For the Love of Claire

Chapter 2

       I hated listening to Marly scrape her knife and fork together. She was sitting right across from me. We were eating chicken alfredo and I was disgusted at how loud she was at the table. At least the awful sound she was making with her silverware proved there was life in this house today. Nobody was talking and nobody was really eating. We were all just picking at our plates as if we were all at friends’ houses and their parents made something we didn’t like. It was that kind of awkwardness at the Winchester dinner table. I finished my portion of noodles and chicken and went back upstairs. I logged in to my MyBook profile and searched for James Bradshire. He was popular but his looks did not shout male model material. Looks didn’t even matter, though. It was all about personality. But really, I didn’t want to be set up on a date. I wanted to find someone on my own who showed initial interest in me. And plus, I liked Tommy. A lot.

        I didn’t even know what it was about Tommy. He was funny and could make anyone laugh. He was athletic but kept good grades. He liked watching movies and playing video games, but he was also into photography. Sounds great, right? Well, I wanted a guy who would cuddle with me and sleep in my bed with me without trying to take advantage of me. I wanted a guy who would show up at my door with flowers or get on his knee to ask me to prom. I wanted a guy who was romantic and would tell me everything I wanted to hear. I wanted the scenarios in my head to be brought to life by someone. And I wanted it to be Tommy. But nobody can change a person. I couldn’t and neither could anyone else. Tommy wasn't romantic. He was attractive and sporty but he'd never had a girlfriend. Maybe he was gay. No, he coudn’t be. Tommy’s eyebrows needed help but that was about it. His skin was pale but had a certain glow to it anyway. He was tall and skinny and kept his hair really short. His teeth were perfectly crooked and his smile… I wish I knew why it made me so happy each time I saw it.. And not too many things tend to make me happy anymore. Atleast not since I was about 13. 

        I guess I’d just gotten sad over the fact that nobody really wanted to go out with me. I wasn't ugly, and all the old ladies I knew told me so. But the girls at school are still so fake and orange and slutty. That’s the new thing. They think that putting out for guys will make them feel loved and that will somehow make them feel better about themselves. And it works. But I wouldn’t resort to that. Sure, I try to look good. But not like they did. Now that I’m sixteen and look like I’m about eighteen, it's easy to get guys around twenty to have interest in me. Even though I’m not really trying. That’s gross… and illegal. So, really, all I can do about my whole Tommy situation is watch it play out and then be depressed when nothing happens.

       I was in English class Friday trying to figure out why everyone was staring at me. Even Mrs. Mardette. Even Tommy Frantz. I wondered if my face was red. Maybe my hair was sticking up. Maybe there was a huge zit on my forehead. Maybe my nose was running or I had a sign on my back that said kick me.

        The bell rang and I was off to Biology. Except someone stopped me from behind. I didn’t have time to think about who’s hand was on my shoulder before I spun around and almost had a heart attack. “Hi, Tommy,” I said. I was his friend, right? He was probably going to talk to me about the Englsh homework or something.

        “Claire, are you really going to the dance with James Bradshire?”

        “Not as far as I know. Who told you I was?”

        “Camille.”

        “Oh, of course it was Camille.”

        “Oh.” He knew what I meant. He knew Camille and how she was.

        “So,” I asked, “who are you going with?”

        “I don’t think I’m going.” Tommy looked down at his shoes, embarrassed maybe.