Once Again

Once Again (21)

Connor decided to cut his afternoon classes. He informs me of this via text as I’m searching the parking lot for a car that is no longer present. While I’m waiting for his response to my response and waiting to figure out how I’m going to get home, I wander back towards the school so I don’t get hit by one of the numerous incompetent drivers at this school.

I receive a text in response, saying that our mom can drop by the school whenever she’s finished shopping. It could be midnight or tomorrow or the weekend by the time she’s finished scouring every store, but when I tell my brother that I am not willing to wait for her, he decides to stop replying. He sends my calls straight to voicemail.

I sit down on a bench and think through my options. I could walk home. It takes 15 minutes to get from school to my house by car, and I can’t fathom how long it would take to walk. I know better than to call my dad while he's at work, much less expect him to leave early to do me a favor. No, I’d much rather walk. According to a conversation I overheard at lunch, Ashley and Cynthia both have plans immediately after school. I know that Dylan would be willing to give me a ride home, but I don’t even consider calling him, because, well, I just don’t. I think about Owen, and realizing that he is probably nice enough to give me a ride, I also realize that he is by far my best option. Just as I start to send him a text, asking whether or not he has already left school, someone sits down beside me on the bench.

This startles me; typically people don’t sit next to other people on school benches if there are other perfectly good, and empty, benches nearby. I look up and realize I shouldn’t be surprised by the odd behavior. It’s James.

“Hi.” I say, deciding to keep things simple but polite. 

“Hi.” He replies.

I don’t say anything in response; instead, I finish composing my text to Owen and then press ‘send.’

“Where’s Connor?” James asks, but keeps his eyes locked straight forward. I do the same, after allowing myself a quick glance at him.

“Who knows.”

“Do you have a ride?”

“Yeah.” I lie.

“That’s good.”

I wait for him to stand up and leave, but he doesn’t.

Instead he asks “Who?”

“Who what?” I ask.

“Who is giving you a ride?”

“Is it any of your business?” I ask, knowing that it is not.

“I’m just curious.”

“Owen.” I say. It’s the truth; I just received a text back from him, agreeing to drive me home. I don’t mention that Owen also said it will be about twenty minutes because he has to finish up at a club meeting.

“Why?”

“Why what?”

You talk to Owen. You even let Owen drive you home. Why won’t you at least have ONE conversation with me?” He asks, his eyes boring deep into mine. I’m afraid that he’ll get too close to the truth, whatever that even is, so I turn my head away.

“Fine. You want to have a conversation? Let’s have a conversation.” I immediately know that I will regret this, but I cannot take back to words.

James appears stunned for a moment – I’m sure that he never expected me to change my mind – but he quickly recovers and smiles.

“Hi.”

“What?”

“Hi.” He repeats. “Let’s have a normal conversation.” He says flatly, but pleasantly.

I can’t think of anything to say. I look at him, at his sweet face, full of hope, and then I look back down at myself. I know nothing about normal. I cannot have a ‘normal’ conversation with this boy. I don’t know how.

But I try.

“Hi.”

“How are you today?” He asks.

“Good. How are you?” I ask in return.

“Oh, I am doing great. I am enjoying the wonderful weather and I got to see you smile for the first time in a long time.”

I blush. Oh, believe me, I blush. I hadn’t even realized that I was smiling. Now that he has called it to my attention, I cannot wipe the grin off my face. Because James is right. The weather is amazing and I am actually, genuinely smiling. What started out as a smirk has now turned into an authentic smile. It feels weird, smiling a real smile, instead of a smile that I put on my face because that’s what the occasion called for. I lean back and turn my face towards the vibrant blue sky and let the sun’s gentle rays tickle my nose.

I soak in the warmth, and wait for James to say something else. I don’t even notice that someone is standing in front of us until I hear the click of a photo being taken. I whip my head around to see Owen holding his phone out in front of him.

“What was that?” I ask, forgetting about my conversation with James.

“I just wanted to capture this moment. You two are finally talking to each other, congratulations.”

“I thought you were in a meeting,” I grumble, not pleased that this moment has been captured for eternity.

“It finished early.”

“So are you ready to go?” I ask, standing up. I pick up my backpack, sling it onto my shoulder, and walk towards the parking lot. I grab Owen’s arm on the way, not giving him an opportunity to continue to talk to James, or to answer my question.

“Seriously though, Cara, I’m proud of you.”

“Don’t talk about it. Or show that photo to anyone. Seriously.”

Owen is making me feel self-conscious about having a five minute conversation with James Howard. It was about the weather (mostly), for cripes sake. Not a big deal. This does not mean anything. Now I just have to convince Owen and James of that fact.