In Motion

Chapter 12: Winter by Joshua Radin (2006)

I was standing outside Martin's Math classroom that afternoon as they were being dismissed. That guy Philip was the first one out the door. He stared at me for a split second with a detached expression.

I gave him a not-so-friendly head nod, eyebrow raised and mouth set in a straight line.

He gulped and paced to the exit.

A few steps behind, Martin wore a scandalized, what-the-fuck reaction. Shit.

My face broke into a toothy smile, trying to erase all traces of menace in my expression. Martin's mouth was hanging open as he approached me, speechless at my asinine ways. His eyebrows were in orbit and his palms were held out in frustration.

"Hey, you," I greeted in my most cheerful voice.

"What was that?" he asked, his voice pitchy. It reminded me of my mom's.

I frowned and shrugged, pretending that I didn't know what he was talking about. "I said hi to your classmate," I mumbled.

Martin stood in front of me: eyes squinted, arms crossed, and head tilted. Okay, he was definitely pissed. But whatever. That guy knew what he did.

He exhaled and shook his head. "What are you doing here anyway?" he asked, the edge in his voice intact.

That was a good question. What was I doing in Math past 5 PM that Thursday? And last Tuesday... And last, last Thursday... And last, last Tuesday...

At that point I had run out of excuses. I always had a "new song" or "food that I wanted to share" or "an idea for our paper." Somehow, "I just wanna see you" sounded pathetic.

Martin had humored me like a sport. He'd get in my car and pretend to buy my excuse. We'd find ourselves parked in a secluded part of the campus, away from the bustle of the Oval. I'd ask him about his day over chips or fruit shake. He'd ask about mine. Our conversations would take a life of its own. After an hour, the campus would be shrouded in early dusk then I'd drive him to an MRT station.

That afternoon of the Mad, Mad Martin might play out differently.

"I..." I stammered, thinking on my feet and growing smaller in panic. "I, uhm, can I borrow your readings for Int Dev?" My own voice sounded unconvinced.

"They're available in the AS photocopier," he pointed out, eyes still squinted.

"Yeah, well," I shot back, my voice feeble. "You lug around your readings like a nerd."

He blew air through his mouth and rolled his eyes, but there was a smirk beginning to crack his frustration. He began heading to the exit while I walked a few inches beside him.

"Kyle," he began, his voice sounding disappointed. "Don't be a jerk. Please?"

"Sorry," I mumbled. Shoulders slumped, I pushed my lips together and cast my eyes on the pavement.

"He stopped walking with me," he said as we exited the building. "So did the others since you started showing up." The tumble of his words was low and fast.

The others? There was more than one? I stopped walking and gaped at the back of his head.

"I'm really good at Math," he said, walking ahead of me. The smugness in his voice sounded out of place. "My classmates find it hot."

"Not fucking funny," I growled, punctuating every word.

He stopped walking and turned around. His face was crumpled in a belly laugh, eyes shut and mouth wide. His baritone filled the deserted parking lot. I would've socked that dimpled assface on the chest if he didn't look so cute.