Masking Amaya Frazer

{4} Wherever You Will Go

Placing my hands on his chest, I gave Milo a firm shove, mortified by how hot my face felt. The blush staining my cheeks was an unattractive red that betrayed my emotions, allowing him to see how I was feeling.

"I'll believe it when I see it," I said, hitching my backpack higher on my shoulder.

I failed to understand the reason for his overreaction after learning we were prohibited from using typical art utensils for the project. It wasn't like I could even ask him about it for fear of setting him off again.

I took a step in the opposite direction when he said, "Hey, wait."

"Hm?"

"Give me your hand."

"Okay?"

Milo held my hand in his, uncapped a sharpie with his teeth, and scrawled a messy phone number across the top of my hand. Letting go, he said, "I'll be your personal...hotline if you ever feel like venting to someone or need to get something off your chest."

The tips of his ears reddened as he shoved the sharpie deep in the pocket of his pants. His downcast eyes portrayed an air of shyness as he uncomfortably cleared his throat.

I hadn't realized I'd been gaping at him until he spoke again, snapping me out of my reverie.

"Are you going to say anything? Please say something so I don't look like an idiot."

"Oh, yeah, sure. Thanks," I said, awkwardly. That was perhaps the most normal sentence he had said since I first met him.

He gave me a small smile and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah."

I failed to keep up with his rapid mood changes. One second he challenged my entire being while the next, he showed me a kinder side to him that he mostly kept hidden.

Neither of us spoke for several seconds. Wanting to break the silence, we both started speaking at the same time.

"Well, I'll see-"

"-start the project."

"Oh, you go first," I said.

Milo laughed. "I was just thinking that we should start the project soon."

But we have all semester, I wanted to say. Instead, I settled for, "When?"

In a show of nonchalance, he shrugged. "Want to meet up tonight? We can go to the Student Center around eight or something."

Tonight? Already?

"Sounds good," I agreed, nevertheless. "See you then."

Milo nodded and we went our separate ways.

**********

To cool off from my encounter with Milo, I took the long way to class, accepting that I would be at least fifteen minutes late on the first day of second semester. My phone vibrated in my pocket and I took a seat on a nearby bench to check the notifications.

A phone call from an unknown number lit up the screen. I bit my lip, figuring it wouldn't make a difference to further delay my tardiness.

"Hello?" I answered.

"Hello? Who is this?"

"You called me."

The voice on the other end hesitated for a moment. "Oh, yeah. Hey, listen Amaya. Your father and I received the first payment due date for your college and even with your scholarships, we won't be able to pay it."

"Who's phone are you calling off of?" I asked, blatantly disregarding what she said.

There was a pause. "My work phone."

"Mom, I have that number saved in my contacts."

"Did you hear what I just said? This college is too expensive so we've been discussing what we should do about it."

"You and Dad are actually speaking to each other?"

"Amaya," my mother warned, her tone snippy. "You're going to have to transfer to a college nearby next semester so we can actually afford it."

"No way!" I yelled, tightening my hand around the phone. "You know I can't go back there."

She sighed. "We'll talk more about this later. I have to go now."

The line went dead and buzzed in my ear as I continued to hold it there, staring straight ahead.

Before I could give it a second thought, I turned my hand over, and punched the series of numbers into my cellphone. I waited anxiously as my heart pounded in my chest and a cold sweat broke out behind my neck.

After a few rings, I thought about ending the call. He's not going to pick up, I worried.

Just as I was about to jab a finger on the red button, a deep voice rumbled in my ear.

"Who's calling?"

I felt the familiar prick of tears ignite behind my eyes as I fought to keep them at bay. I hiccuped, covering my mouth with a hand as I squeezed my eyes shut, relieved that he picked up.

"My mom's having an affair and they're getting a divorce soon," I cried, "They can't pay sixty thousand dollars a year for me to go away for college. I'm transferring next semester."

"Woah, slow down there. Where are you right now?"

"Um," I looked up as a few snowflakes began to fall. "I'm on the bench across from the library."

"Okay, stay there." There was a bit of shuffling on the other end as he promised, "I'll be there in a minute."

He hung up just as my mother had, but instead of adding to the frigid temperatures as that woman had done, he caused a foreign warmth to spread across my chest. The frost bit my nose as I blew hot air into my gloved hands, waiting for Milo.

It didn't take long for him to find me. He ran without precaution with his backpack wide open and slung over one shoulder, and his jacket unzipped, flying in the wind.

Doubling over in front of me, he placed his hands on his knees, and wheezed, "Thank you for getting me out of that class. I can't stand poetry."

Finding that a surprise, I sniffled and said, "But each word you say is so beautifully matriculated. It's as if you speak in verse."

He waved a hand through the air and dusted the snowflakes from his dark hair. "Hardly," he denied, taking a seat beside me. Bumping his shoulder into mine, his blue eyes softened as he said, "I know a way you can stay here."

Swiping the tears from my eyes, I asked, "How?"

"The prize for winning the art showcase competition at the end of the semester is ten grand. Compared to the cost of tuition, it may not seem like much, but your parents might allow you to stay when we win."

I felt a small smile tip of the corners of my lips. "You're that confident we'll place first?"

He nodded, utterly serious. "Like I said, Dove. I'll be your wings, but you have to promise me one thing."

"And that is?"

"Help me color coordinate my clothes." He gestured to his mismatched clothing

I gawked at him.

"And be my eyes for the project. Not everything is as black and white as it seems--not to me, at least."

**********

Hi! I know this chapter was kind of boring, but as always please let me know your thoughts by leaving a vote and a comment. Thanks!