Dark Alley

Chapter 21

     Calvin drove me and Tracy back to his house. Calvin did ask about my long delay and I gave him a lame yet convincing answer, I told him about me helping my English teacher in carrying the stack of books that will be used for tomorrow - he didn't say anything about it.

     I look at Tracy. We're both alone in the kitchen when Calvin left. I wanted to ask her about Mrs. Dekker suspecting her in bullying me. But that's not my point. I want to ask her why Mrs. Dekker hates her, or if that's how I see it.

     Every step I do to get close to her she moves another meter away instead. She reaches for the fridge while I am two meters away from her leaning on the counter with my arms wrapped at each other.

     I notice her stealing glimpse from me, I counted it and it reached ten glimpses before she could talk.

     "Foster," she paused. This time she was holding a box of milk on her hand while the other shuts the fridge close, "stop following me, it's creeping the hell out of me."

     "I'm sorry-" we both unexpectedly said at the same time. I try not to laugh as much as she starts chuckling.

     "What are you sorry for?" She asks. "I was the one who saw and gave meaning to what I saw."

     "That's not what I'm sorry for," I tell her.

     "Oh," there was a wide o formed on her mouth and she pouted them close. "Then what are you sorry for?"

     I'm sorry for doubting you, I'm too much of a jerk to be called your friend, I wanted to tell her that. But she wouldn't understand. I don't want her to know that sometimes I think that Mrs. Dekker has a point, that I shouldn't trust her- "I'm sorry - I'm sorry, for bothering you all the time."

     Tracy laughed a bit. "What?" She asked. "You were never a bother Foster, well a bit - but you're a good type of bother," she says, "you distract me Foster, you make me feel more human whenever we are talking, and also you make me sound like a genius because I know a lot more about things than you."

     I nodded with a laugh.

     Tracy changed the subject by asking about our homework to be submitted for tomorrow. I didn't plan on making them, but I did when Tracy offered me her help with it and also when she told me we'll be doing it in my room while she makes me check out some tracks from her vintage mix tape.

     Tracy jumps into my bed as she presses her blonde hair on the sheets of the bed. "Smell the scent of strawberry on your sleep," she says in a narrative tome, "smell my hair Foster!" She sat down on my bed and took a fist of her blonde hair. I had a sniff on her hair, she was right - It smelled like light and fresh strawberries, I wonder how many gallons of crushed strawberries she placed on her hair to smell good. I can smell her perfume too, I don't know how to describe this kind of smell, but it feels soft and her, it smells like her. I hope the sheets can capture this smell. I see her smiling as we exchange looks. I see her blue eyes clearly and I enjoy seeing my own reflexion through it.

     "You have very unique eyes Foster," she says. I wonder what she meant. Now she's about to tell me, the color of my eyes, I never knew mine as much as I knew everybody, it became some sort of my personality finder. Tracy held my chin with her thumb and index finger. I try to balance myself as I crouch on the ground, both my arms placed on her lap like I was dreamy. Our faces just one and a half feet from each other. Tracy had a view of my side angle while she move head with her two fingers.

     "What are you doing?"

     "Don't move, you're distracting me," she says. Still not moving my head it started to cramp. "You're eyes look a bit of dark gold on this side," she says. Then she moves my head on the opposite side, now I'm facing on my left, "in this angle you're eyes looks green-ish. I am fascinated yet still uncertain."

     This time, I know what she is doing; she's examining my eye colour. I've been wondering what I look like, what my eye colour could be. She faces my head to hers again and leans half a foot forward to mine. "On this side I am certain, your eyes are grey."

     Really? I thought grey would be the most bland colour and eye could have, it's bland and shadowy. But from how Tracy describes it, my eyes seemed to be shining like the way I see hers, and from Maricriss's.

     "You're very handsome," she says, "no kidding."

     I remember my mother, well my sort-of-a mother. How my hideous face looks like, how she wanted to vomit when she sees it, how she tells me it's the reason why no one wants to befriend me. My mother was wrong all along. Because this time, a very beautiful girl, whom I befriended just told me that I am a handsome human being too.

     Tracy stood away from my bed before I could tell her what's inside my mind. She took a USB out of her pocket with a little label 'vintage mix' written on it. She inserted it on the music player she gave me yesterday and waited for three second to produce another beautiful song.

     "We should better start working on our homework," she says.

     I nodded.

     Tracy took a couple of things from her bag; I did the same from mine. The song lasted for four minutes, and it has this great upbeat that can move my curiosity.

     Tracy ended up taking what she said a while ago, about how she out-smarted me. I ended up teaching her in our Math homework. I felt overwhelmed that I can still remember math as much as I do it in the alley.

    Tracy leans beside me, we were sitting on the wooden floor while our books wide spread on the ground.

     "You got to put the date before you pass it tomorrow, otherwise Professor Pena's not going to make you take credit on it," she says. Pointing the corner right most part of my answer sheet.

    "What date is it today?" I ask her.

     "It's November 24, 2015."

     A big O was formed in my mouth and Tracy didn't get it - yet.

     "Why are you doing that?"

     "What?"

     "That OMG look! You act like Q and R."

     "Tracy, I'll be celebrating my 60th birthday tomorrow."

     "Oh," she says. Her eyes brows met, "awkward, you don't look like one."

     "What's wrong with that?"

     "Nothing. It's just weird, don't worry about it," she says. I'm feeling that she's really thinking deep this time. "Advance happy birthday anyways."

     "Thanks." We exchanged smiles and I could see those tiny holes on each side of her face when she smirks.

     She is the most beautiful present that has given to me. Not that I own her, but meeting her face is already the golden present I could ever have.