I have no choice but to tell my parents the truth. Where I'll be tonight, and who I'll be with. They're not happy. They yell and curse inside our tight walls. They say harsh words of bad acts I'm going to put myself in.
I tell them Mr. Cullen will be there. They don't care, though their words become less and less. Roaring lions become mewling kittens. I convince them nothing will happen. It's only an hour away. It's only a baseball game. I'm expected to go. I have responsibilities. Dad gives me pepper spray. I tuck it away.
I pass the day. Third period is the climax until the afternoon, when we board a small school bus. I sit with Edward in the front. The equipment behind us. The boys behind the equipment and whichever things need apply. We bump in unison through the paved forests and hills to our destination. Quiet rests between us. Candy Crush flies under his fingertips on his phone. I listen to my iPod. Lotus Flower over and over again. I never tire of it's melodic words.
I glance into his lap. He's on level fifty-four. He plays it a few times, out of lives, then quits and hides the phone in his jeans. Fingertips scratch needlessly at his scalp, taking product-induced hair into all directions. My insides quiver and I see he's looking at my iPod. I pull the earbud closest to him when I see his lips part.
"What do you listen to on that?"
"Everything."
"Justin Bieber?"
"I should move to another seat for that."
He laughs. "I'm just kidding. No really. I'm curious. You have it all the time."
My teeth grasp at my lower lip. I offer him an earbud in the second chorus of my new favorite song. He plugs in. Our heads almost touch and we listen to my shuffle between a thousand for the remaining thirty minutes. His fingers drum on his lap or strum the space in front in perfect succession. He mouths the words, feeling them to the core. Bites his lip. Forgets I'm there. I nod my head. Reserved. Fixated. Studying the cologned sweet sharp of the air as he moves. Flickering silently while the god of air guitar wails beside me.