TRAIN [FIRST DRAFT]

Chapter 28: As Days Rolled into Weeks

The following day, Aimee was ready for school bright and early, as always. She found Stefan waiting in the driveway, in his glossy New Beetle, and his charming smile shone through the rainbow of reflections in the windscreen.

"I'm thinking of Bert," said Aimee enigmatically. "It's an appropriate name for a car, right? I mean, he even looks like a Bert."

Aimee was dressed in dark-wash jeans, her black-and-white print top that cascaded off her shoulders. Those old and muddied black sneakers of hers stepped into the car, and she glimpsed at Stefan. He was still smiling at her, scanning her attire.

"What?" she queried shyly.

"Nothing... I just like what you're wearing," he chuckled, but he was honest. He eyed her sneakers especially.

She looked at them and giggled, "Thanks. I do, too."

He pulled out of the driveway and up the streets to Ulysses S, his hands tight on the wheel, and his eyes upon Aimee every now and again. He knew how she felt about school – he'd gotten used to her wearing hoodies and the same pair of jeans three days in a row – but that Monday was different, she was not deflated.

Stefan and Aimee walked hand-in-hand into the school. They still received those opinionated stares from their peers, but the measure of those stares had died down considerably. They collected some books from their lockers and strolled through the halls, but before they could wane into their separate classes, Stefan caught her at the waist. Their bodies were hardly an inch apart when he gazed upon her and kissed her sweetly on the forehead.

"I'll see you at our tree," he whispered.

Stefan's classmates rushed out of the door at the sound of the bell, before their bags were even on their backs, and he called Emma. They stayed inside the classroom, avoiding the hallways that struggled to contain the outpour of students who somehow always seemed dangerous during recess.

"What's up?" she greeted him kindly, but one could tell that she felt uncomfortable speaking to him.

"Are you busy on Saturday?" he asked.

She ogled him nervously, but she could guess by the way he checked the traffic of teenagers that he was in somewhat of a hurry. Or maybe he was just as discomforted as she was.

"No," she replied. "Unless Kirkwood decides we'll be practising, but that's unlikely. We haven't had a real practise since the league ended, he's just been drilling us during P.T, but that's not the same, you know?"

Stefan's eyebrows rose at her sudden sociability. "I'll pick you up at twelve," he said simply and turned away.

"Wait," she quickly pulled him back, fixed in confusion, "what the hell is this about? Are you asking me out?"

"Aimee. This weirdness has to end and I'll take you to her myself if I have to."

Her grip on his shirt loosened, the expression in her eyes changed and her entire body froze. "I know. I know I should apologise, but –"

"Emma!" Kirsten sang her name from within the sea of students, merging and yet standing out.

"I've gotta go," Emma told Stefan.

"If you think she hates you, you're wrong," he told her, his eyebrows drew close as a mark of sympathy. "Come with me Saturday, we can fix this."

Emma refused, fleeing hastily into the crowd. "I'm sorry."

"Emma, she needs you!"

She slowed her steps for a moment, but did not stop. When Kirsten asked about their conversation, Emma simply shook her head.