Standing Still

Chapter 15: Stargazing and Deeply Simplistic Thoughts

(Not edited 😁)

On my way home, I walked in a daze.

Aiden had offered multiple times to drive me, but I said no. Walking cleared my mind, it forced all buried away thoughts to bubble up to the forefront of my attention. Today, however, instead of being bombarded with family matters, unsympathetic teachers, and ostracizing friends, I thought of Dylan.

I'd thought of Dylan no less than five-hundred-thousand times since third grade. I watched new, straight-on-the-top, crooked-on-the-bottom, teeth come in to fill the empty holes that ones held baby ones. The freckles disappeared from his face, and his brown hair grew out a little to cover the slightly stick-out ears on the sides of his head. He was always clean shaven, always put together, always arranged neatly. He was, in the most technical form of the word, perfect.

Somebody perfect wanted me. Maybe it would've been embarrassing on any normal day for me to squeal out loud on the sidewalk of the right-hand side of Jefferson Street, but this was not any normal day. No, it was the day that I wedged my way out from underneath the bottom of the barrel, where no one could ever find me. This was the day that I, Annabel Elizabeth Parker, got noticed.

So I squealed.

Squealing didn't prove to be enough, though, so I twirled around in the empty street, jumping up and down and squealing some more. If anybody had seen me, I would've been thoroughly embarrassed. But nobody had, so I just relished in the feeling of being so elated I was sure I was going to explode.

Then, suddenly, my phone started buzzing in my pocket. I stopped my twirling and squealing, pulling it out of my pocket and answering it before I even looked at who was calling.

"Hello?" I said, a smile on my face.

"Anna-Banana." Aiden. "What's up?"

I thought for a moment. "Not much," I said, because I was afraid if I mentioned Dylan's name it would just encourage the squealing again, which would have only sounded annoying over the phone. In real life, too, probably, but I didn't care about that. "What's up with you?"

"Babysitting is up." He paused for a moment, as if he was thinking for the right thing to say. "Do you wanna come over in, like, fifteen minutes?"

"To your house?"

"No, to my car. I was thinking we could sit in there and babysit the kids. You know, just to shake things up."

"Ha ha," I said flatly, shifting my weight from foot to foot. "I don't even know where you live."

"307 Sycamore Street. It's... kinda hard to miss. It's blue."

"Okay," I said, tapping my right foot in a small puddle. The water soaked through to my toes, and I shivered from the cold, pulling my jacket tighter around me. "See you in a few minutes."

"Fifteen," he corrected, his voice tight. "See you."

As I heard the receiver click dead, I pulled the phone away from my ear and frowned. Oh, well, I thought, he can't be cheery all the time.

I turned on my heel, beginning to walk in the opposite direction of my house, toward Sycamore; it made no sense to walk to my house, stay for two seconds, and then trek all the way to his. Besides, it was only about a ten minute walk. Probably half that for a car. I wondered how he'd been so close to me all this time, almost two months, and I'd never known. Then again, I'd never asked.

The chilled air nipped at my neck and cheeks, and I pressed my hands to my face, trying to warm both in the process. It didn't work. The only time the cold was acceptable was when it brought snow, and none had come yet, so far. So I tucked my hands into my armpits and ducked my head toward the ground, avoiding the harsh wind.