AN: This chapter is a little slower than the last two, but I wanted to draw out the interaction between Virginia and Ben. This isn't an instantaneous romance. I hope you enjoy and continue to follow the story (I'm sorry this chapter took so long to post.)
Chapter III.
At the sight of her face, I instantaneously recalled where I had first seen her: January, the team had staged a mock debate in an attempt to recruit students; the demonstration was mandatory for all Greensboro students to attend, and had replaced the scheduled seventh period time slot for that day. I remembered, vividly, the unassuming silence we sat in before the demonstration began, and how that silence was abruptly broken by this girl's ferociously rapid, precise, and confident words. Her intensity had produced a rare feeling for me: awe…
These thoughts processed through my mind as I stared back at her; her hand still extended in the air towards me.
Realizing the blank expression on my face, my mind quickly returned to the present moment as I met Virginia's hand and shook it.
"Nice to meet you too, thank you for lending me your time today," I said, trying to express a friendly smile.
"Virginia," Mrs. Ayers said, turning to the girl, "Why don't you take Ben down the hall to my office so you two can talk somewhere quieter."
Mrs. Ayers, then, directed her gaze towards me, and lightly placed her hand on my shoulder, "And If you have any more questions for me afterwards Mr. Heasley, I'll be in here," she said, squinting her eyes and smiling at me, as if there were some inside joke between us.
I gave her a smile and a quick nod as she began to sit back down within her seat, redirecting her attention to the debate group.
"Come on," Virginia said, as she tilted her head towards the side-exit. She promptly turned and led the way as I followed behind her. Her walk was focused and self-assured: head up, eyes looking forward, and brisk moving legs. She walked with this energy that exuded confidence and authority, as though this were all a procedure she had done before. It was intimidating. We left the auditorium and entered the hall; she, then, turned to her right and briskly strode towards end of the corridor as I trailed. I examined her clothes as we walked: gray knit sweater with a white button-up collared shirt underneath and jeans.
We stopped in front of a brown door whereupon she pulled a key from her pocket. I could feel my nerves building as the interview approached, more so than normal.
"Actually.."
She paused before inserting the metal object into the bolt.
"Come on, let's do this interview outside," she said as she retracted and returned the small bronze key to her pocket.
The request caught me off guard; the already peculiarity of the situation and my own natural apprehension in these situations had me on edge. I, however, followed and refrained from asking questions as she prudently swiveled and led me to the exit.
"It's always deserted out there after school, plus there's benches we can sit at," she said, turning her head so I could see the profile of her face as she talked.
"No problem," I said, trying to mask my nervousness maintain a tone of politeness.
We arrived at the double-doored exit; she turned and propped the doorway open with her body.
"After you," she said, motioning for me to pass. I gave her a reluctant smile and a modest, "Thanks," as I exited- she followed close behind me.
"This way," she directed while walking past me. We contoured the edges of the school building until we reached a secluded area with benches. I felt anxious, I knew I would have to start the interview soon, but I also felt oddly giddy at the thought of being led to this remote portion of Greensboro by this girl. This strangely attractive girl…
I followed her cues, sat next to her and scrambled to assemble my notes, flipping through my various doodle-filled notebook pages to find Virginia's interview questions.
"Do you mind if I smoke?" she asked, taking a metal tin from her back pocket.
The question, again, caught me off guard.
I watched as she unlatched and plucked a hand-rolled cigarette from the container.
"Don't worry, I doubt 90 percent of the faculty even know this part of the school exists."
I redirected my attention back to my notebook and anxiously resumed leafing through the pages, "No, no, that's cool. Go ahead."
She lit her cigarette and began to drag on the tobacco; while I searched for the questions I had so painstakingly created.
"Here they are," I said, finally finding the list.
1. Thank the interviewee for agreeing to meet
"Before we start, I just want to say thank you for lending me your time," I said, turning towards her, nervously, trying to appear polite.
She exhaled a film of smoke.
"According to Coach Ayers, I'm obligated. But, you're welcome. Fire away," she replied.
I cleared my throat and proceeded down the list.
"What is your name and how do you spell it?"
"Virginia Ryerson, R-Y-E-R-S-O-N. I trust you know how to spell Virginia.. You can call me, Ginny, though."
"Ginny..." The name resurfaced from my subconscious; I felt a surreal chill pass over me.
I scribbled the name, barely legibly, as she had spelled it.
"What grade are you in?"
"I'm a senior," she replied
"Senior," I jotted.
"How are you feeling about the upcoming debate versus Sommerville this weekend?"
"I feel prepared," she answered briefly, moving the edge of the cigarette to her lips and inhaling.
"Are you feeling nervous at all?"
"No," she let out a long exhale of smoke and flicked ashen tobacco to the ground, "My team and I have an edge; we're more experienced. Research can only help you so much; being able to use that information to successfully persuade the audience and counter the opposition is crucial. You can only get better at that through experience."
I nodded as she replied; my eyes fixated upon my notebook where I hurriedly transcribed her words as best as possible. She spoke quickly and decisively, making her response difficult to maintain pace with. Thoughts were also buzzing like white noise throughout my mind so that I could only half-hear the words she said.
"What made you want to be a part of the debate team?" I asked.
"I was tired of the world telling me what was possible and I decided to figure it out for myself.. More specifically, this idiot named, 'Ravi,' who was somehow the undefeated best individual speaker for three years in a row, would unrelentingly proclaim that all women are naturally mentally inferior to men."
I ardently scrawled in my notebook trying, messily, to recreate her words.
"I dethroned him a year later when I won best speaker…" she tapered off as she raised the tobacco, again, to her mouth and pulled the smoke into her lungs.
The sound of intense pen scratching against my notebook paper filled the air between us.
"…Can that last part be off-the-record? Obviously that boy was mentally handicapped, but I don't want that going in the paper," she stated.
I diligently and repeatedly crossed over the last few lines of notes until they were illegible.
"Thanks," she muttered.
I shook my head and crinkled my chin, "Not at all.. But, for future reference, you're supposed to announce you want something off-the-record before you say it."
"I'll remember that… Ben, right?"
"Yeah," I replied.
"What grade are you in, Ben?"
I felt the line of questioning shift upon me; I felt my nervousness returning.
"Tenth," I answered.
"I'm going to ask you a question. What do you think about marriage?"
The question baffled me. "Well.. I mean.."
"Just, in general. Do you think it's a good idea? Do you want to be married someday?"
"… Well, yeah. I don't think about it a lot, not at this age, but I would like someone to share my life with."
She shook her head, cigarette still burning in-hand, "I think it's honestly the most ridiculous thing that has ever been invented."
She lightly flicked the end of her cigarette to dissolve the accumulated ash.
"The basis of marriage is unconditional love, but unconditional love is unrealistic. Everything in this world has conditions, and love is not an exception. That's why marriages end in divorce. Why even make the promise if we can't keep it? It's doomed from the start."
"You don't think marriages can work?"
"If you want to live a lie they can."
The sound of footsteps could be heard approaching.
"Ginny!" a blonde girl with braids dressed in a floor length skirt approached.
I jumped and shifted uncomfortably within my seat. "She's still holding her cigarette…"
"It's okay, it's just Crystal," Ginny disclosed to me.
"We need you back in the auditorium, the coach insisted that you be the opening affirmative this round," the braided girl said.
Ginny dropped what was left of her cigarette onto ground and squished the ember under her shoe. She then took the pen from my hand, scratched something into my notebook, and handed the utensil back to me.
"That's my cell phone number," Ginny said as she rose from the bench, "you can contact me to get the rest of your answers."
The two girls started back towards debate practice.
I looked down at the paper:
"(609) 728 – 5708"