work in comfortable silence, crafting an argumentative essay about the immorality of capital punishment.
The tip of my pencil digs into the paper, something I tend to do when I feel very passionate about whatever it is I'm writing.
A soft sound taps out next to me.
I glance over slowly and see a fist lightly knocking on the table next to my elbow. I slowly trace my eyes from the hand, which I note is ring-free, up the sleeve of a Varsity jacket, across a tanned neck, and finally land on a lopsided smile.
"Hey, there," Theodore Knight says simply.
I blink at him and sit up quickly, correcting my position from Quasimodo lounging over lined paper and pushing my spine against the back of the chair.
"Um... hey."
He smiles and pulls out a chair next to me. My eyes glance around the room and then land back on him. His elbows slide onto the table, and his palms lay flat in front of him; he offers me a sweet smile, and I raise my eyebrows.
Why is he here? Has he been here this whole time?
Theo stifles a small laugh at my lost expression.
"So, this is where you hang out?" He asks.
"How did you know I was here?" I blurt.
My voice came out sharper than I intended, but I feel caught off guard. My hands fall to my lap, and I twist my fingers together, trying to massage away the anxiety building under my skin.
Theo shifts in his seat and says, "I asked Helen where you were."
"And she just gave up my location that easily?" I scoff.
Theo laughs a little.
"Well... don't be mad at her. I might have insisted that she tell me."
I tilt my head at him, and he smiles politely.
He glances around the table, and his gaze lands on the book in the center. His face changes to a look of curiosity as he pulls the library book towards him.
He chuckles and glances up at me.
"Teen Dating Guide?"
My eyes widen.
"That's not mine. That's Timmy's."
"Timmy?" Theo lightly spins the book with his fingers. "Who is Timmy?"
"A sophomore I tutor," I sigh. "Clearly, a very sweet, confused sophomore."
My hand raises to gesture at the book.
"Really?" Theo chuckles. "Where is Timmy now?"
He leans towards me, and a tiny glint of humor flashes in his eyes. Does he not believe me?
"He left me to go hang out with a different girl," I say quickly.
Theo laughs fully now, and the sound echoes through the library.
Mr. Z snaps his head over to us, and I give Theo a warning look.
He covers his mouth and shrugs his shoulders. He sets his palm back down on the table and smiles at me.
"Well, his loss."
"I guess so," I respond, picking my hands up from my lap and leaning my elbows on the table. "I think he's just using me anyways."
Theo laughs again, and I smile at him.
"You know, you're a very hard woman to track down," he says and leans back in his chair.
His energy rolls with easy confidence, and he has no problem staring directly into my eyes when he speaks.
He makes me nervous, and I continue to blurt out words without thinking.
"Maybe you're just not a very good tracker."
He raises his eyebrows in offense, and I squish up my nose.
"Sorry," I apologize softly—his face cracks into a self-assured grin.
"Well, you don't go to the diner. You don't eat in the cafeteria. You aren't in any of my classes..." He tilts his head and squints his eyes. "You're like a ghost. You, Winter Reid, are an enigma."
I nod my head and look down.
I realize he's trying to be cute, but I'm not sure why he wanted to find me in the library.
Was it because he wanted to see me, or was it simply because finding me was a challenge?
The door to the library swings open. My head jerks up at the sound.
Eddie Munson catches my eye and walks over to the table. My heart is beating quickly in my chest, but I can't tell if that's from Theo's sudden appearance or Eddie's.
Eddie smiles widely at me, then his head slowly drops, and he notices Theo sitting across from me. The smile slides off his face.
Oh boy, this is going to be awkward.
Theo still looks at me, but my eyes are fixed on the boy standing behind him. Eddie stops and tilts his head at me.
I wiggle in my seat.
"Hi, Eddie."
Eddie smiles softly at me, and I feel my heartbeat slow down. I feel more comfortable now that he is here. He is familiar to me, and I was starting to feel anxious, sitting here and feeling exposed under Theo's stare as I sputtered and failed to respond to his flirting like a normal teenage girl.
Theo turns around and looks up at Eddie; then his head slowly turns back to me. He is utterly perplexed, but he doesn't look upset.
Eddie looks slowly at the back of Theo's head; he gazes back up at me and squints his eyes.
"What do you need, Eddie?" I ask quickly.
I don't feel comfortable with both of them in the same space. Theo turns around to watch Eddie's reaction.
"Well..." Eddie says, refusing to make eye contact with Theo. "I just wanted to find you because I can't give you a ride home after the game tonight."
My hand lightly slaps against the table.
"What?" I ask. "Why not?"
I know he has Hellfire Club tonight in the school drama room, and it always wraps up right around the end of the game. But... he can't drive me home?
"I've got a pressing engagement," Eddie says cryptically.
I shake my head at him.
"Eddie! What am I supposed to do, walk home?"
I only have two friends, and apparently, this one is too busy, and Helen still needs to get her license.
Eddie shrugs his shoulders.
"I can drive you home," Theo speaks up.
Eddie lets out a short scoff.
I look at Theo quickly. "No, no. That's okay."
"Yeah, she'll be fine, man," Eddie mutters and crosses his arms over his chest.
I don't like how dismissive Eddie sounds. I don't want Theo to give me a ride home and see where I live, but I don't seem to have any other options.
I tilt my head at Eddie. He squints his eyes at me, sensing a challenge.
"You know what?" My mouth turns up into a sweet smile. "That's okay, Eddie. I'll find another ride."
"Really, it's no problem-" Theo tries to interject.
"Wonderful," Eddie interrupts and smiles back at me widely. "I'll see you after school."
Theo looks over his shoulder one last time. Eddie drops his gaze; he and Theo stare at each other for a long, tense moment.
I hold my breath and wait for Eddie to say something embarrassing or rude. Whenever he's had run-ins with jocks before, it's never been friendly.
My eyes snap from Eddie to Theo and back again. A small smirk spread across Eddie's face, and his eyes drift back to mine.
I mouth at him, go away, and he holds up his hands. Theo looks back at me, and I rearrange my face into a polite smile.
"Bye, Winnie," Eddie says, and I stare at his back as he strides out of the library.
I breathe a sigh of relief and close the notebook in front of me. I slide it gently back into my backpack and zip it closed.
Theo stares at me, and I slowly look up at him.
He clears his throat.
"So... you know Eddie Munson? That adds another layer of mystery."
"Um, no mystery there. We're friends."
"Friends?" Theo tries to hide his shock but fails.
"Yes..." I lean toward him, wanting to gauge his reaction. "Best friends."
"Oh." Theo looks confused but nods his head. "Well, that's cool."
I bite back a sarcastic smile.
"Cool?" I repeat. "Theo, I know your friends hate him. And, I guess me, by association."
I suddenly feel defensive. Theo looks down, he seems embarrassed, and I almost feel bad.
His dark eyes grow sincere as he looks back at me and leans closer.
"I don't judge people," he says softly.
I sputter out a laugh, and Theo furrows his eyebrows.
I give him a flat look. "Really?"
Theo's hand slides across the table; his fingers stretch out closer to mine. I want to yank my hand away, but I feel frozen.
"I mean it... I'm not like my friends."
I tilt my head. I shouldn't believe him.
I scan his face for the telltale signs of dishonesty. But his hands don't shake; they lay firm and strong against the table. His mouth isn't pulled into a smirk; it's soft and relaxed. His dark eyes bore into mine, and he doesn't look away.
I feel myself leaning closer. My fingers move towards his, and our skin brushes.
"Okay," I whisper. "Prove it."
Theo looks at me, his eyes drop to my lips, and he swallows hard.
Oh, shit, that's not what I meant.
I clear my throat, and his eyes jump back up to mine.
"Tell me something nerdy thing about yourself," I blurt.
Theo blinks, and his eyebrows knit together.
"What?" He looks completely caught off guard.
"You heard me." I smile. "Tell me something about yourself that is horribly and devastatingly nerdy."
He sputters. This is the first time I've seen him flustered; it's pretty cute. I feel his hand slide next to mine on the table, and his fingers brush against the back of my hand.
Is he trying to distract me? I tug my hand away and raise my eyebrows.
He drops his head and lets out a deep sigh.
"Oh god... um... I don't know."
I sigh and sit back in my chair. I reach for my backpack, and Theo raises one hand quickly.
"Okay, okay," he gives in. "I love Star Wars."
I shrug, unimpressed.
"Yeah, so do I."
"I'm sorry, that's not enough for you?" He asks, sounding perplexed.
I shake my head. I have to push my lips together and try to look serious, but I like watching him squirm.
"You want to drive me home after the game?" I ask.
Theo looks at me intensely. "Yes, very much so."
I feel a small flutter in my lower abdomen. I try to force it away, my arms fold across the table, and I lean forward. My locket swings out in front of my chest, and I catch Theo glancing down quickly at my cleavage and then back up to my eyes. The flutter returns.
Is this what Patti was telling me about? The feeling when you know someone wants you?
I feel a little drunk on power.
I dip my chin and look up at him with innocent eyes.
"Tell me something nerdy, Theo."
He swallows hard. "I keep a lightsaber next to my bed, and I can recite the entire Star Wars Holiday Special from memory."
I blink at him. "Do you keep the lightsaber by your bed for protection?"
Theo nods. "Yeah."
I feel my lips begin to pull upwards, and I try to purse them together, but a wide grin spreads across my face. Theo returns it. I realize now that we've leaned so close to speak that our faces are mere inches apart. Theo glances down at my lips, and my heart thuds in my chest.
A bell rings out.
Theo looks up at the noise, and I jerk backward in my chair. I grasp my locket tightly and focus on the cool metal at the center of my palm.
I turn my head away from Theo, trying to conceal my blush, and pull my backpack towards me.
We both stand up, and I move to walk away from him.
"Wait!" He says. "Did I pass?"
I tilt my head at him.
Theo looks at me expectantly. "Was my confession nerdy enough?"
"Oh!" I say. "Right. Yes... you passed."
He smiles. "So, I'll give you a ride home after the game?"
My face falls, and I look down at my shoes. I had forgotten about that end of the deal.
"Okay..." I reply hesitantly. I force a smile and look back at him.
"Okay, cool." He nods his head.
I give him a soft wave goodbye and turn around quickly. I push through the library door into the hallway. A new bubble of anxiety grows in my stomach, and I pull my locket obsessively; the chain slides harshly across my neck.
"Careful, or you'll saw your head off," a voice outside the library calls.
"Jesus!" I spin and see Eddie leaning up against the wall. I push one hand against my pounding heart. "What is with everyone sneaking up on me today?"
Eddie smiles at me and glances down at my death grip around my necklace.
"You okay, kid?"
I look back at the library door. Theo has yet to come out. I turn and start walking down the hallway; Eddie matches my stride.
"Yeah, I'm fine," I mutter and drop my necklace against my chest.
My hand flies up and punches Eddie's shoulder.
"Ouch!" He yelps. "What was that for?"
"You can't give me a ride after the game?" I raise my eyebrows at him.
"I won't always be around to give you rides," he says and throws his hands out casually.
"I know, but..." I trail off.
"Is he going to give you a ride home?" Eddie asks.
"I guess so," I reply softly.
"Well... I think I accidentally wing-manned you then." Eddie smiles a little and looks down at his shoes. "Just make sure he doesn't try any funny business on the way home."
I turn my head towards him.
"How am I supposed to make sure he doesn't do that?"
"I don't know. Don't do anything... " He struggles to find a word.
I raise my eyebrows at him.
He looks over at me and finally says, "Cute. Don't be cute."
"Okay," I scoff. "I'll try my best."
Eddie looks over at me, and I wrap my arms around my abdomen. I glance up at him, he looks thoughtful, and any trace of a smile has disappeared from his face. I can't read his expression, so I make a choice to breeze past it.
"So, are you going to tell me what your secret engagement is?" I ask.
He looks ahead and doesn't reply.
I scrunch my eyebrows together. Why is he being so weird? Well, weirder than usual.
"Dustin mentioned you couldn't do DnD last night? And now you have somewhere else to be after the game? What is it?"
My questions tumble out. I hate not knowing things. I'm used to knowing pretty much everything about Eddie, too many things, honestly, but that's better than whatever this mystery is.
A small smirk forms on his face, and he looks down at me and then back up to the crowd of students walking ahead of us in the hallway.
"Oh, come on! What is it? Underground fight club? Youth group? Ghost hunting?"
I'm walking sideways and pleading with him to respond.
His smirk grows, and a row of dimples etch into his cheeks.
"You got me... I started going to youth group. I have found Jesus."
I place both hands on his forearm and lightly shake his arm.
"Why are you hiding things from me?" I plead.
"I am not hiding anything, Winnie!" He pulls away from my grasp. "Is a man not allowed his secrets?"
I respond with a vexed huff and look down the hallway.
I don't want to be annoyed by this, but I am. Maybe it is good to have a few things we can keep to ourselves, but I have a nagging feeling in my gut that I should know what he is up to.
"Fine," I say flatly. We stop in front of Eddie's classroom, and I cross my arms in front of my chest. "You can have your double life... reading slam poetry at some dive bar or taking cooking classes, whatever freaky thing you're up to."
I look down at my sneakers.
Eddie bends his knees to meet my eyes and gives me a sarcastic grin.
"Your support means the world," he teases.
I roll my eyes at him.
"Well, while you're doing whatever you are doing tonight..." I say. "I guess I will be accepting a ride home from Theodore Knight, which is not a sentence I ever thought I would say."
Eddie's smirk fades, and he nods his head.
"Guess we've both got big plans then," he says absently.
Why is he being so hot and cold? So he won't tell me about his plans, fine. But every time I mention Theo, he seems irritated, even though he's the one forcing me to turn to him for carpool services.
"Right," I respond. "Well, I've gotta go to class. See you after school, freak."
Eddie grins at me. "Right back at you."
He pulls open the door to the classroom and wanders inside.
I merge back into the hallway and begin sliding my locket on the chain. More anxiety rolls in my stomach, but I can't figure out exactly where it's coming from. I sigh and keep walking, eventually vanishing into the crowd of high school students.