Chapter 3
Will's heart could not have sunk any lower than it had the moment Halt crossed his vision. Halt was normally the last person to know anything about Will. But in this case, there was no way that Halt could have been much later about the knowledge of Will's love for Alyss. He stood there, his eyes staring almost emotionlessly, but dreamily at Will.
"Listen Halt," Will began, using his hands to aid him as he talked. "Any other girl, I would let you have, but please, I beg you…..please don't turn this into a contest." Halt's mouth twisted itself into what looked like a maniacal smile. The sight of this made his skin crawl.
"Why? Is famous Will Treaty afraid that his reputation as the 'Heartbreak Kid' will crumble?" Halt asked wistfully. "You don't know Alyss like I do." Will wished that he didn't have to swallow the fact that Halt was correct. Halt had spent much more time around her than Will. Will didn't really care about being called the 'Heartbreak kid', but he preferred not to be called that around Alyss or while talking about her.
"Halt, please I beg of you," Will plead. Halt raised his eyebrow at him as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "I don't care about being the 'Heartbreak kid'; I just want to be with Alyss and nobody else." Halt laughed slightly.
"I see," he replied plainly. "So you've finally developed a heart?" Will stared at Halt rather reproachfully; wondering how he was going to respond.
"Yes, I've finally developed a heart," Will remarked sarcastically. "Halt, the other girls mean nothing to me. The only girl I have ever truly wanted was Alyss and I would do anything to be with her." Halt raised his eyebrows.
"Anything?" he asked testily. Will's heartbeat accelerated nervously; he didn't like where this was going. Halt seemed to be amused by what he was hearing. "So, Will Treaty, hero of Meadow Ridge, has finally been brought to his knees, begging, pleading at Alyss' feet, craving her love." This is exactly why Will often avoided Halt. He gulped; he knew Halt had something devious planned for him. Before either of them could say something else, Horace burst out from the locker room, pumped.
"Will, good news! We're playing football today!" Horace announced. Will and Halt made no acknowledgement. Horace's eyes fell upon Halt. "What does he have planned this time?" Halt sneered.
"You're hard to fool," he remarked. He then turned back to Will. "Will, if you would do anything for her, what say we make this interesting?" Will gulped at the sound of this.
"Why should I do what you say?" he demanded.
"Because Alyss though she's the smartest girl in the grade, is completely oblivious to your obvious love for her," Halt explained. His mouth twisted into a tricky smile. "However, that all can change in a heartbeat." Will felt his heart give a distressed lurch.
"How interesting are you talking about?" Will asked him.
"Whichever one of us wins her heart over, gets to date her," Halt told him. Will felt an icy chill race down his spine. He had never beaten Halt in this type of contest, but then again, Halt had never beaten Will either. The image of Halt holding hands with Alyss flashed through his mind. He felt horrified; two years of admiration that might bring him darkness that only he would ever come to know. But then again, it motivated him, pressuring him desperately to talk to Alyss. The rest of the period despite the fact that they were playing Football, seemed long, never-ending, tedious, and boring. After Will and Horace showered and changed, the bell rang. Horace looked at Will who was still shaken up after his confrontation with Halt.
"You nervous?" Horace asked him. Will shot a look at Horace, one filled with displeasure and disbelief.
"No Horace, I'm just shivering because I'm cold," Will snapped. Horace looked away from him, searching for a new topic. Unfortunately, there was none available.
"How do you expect to beat Halt?" Horace asked him. "Halt's shy of no girl." Again, Will shot Horace a reproachful look.
"Thank you Horace," he remarked. "I don't know how, he's known her a whole lot longer than I have."
"Not to mention Alyss knows you're the 'Heartbreak kid'," Horace added.
"Will everybody stop calling me that?" Will demanded angrily. "I'm tired of being called that, I hate that name!" Horace remained silent.
"Sorry," Horace apologized. "You've just got to get over your shyness for her."
"Don't you think I realize that?" Will asked him obviously. "Problem is a shy guy can't win over a guy who isn't shy." A thought passed through Horace's mind. He too, knew Alyss, but not as long as Halt had. Horace had been partnered with Alyss for a literature project in eight grade; they had written numerous poems at Alyss' request due to her love for them.
"I got it!" Horace announced. Will looked at him. "Remember how down you were when Evelyn dumped you in seventh grade?"
"What does that have to do with my situation?" Will demanded.
"Hear me out," Horace told him. "You had written her a love poem to win her heart back." Will recalled the poem; it was unsuccessful, but Evelyn did say that it was the sweetest thing that any guy had ever done for her.
"That was a complete failure and you know that," Will said.
"With Evelyn it was," Horace pointed out. "Alyss has a total love for poetry and you have Creative Writing right now right?" Will nodded.
"We're learning about poetry too," Will informed him.
"Write her one," Horace suggested. "Write her one that will even rival the likes of…..damn, what's a name of a good romantic poet?" Will pondered for a few seconds.
"Emily Dickinson," Will suggested.
"Right!" Horace spat with enthusiasm. Will stepped back a couple feet. "Write her a poem that could rival the best of Emily Dickinson!" Will laughed and bade Horace goodbye. He then proceeded to his class. In all honesty, in was more like a staircase combined with a classroom. They sat staring down at the board. Will's desk, or round table was at the very front like always. He thought about what he was to write.
Write her a poem that could rival the best of Emily Dickinson. Those words repeated themselves in Will's mind, annoying him greatly. He dropped his book bag at the side of the table and took out his notebook. The bell rang as the class took their seats, their pens and pencils ready for any writing that awaited them. Mr. Rodney, a short, stout man walked into the classroom and greeted the class brightly.
"I'm very much pleased that you show great enthusiasm for the art of writing!" he said blithely. Will leaned over across the table towards his partner.
"I'm pleased that he hasn't tried to make a move on any one of us yet," Will joked. Those who were eavesdropping laughed softly. Mr. Rodney continued on with his speech.
"I have read all your poems from yesterday and I must say that they were all delightful!" he continued on. "Today, you will be writing a Figurative Language poem!"
"What's that?" someone asked from the back of the room.
"It is a poem filled with figurative language, like similes, metaphors, and hyperboles," he explained. He then turned and lit a candle. As it burned, a sweet aroma that smelled like rain combined with the smell of pine filled the air. Will inhaled deeply, the aroma taking control of his mind. "Any poet, no matter how great they are, is capable of writing a poem of this stature of an aroma like this." Will leaned his head on his hand, crawling on the words of Mr. Rodney's long, droning speech. At last, Mr. Rodney had finally said: "You are free to begin writing now." Will opened his notebook and thought long and hard about what he wanted to write. Of course he would have to make a copy of it somehow to give to Alyss. He closed his eyes, thinking of the smell of the candle, how sweet it smelled. He then thought about Alyss and how sweet the feeling would be to hold her hand, to hold her in his arms. He felt a smile on his face and his hand writing on the paper as if he no longer had control. Already, he had written both sides of the page. He restarted on a fresh sheet, emotions pouring from his mind and onto the paper. As he scratched the last word, the bell rang and everyone groaned in displeasure.
"No need to worry, I will give you time at the start of class to finish your poems," he announced. He held out his hand towards the door, beckoning them all to leave. Vance closed his notebook hurriedly and rushed out of class, desperate to get to his friends before the lunch rush overwhelmed him. He found Horace, George, Cassandra, Jenny, and Crowley just outside the cafeteria doors, talking frantically. Jenny was the first to take notice of him.
"Will!" she shouted, dashing up to him. "You can't be serious! You and Halt! That's…it's….it's just not right! You're seriously not going to do this are you?" Will would've given anything in the world, except for Football, to say that he wasn't. But of course, he couldn't.
"I have to," Will said depressingly. "Halt threatened to tell Alyss of my huge crush on her." They walked towards the group, discussing Will's situation.
"But it's kind of obvious isn't it?" Crowley asked Will. "You've liked her for two years and every time you've tried to talk to her, you've stuttered."
"Yeah, but according to Halt, she doesn't know how I feel about her," Will told them. Horace and the rest of the group groaned in unison.
"Will, you've known Halt long enough that he loves to toy with your mind," Cassandra scolded. "He tries to make you lower your guard, shift favor to his side." They got their lunch and sat down at a table closest to the doors.
"But what if Halt isn't lying?" Will asked. "The whole thing could crumble and he'll still win." Horace coughed nonchalantly. Will heard the word 'poem' come out of his mouth. Jenny, Cassandra, George, and Crowley looked at him and then back at Will.
"Did you forget about what I told you?" Horace asked Will.
"What did you tell him?" Cassandra demanded. "Horace, you could cost Will Alyss' heart!" Horace's eyes glowed brighter.
"Ah but there is something about her that Will could exploit," Horace said wistfully. Crowley looked at Horace strangely.
"You're beginning to sound like Halt," he remarked.
"Hold on, Crowley, what can Will exploit?" George asked Horace.
"Remember the literature project I got paired with her on in eighth grade?" Horace began. Everyone nodded their heads; they recalled how ridiculous Horace sounded reciting a poem that had clearly been written by Alyss. "Well, she is in love with poetry and I suggested to Will that he write her a nice poem.
"Those were not the words you told me though," Will argued. "You said to write a romantic poem so good that it could rival the best of Emily Dickinson." Horace swiped his hand in the air as if he were swinging at a bug.
"Same thing," he argued. "My point is that Will could win her over easily if he did that."
"But Will is still extremely shy around her," Jenny pointed out. "Writing a love poem is kind of useless if you don't have the guts to give it to her." Cassandra nodded in agreement. George and Crowley were whispering off to the side. Cassandra regarded them.
"What are you two talking about?" she asked them. They looked up, mischievous expressions on their faces.
"What if Will wasn't shy around her?" George suggested. Jenny groaned and put her hand in his face.
"George, enough with the 'Defearinator' idea," Jenny said exasperated. She recalled the first time that Will had told them he was shy around Alyss. George had mentioned a false invention that could make Will 'un-shy'.
"No not that!" George argued. "Will just needs practice." He looked around the cafeteria as if scouting a battlefield. Horace and Will regarded him, confused and strange expressions visible on their face. George pointed off in the distance at a short blonde girl with blue eyes. She wore a purple shirt with blue jeans, pink and white striped socks, and fur slippers. "Go talk to Ashley, pretend she's Alyss."
"That is the dumbest idea I have ever heard," Will remarked. Jenny and Cassandra agreed with him.
"George you do know that Ashley's had a thing for Will since second grade right?" Cassandra reminded him. "If Will goes to talk to her, then the whole thing could turn around and bite him." George comprehended her statement. His ears went pink.
"Well excuse me if I go talk to her," George said slyly, standing up from the table and walking over to Ashley. Crowley shook his head.
"It's amazing he can tell the bathrooms apart," Crowley remarked. Everyone laughed. "But George's idea isn't entirely wrong. Practice talking to her, that'll make it so much easier to give her the poem." Will pondered on it for a moment.
"How do I 'practice' talking to her?" Will asked him. Horace shrugged.
"Talk to a mirror?" Horace suggested. Will shook his head and turned away. He felt a tap on his shoulder; Will turned to find Cassandra staring at him expectantly.
"What?" he asked her. Cassandra said nothing; instead she pointed behind her. Will turned again and at that moment, he felt his breathing cease and his heartbeat stopped.