The Whisper Seekers

Love's Not Time's Fool

By Thursday, I am completely miserable. Liam refuses to talk to me and Harper only wants to talk about Liam. Because Liam seems to get along with everyone, he's managed to stay away from our group and mingle in the hallways and at lunch with a bunch of other seniors, including the Dirts.

Derek is ecstatic that Liam and I haven't said a word to each other in days and we go on as we were before Liam came and continue to plan homecoming. I'm back to hanging out at Derek's house both at lunch and after practice, but Derek has made everyone aware that Liam is no longer welcome. Harper somehow gets Derek to agree to have Liam be a part of our homecoming group and I am more surprised that Liam agreed. Harper books a limo and restaurant for before the dance stressed that the closer we got to the dance, the more limited on limo options there'd be, but  I can't get myself to care. I am more worried that we've made no progress toward the whole "someone bringing a gun to school thing."

As Lily and Harper obsess every day about the stupid dance, I'm becoming unenthusiastic and am beginning to think we are making way too big of a deal about one evening out. I see there is more to the world than coordinating heels with dresses, but I can't tell anyone about my distractions. I understand Liam's mad at me or whatever but this is bigger than both of us.

Our cheer practice was pushed out an hour since our coach had another commitment, so I decide to take dealing with Ian into my own hands today. I decide to follow Ian after school and attempt to keep enough of a distance so he doesn't recognize my car. I'm the only one at Highland Park High that drives an hot pink Range Rover with a large white megaphone sticker on the back window. I put my large black Chanel sunglasses on and sit on the hill overlooking his neighborhood. He lives in a smaller one-story house with similar houses next to his creating a large cul de sac. I watch him get out of his car alone and fifteen minutes after arriving home, he leaves again with his mom to the grocery store. I don't bother waiting in the shopping center's parking lot and I show up to cheer practice disappointed.

I keep checking my phone throughout practice, hoping Liam would text with more details, but the only texts I get lately are from Harper, Lily and Derek. This is when I hate that Liam doesn't have social media so I can't stalk him on there either. I don't know where he is or what he's doing unless Harper posts something with him reluctantly in the background.

I knew Liam couldn't avoid me forever when I remembered we had a sonnet due the following day. After cheer practice, I throw my bag over my shoulder and I text Liam asking if we could get together to work on the assignment. I can't rely on other people like I do for tests when our assignment is memorization.  I am heading to my car when he replies, Sure. Come over. In complete excitement I throw my stuff in the backseat, sling my seatbelt across me and rush to his house.

His house is just as I remembered it from last time. There has been no progress on opening any of the boxes and his house has a lonely, empty feeling to it. We ascend in silence up the familiar staircase and into his room that awaits us at the end of the hall. His room looks more put together than the rest of the house with a new entertainment center set up against the wall opposite his bed. A massive flat-screen TV is attached to an XBOX with video games tossed across the floor.

"Nice," I say as I point to the new additions. He pulls out the same chair I sat in last time and I take a seat. I pull out my sonnet and grab a pen. "So how should we break us up?" I pause realizing what I said and back up, "I mean how are we going to break this sonnet up?" He sits on his bed with his notebook looking like he isn't interested in what comes out of my mouth. I'm going to try really hard to keep this about school, but his shirt is slightly unbuttoned revealing his tan broad chest when he leans forward. He looks up at me and then grabs a sweatshirt lying on the corner of his bed. He tugs it on without making eye contact, which works in my favor since he misses me blushing.