In Your Head

twelve

Three Years Earlier

January 1996...

"Hey, this is Trevor. I can't answer your call now, but leave a message and I'll get right back to ya!" his recorded, bright yet deep voice echoes through the pay phone near the entrance of the school. I jam the black phone to my ear, my grasp clammy and tight. My eyes jump back and forth in the main hall. Following student after student who hurries by, watching out for anyone nosey enough to grab the phone out of my clutches and hear who I'm trying to reach. But really, when I say anyone, I don't mean just any random kid. But my friends, who will be turning the corner any moment I'm sure.

*Beep*

His answering machine goes off after a moment, still cramming the phone to my ear to absorb all the sound. My heart races to the sound of the high pitched ringing through the pay phone, and delicate butterflies flutter inside me.

"Uhhh....hi.....Trevor, it's me." My voice fades, my breath taken away like I'm running out of air.

Why are you nervous? You've left voicemails for him and he usually gets right back to you. Well, at home that is, never at school. So what's the issue now?

The hall dies down, not as stuffed and crowded as it was minutes ago when the bell rang, yelling at us to head to our next class. Something I should be doing now as well, heading to my third period class before they shut the door and I'm locked out. But there's something I have to do first. Something that's gnawing, eating me alive and I can't wait to get home and call him like usual. No, this has to be now, no matter how risky this is that I'm calling him in school, something he's lectured me on before. But whatever, it doesn't matter at this point. He breaks the rules with me, why can't I with him?

The static on the other end amplifies, waiting for the message that's crypted in my head, foggy and confused.

"I know you told me not to call from the school anymore, but....I just really want to explain," my pause lasts one thousand seconds, as if waiting to hear his breath, his heart, his thoughts. But no matter what I do I hear his thoughts more than mine, the words he's repeated on loops when we're together, tracing a finger down my face.

Pause. Pause before you think. Pause before you say. Pause before you act. Pause, pause, pause. That's how we're careful. That's how we keep this hidden.

I repeat the phrase in my mind as I try to find my words now. My eyes stray from the hallway, down to the large phone book by the booth and the carvings marked into the wood beside it.

"Why won't you pick up? Why haven't you been in school for the past few days? I need to talk to you......about what happened the other day at your place. I...I really do feel that way towards you, I was just surprised, I think. I didn't mean to make you upset, I didn't mean to pull away. It's just......I've...I've never felt this way about someone olde—"

"Hey! Kara, where have you been?" a sudden voice shoots into the air, footsteps approaching. A jolt runs through me, an automatic reaction, and I hang the pay phone back on the hook. A hot worry spreads across my face, inching through every part of my body, and I spin around with my breath still held.

"You keep disappearing on us, what's up?" My friends' familiar faces step towards me, the same expression plastered to all of them. A look of concern, or maybe confusion, or maybe relief that they finally found me, I don't know. It's a mixture of all three, and I can't point out which expression is the most prominent.

Did they hear what I was saying? How long have they been standing there?

"Who were you calling just now?" Alanna asks, adding to the pile of questions, taking turns as they interrogate me. Candace and Alanna stand on either side of Austin, who appears to be the most concerned. Gripping the straps of his bag, he's fidgety like he always is when he's nervous.