Looking At Us

23. erick

The Kikino Room was one of the most relaxing places in the school. It was a place that celebrated Metis heritage, but a lot of non-Metis kids were allowed to chill in it. There was food, music, a TV; everything you needed to escape the strain of school. 

     I was Metis and so was Jacob Cuban, who was in my Home Ec. group, so we often spent our time hanging out on the rugged couch in the corner. Jacob was this big Hispanic kid, muscled and tall, but he picked up Jinx’s guitar and played it in the gentlest way every. Jinx was this elegant woman in her twenties who looked after the Kikino room. 

     ‘‘When did you start playing guitar?’’ Jinx asked Wednesday morning as Jacob and I sat on our couch. She was called Jinx because she had the worst luck in the world: her boyfriend had died in a car crash two months ago, her sister was suffering from dementia, and her house had burned down a year ago, so she stayed at her crippled brother’s place. 

     Jacob shrugged. ‘‘When I was nine. My granddad taught me.’’

     He started playing Avicii’s Hey Brother, fingering the tune lightly, and Jinx opened her mouth to sing the first line when Megan and Shain came in and Megan cried, ‘‘Heeeeeyyy, brother!’’ 

     Jinx and Jacob and I cracked up. Shain looked at Megan funny, like, You do weird things sometimes. 

     Megan smiled and took a bow, looking incredibly cute, snatching my heart away. Her eyes, her sky-blue eyes, lacked their usual excitement.  

     She yelled, ‘‘YOLO!’’ 

     We applauded. 

     There was watermelon on the table, and Shain’s gray eyes widened, and she said, ‘‘Food!’’

     We laughed. 

     The bell rang for period one, which was Math for me and French for Megan (don’t call me a stalker, I just happen to know these things). I felt a sudden rush to walk Megan to her locker, but just as I was about to walk up to her and smile and propose my idea, she went over to Jinx and started talking. Jinx frowned. I knew I wasn’t going to be able to walk Megan to her locker today. 

     Shain was tying the shoelace of her red Adidas hi-tops as I passed, and she smiled at me. She must’ve known what Jinx and Megan were talking about, so I said, ‘‘What’s going on with her?’’

     ‘‘Megan?’’

     ‘‘Yeah. What’s she talking to Jinx about?’’

     Shain stood, frowned, and moved closer so that she could whisper in my ear. ‘‘She got some texts last night from Hadley . . . threats, really. It was really ugly, and she thought Jinx might be able to help her.’’

     Shain’s stomach was, like, less than an inch away from mine because she had to lean up so that her words could hit my ear. The feeling gave me tickles in my chest. 

     Megan walked over. ‘‘Tell Mrs. Florence that I’m in the Kikino Room. Jinx wants to chat with me.’’

     ‘‘Okay,’’ Shain said. ‘‘Erick, which class do you have?’’

     I said, ‘‘Math. With Mr. Tedder. You?’’

     ‘‘French, which is right beside Tedder’s room. Come on, I’ll walk with you.’’ 

     Jacob, Jinx, and Megan said goodbye to me, and I found myself walking a girl to her locker—she wasn’t as pretty as Megan or as astonishing as Megan, but as I said something that was possibly funny, Shain laughed, and I realized that she was special in her own ways. 

     Her laugh, for instance, was endearing.