Whoever thought scheduling a Physics class for first period on a Monday is clearly sadistic. I enjoy Physics, I do, but not at 8AM, and although we’re only into the fourth week of the semester, I already regret opting to take honors. Phrases like “static equilibrium” should not be used this early, when half the class is too tired to function.
I’m hunched over my desk, my head resting on my homework that Will rushed to copy this morning in the parking lot. I don’t know why he struggled with it in the first place. He’s a lot smarter than I’ll ever be, and between us and Holden, he’s the only one planning to actually leave Colorado for college. Holden and I will most likely end up at Colorado State, whereas Will’s parents have the money to send him as far away from Windsor as he likes. Sometimes, I wish I could leave too.
I open my eyes but don’t lift my head. At the desk next to me, Kailee Tucker has one hand in her lap, texting, the other hand taking notes, though I don’t think she’s even writing anything legible. Just beyond her, Will is chewing on the end of his pen, his head cocked to one side as he listens intently to Mr. Acker ramble on about the application of Newton’s laws of motion once again. My lips curve into a small smile of their own accord as I watch the way his eyebrows gently pinch together with confusion every time Mr. Acker uses a term that’s new. It feels like my stare has been boring into him for at least ten minutes before he finally notices.
“What the hell?” he mouths, pointing to the screen at the front of the room. I shrug back at him, because for the past thirty minutes I haven’t exactly been listening. He sets his pen down as though he’s giving up too, and he flicks his hair out of his eyes for what must be the hundredth time already this morning.
I remember back in freshman year, no one believed Will was just my friend, the same way they didn’t believe Holden was either. I had to be dating one of them, people would argue. Will was cute in that messy-haired, always-grinning, good-sense-of-humor sort of way, while Holden was tall and athletic in the intimidating, brooding, hot sort of way. Two polar opposites, which surely must have meant that one of them was my type. Only no, they were my best friends, and the thought of seeing them as anything other than that was hilarious to me. Also, Will subtly announced over lunch one day back in sophomore year that he sort of batted for the other team, so that was that, and the possibility of us ever dating was finally ruled out for good.
Right then, the bell rings out across campus, jolting the class to life. I hadn’t even realized that first period was almost over. There’s the collective sound of chairs scuffing the carpet as everyone scrambles to gather up their books and make a swift departure.
“I’m pretty sure I slept through the first half of that,” I tell Will once we’re outside of Mr. Acker’s class and heading to our lockers, skillfully maneuvering our way through the masses, dodging the new, wide-eyed freshmen.
When we reach my locker Holden is already leaning against it, empty-handed, with nothing but a pen behind his ear. He’s one of those guys who likes to act as though he couldn’t care less about school, like it’s lame to be caught carrying a textbook, but in fact, he cares a lot more about passing his classes than he’s willing to admit. He actually wants people to think the only thing he cares about is football, and I’ll never know why.
“How was Physics?” He grins, stepping away from my locker to allow me to enter my combination. As I throw my textbook inside, I fire him a sideways look. Holden knows we hate having Physics first period, which is why neither Will nor I even bother to answer him.
I grab my Spanish book and slam my locker shut again. “I’ve got an off period last thing,” I tell them, “so I’m just gonna head home after third period.”
“And I have practice,” Holden adds, looking at Will, because what we’re really stating is that we don’t need him to wait up for us after school to give us a ride.
Will opens his mouth wide in mock surprise. “Hold up. You mean I can actually go straight home tonight without being chauffeur to you guys? What did I do to deserve such luxury?”
We stop quickly at Will’s locker so that he can grab his Biology textbook before the three of us split up to head for our next classes. I only have to suffer through an hour and a half of Spanish until I get to see them again at lunch, but as I make my way to class on my own, applying lip balm on the way, I suddenly dread the thought of walking into the room. Holden and Will may not share this class with me, but someone else does.
When I arrive outside Miss Hernandez’s room, I slip into the class after Caleb from the football team, hiding behind his huge mass as I quickly scour the room. To my relief, Danielle Hunter hasn’t arrived yet. I’m still a little wary after our exchange last night, so I end up sitting at a desk in the back corner, head down, staring obsessively at a random page in my textbook.
The bell rings a few moments later and I glance up, startled. Just as the shrill ends, in she walks, hugging her Spanish book to her chest. Her bangs are covering her eyes and I wonder if she can even see through them, but as the class quickly settles down, she weaves through the desks to take a seat at hers over in the opposite back corner. I’m staring at her without realizing, right until the second her blue eyes flicker up to look straight back at me.
I look away instantly and I almost knock my water bottle off my desk, but I catch it just in time. Miss Hernandez gets up from her desk to welcome us and ask how our weekend was in Spanish, but I’m staring at the back of Caleb’s head, too distracted to listen to anything else she says after that. I can feel the throbbing of my pulse just below my jaw as I try my hardest to ignore Danielle’s eyes on me, but it is impossible. It’s too awkward and her stare is boring into me. I can feel it.
I hate that I am terrified of the Hunters. Usually, I’m not so weak. Over the years, I’ve faced up to a lot of people in this school, from the guys in freshman year who used to taunt me about my height, to the teachers who’ve graded my tests wrong and were adamant they didn’t, to the girls I’ve found myself in arguments with. But when it comes to Danielle and Jaden Hunter, I just can’t do it. I can’t face them. They are the epitome of my biggest weakness; they are the embodiment of grief.
For the rest of class, I can’t focus. I’m pretty good at Spanish and I enjoy Miss Hernandez’s class usually, but everything she says today goes straight over my head because all I can think about is Danielle. At first, I linger on the idea of trying to talk to her after class, but I don’t think there’s anything I can say that’ll smooth out the tension I’m feeling between us after last night, so I drop that idea and instead spend the rest of class wondering if she’s told Jaden that we spoke. I haven’t yet figured out if I hope she didn’t or if I wish she did.
When the bell rings out again to signify the end of second period, I’m the first to stand, shoving everything into my bag as fast as I can and pushing past Caleb, my eye on the door, my heart pounding. I have English Lit after lunch, and then I’m homebound after that, so I should be in the clear.
And I’m almost there, almost out of the classroom door, so close that I can smell the sweat in the hallways, when someone gently barges past me from behind, nudging me forward a step. I stop to identify the culprit, and I don’t know why I’m surprised to discover that it’s Dani. She walks past me into the hallway before she comes to a halt, glancing over her shoulder, only a few feet between us.
Her expression is empty as she looks back at me, her arms folded across the textbook that’s against her chest. Her lips twitch as though she is going to say something. She doesn’t. Instead, she turns away and joins the lunch flow, disappearing into the mass of bodies. She really is mad at me. I can see it in her blue eyes, an anger that’s deep-rooted and blazing. I try to remind myself that she’s mad at a lot of things these days, not just me, but that doesn’t make me feel any better. It makes me feel worse, actually, knowing that she’s so disconnected from everything, so furious at the world, and that I haven’t been there for her the way I should have.
A year ago, we curled each other’s hair and tested out eye makeup on one another up in her room, and we sat side by side in Spanish last year rather than at opposite corners of the room. We were friends. Not anymore.
As I head to the cafeteria to meet Holden and Will, I decide en route that I’m going to do whatever I can at all costs to avoid Danielle not only for the rest of the day, but for the rest of the week. I can’t deal with the guilt that rises in my chest when she looks at me. But Windsor High is a small school for a small town, so avoiding someone in these hallways can take a great deal of strategic effort. I keep my head down at lunch, not quite listening to whatever Holden and Will are talking about, and I stay focused in English Lit, which is easy enough because it’s the only class where I don’t really know anyone, and by the time the bell deafens me at the end of third period, I’m breathing a sigh of relief at the day being over.
Fourth period has already begun by the time I make my casual stroll to my locker, so the hallways are empty, silent, the only sound the faint echo of teachers’ voices. I open my locker and stuff half its contents inside my bag, dreading the amount of homework I still have due this week. There’s a small mirror on the back of my locker door, so I quickly pull a hairbrush through my hair before my walk home, but as I glance in the mirror one final time I catch sight of someone approaching.
And I really wish I hadn’t looked, because it’s him.
Hands in his pockets, bag slung over one shoulder, he makes his way down the hallway toward me. I immediately recognize his blond hair, shaved short at the sides but left heavier on the top. His shoulders are broad and his chest is firm. He is a linebacker on the football team, after all. I used to love running my fingers through his thick hair; I used to love how secure I felt whenever he pulled me to him. I’m starting to forget how it felt.
I pass him often in these hallways, though it’s usually while we’re both buried amongst everyone else battling their way to class, and I like that it feels more distant that way. I can always just look at the ground, keep my head down, and walk a little faster until he is out of sight.
But right now with no one else around, with nothing but silence consuming us, there’s no distance, no students to hide behind, and my body feels tense as I struggle to look away. He wets his lips just as one side curves up to create his signature crooked smile, and then his eyes flicker to meet mine directly in my mirror. They’re as blue as his sister’s, if not brighter. He slows down, almost as though for a split second he considers stopping to say something. But he doesn’t. His steps quicken again and he keeps on walking, looking away from me.
I click my locker shut and squeeze my eyes closed, pressing my forehead against the cool metal. My breath is caught in my throat. All I can see in my head is that smile of his, the same smile that I fell for last year. My heart is pounding when I open my eyes again. I stare after Jaden as he walks away, disappearing down the hallway. His stride is slow but confident. The nape of his neck is smooth and neat where his hair smoothly tapers off, and I find my gaze drifting from his broad shoulders down the curve of his spine where his T-shirt clings a little too tightly to his torso, hinting at his toned physique. And then he turns the corner and he is gone, almost as quickly as he had appeared. The hallway is empty again and my shoulders sink with relief.
Because once upon a time, when Jaden Hunter smiled that crooked smile of his at me, I smiled back.