A Collection of Short Stories

Mary Kate (Keaton)

Mary Kate

I’ve liked him since I first met him last year in our Freshman Math class. He doesn’t really know I exist, well, not in that way at least. I’m just the girl he copies his Math homework off because he really struggles with it. He knows my name. Well, he knows my name is Mary Kate. We haven’t reached the stage where he calls me Emkay like all my friends do. Maybe one day though. Then again, maybe not. Although I’m okay with that because Mary Kate coming from his mouth sounds cute.  I’ve been sitting next to him in Maths since Freshman Year, he started copying my homework around the halfway mark. I didn’t mind because honestly, who could reject Keaton Stromberg? He was everything I looked for in a guy; cute, funny, kind, slightly weird but not a total outcast and he loved music. I couldn’t tell you just how many times our teacher had growled him for humming different tunes. I had a favourite one that he hummed; it only surfaced when he was happy which was almost every day so hearing it instantly is able to put a smile on my own face.

—

I’m sitting in Maths when Keaton comes in and gruffly plonks himself next to me. It barely takes him ten seconds to start humming a song as he scribbles his copied homework down. We have an unspoken agreement, I just edge my sheet of paper close to him and he copies. It’s always been like that. I think we’ve talked maybe thirteen times since the beginning of Freshman year. I’m about to make it fourteen because he’s just about killed the nub of his pencil scrawling down the answers. I clear my throat, “A bit angry?”

His head snaps up and it rather gives me a fright. His stare is intense and fixed straight on me. I fidget nervously and avoid his eyes. He frowns and cocks his head to the side, as if he’s thinking about something. “What makes you think I’m angry?”

I nod my head in the direction of his homework and dark pencil lines, “You’re practically murdering your pencil and you’re not humming what you usually hum.”

“And what do I usually hum?”

His head is still tilted to the side, his eyebrows pursed together in confusion. I avoid his gaze once more, now I just feel like a stalker. He’s still expecting me to answer so I busy myself fixing up some paper on my desk to give off the impression that I’m not really fussed, “It’s just you hum this tune when you’re happy. I don’t recognise it though. But now you’re humming something harsher and I can tell you’re not happy.”  I finally look at him and he’s looking at me as if I’m the weirdest person he’s met in his life. “Great. Now you probably think I’m creepy.” I mutter, averting my eyes somewhere else.

He clears his throat and moves back to copying the answers. When he’s finished, he rests the side of his face on his hand and turns his attention towards me, “So what else do you know about me?”

“Not much considering we never talk.” I shoot back before I can stop myself.

He looks slightly shocked before an easy smile rests itself on his face, “You’re one hundred percent right. What’s your favourite colour?”

His reply catches me off guard. I wasn’t expecting his reply to be that laid back. He has a genuine smile on his face though so I let myself relax a little and after checking the teacher hasn’t arrived yet, I answer him with ease, “Purple, like the purple the sky goes when the sun’s going down and you know the next day is going to be a really good day.”

“That’s a deep answer.” He says with a small chuckle. “Mine is green. Just … green.”

I smile, “I like that colour. What’s your favourite thing to do?”

“Sit myself in my room and produce music whilst stroking my cat. It’s my favourite past time.”

I can’t help it. I burst out laughing. When I’ve calmed down, I give him a huge grin, “That’s the best answer I’ve heard all year.”