The Chemistry Test

8. ditching and disagreeing

Day Four

The faster and the farther I ran, the less I cared about missing Theater. Everyone ditched class at one point in their life. It was part of the high school experience, right?

At least that's what I told myself. Plus, if Zak and I really were ditching together, it could have been considered a bonding experience for the chemistry test. It wasn't like Gorveau was tripping over his heels to yank us back into class.

We reached the pavement and I could have sworn my heart was about to be ripped from my chest. Panting, crouched toward my knees I looked up at Zak, who hadn't even broken a sweat.

"You okay, there?" He frowned, cocking his head.

"Just," I wheezed, "Give me a second."

"Don't run much?"

I inhaled deeply and rose from my knees to meet him at eye-level. "There are more important things than athletics." Another deep inhale and the blood in my head stopped pounding.

He crossed his arms, eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Humor me."

"Well, academics." I pointed out. He rolled his eyes. "Personally, I like to garden."

An amused smirk slid through his lips. "You're a lot like my grandmother."

I laughed, "Thank you?"

"It's a compliment, trust me. She bakes the best pies on the planet." His eyes flickered to the sky as if plagued by the memory. "I can almost taste them now. Man, I'm hungry." He turned back to me. "Wanna take me to that ice cream shop again? What was it called?"

"Creamie's." I smiled, pausing a moment. "Does your grandmother like ice cream?"

"No." he chuckled. "Just pie."

--

It was rare for Creamie's to be vacant. I was so used to seeing the shop buzzing with life, small kids with ice-cream covered faces scampering in and out of the teal tables and along the chocolate-chip covered walls.

Despite the nip in the air, we found ourselves sitting outside on the patio underneath a canary umbrella. Zak got the triple chocolate fudge flavor, Mark's personal favorite, but he'd hardly touched it since we got there.

His eyes kept fluttering toward the window, and every once in a while he'd smile and quickly look back at me in hopes I wasn't watching him too closely. Either his mind was busy or he recognized one of the cashiers, considering the red head and the blonde were the only other people at the shop besides us. It was probably the latter.

After a third or fourth time of his eyes skittering, he seemed to realize I was paying more attention to him than he thought.

"Sorry."

"Do you have a lot on your mind?" I dug into the bowl of sherbet and mouthed a spoonful.

His eyes followed my hand from the bowl to my mouth before he cleared his throat and toyed with his own bowl. "It's just weird, you know?" He dropped his spoon, the metal clanking against the ceramic like nails on a chalkboard.

"What do you mean?"

"This." He gestured between us. "The whole thing - the chemistry test - it's just unnecessary. There's nothing wrong with our play."

There it was again, our play. It rolled off of his tongue so carelessly. I didn't agree with him, though. There were a lot of problems with Juliet and Romeo, and the main one was with Zak and I. I saw it, Gorveau saw it, why didn't Zak?