Although I shyly returned his smile and wave, I got more anxious as I walked toward him. Michael wore average-looking jeans and a black T-shirt, but he looked different—more mature, maybe—than the average Til ing-hast guy. Plus, I had this business of apologizing to address.
Michael’s warm smile made the apology a lot easier. I bit the bul et and said, “Hey, I feel real y bad about not recognizing you at first on Friday—”
He interrupted me. “Don’t mention it. It’s been three years, and we both look different. You especial y,” he said with an appreciative glance that made me blush. I hated to blush. He seemed to notice my discomfort, and rushed to lighten the mood by teasing me. “I hope I look different than I did three years ago, too. Maybe better?”
I laughed a little, but didn’t know what to say next. I never knew what to say to guys, unless it was about class work or organic farming. Obviously neither topic lent itself to casual banter, although normal y I didn’t mind. And anyway, I stil had this weird amnesia when it came to Michael and Guatemala, and I didn’t know how to avoid that topic in a conversation since it was our main common ground.
We stood in what seemed, to me, like an eternal awkward silence. To fil the void, I started walking down the hal , and he quickly fol owed. But the quiet final y got to me, and I blurted out, “So, your parents want to save the world, too?” I figured that he could relate if his parents dragged him on far-flung missions to Guatemala, like mine did.
“Something like that,” he said pleasantly enough. Maybe I had passed the first conversational hurdle. “We’ve traveled al over for their work, that’s for sure.”
“Did your family move here so your parents could teach at the university, M—?” I almost said his name, and then I stopped myself. Technical y, we hadn’t introduced ourselves, and I definitely didn’t want to admit that I’d discussed him with my parents, and got his name that way.
“We moved to Til inghast over the summer so my parents could work on a special project.”
“So it’s just a temporary move?” Even though I barely knew this guy, I felt disappointed that he might not be in town for long.
“We’re here until the project meets its goal, I guess.”
Before I could ask any other number of polite, conversational questions, he turned to me with a broad smile and asked, “So where are we headed?”
“English.”
“What are you reading?”
“Pride and Prejudice.”
“I had to read that for English last year. I thought my teacher would never stop talking about it. I think she’s stil looking for her Mr. Darcy.”
I had to laugh. I had heard the same thing about my English teacher, Miss Taunton.
We started talking about Pride and Prejudice, which I’d read on the long, hot Kenyan nights when there wasn’t much else to do. In fact, I had finished the assigned Pride and Prejudice and worked my way through al of Jane Austen over the summer. He asked me what I’d thought of the novel. I loved it, and he admitted that he’d found it slower than molasses and about as interesting. But he said it with the kind of smile that made me forgive him for having such a negative view on a book that I loved. I’d never had this kind of conversation with any other guy before. With anyone other than Ruth, actual y. My parents and their col eagues stuck to practical scientific texts and world issues, and my other friendships were of the superficial variety. And even though we didn’t agree, it was such a rush to find a guy that I could talk to—after so long pretending to myself and everyone else that I didn’t much care that I couldn’t speak the language of guys my own age.
Too soon, we stood near the entrance to my English class. I paused near the door. I felt awkward about how to break off. Would it be real y 1950s of me to thank him for walking me to class?
“Wel , it was real y nice seeing you again. . . .” I let the sentence drift off as I faced the uncertain business of whether I should say his name or not. I hoped he didn’t notice.
He did, of course.
“Michael. Michael Chase,” he interjected and then smiled that disarming smile again. “In case you forgot.”
“Right, right. Thanks, Michael. And I’m—”
“I know who you are. You’re El ie Faneuil.”
He started down the hal way toward his own class, but then turned back suddenly with a devilish grin. “Actu-al y, you’re Ellspeth Faneuil, aren’t you?” With a wave, he walked away.
Chapter Five
To my surprise, Michael sought me out each day that week. I’d step out of class, and he’d be waiting nearby. I’d pop out of lunch and head to my locker, and he’d be strol ing alongside me down the hal way. His constant attendance never seemed weird. In fact, his easy manner and our effortless conversations—mostly about classes—made it feel real y natural. By Friday afternoon, my reserve about him had chipped away.
Just before two o’clock, I stood in the back of gym, waiting for Ruth to join me before I sat down for the principal’s first assembly of the school year. The space was crowded with bleachers and chairs, instead of the usual sports equipment. Students were beginning to pour in.
I spied Missy and her usual entourage approaching my spot, and I just didn’t want to interact with them. So I slid away into a darkened corner next to the bleachers. From there, I could stil see the doors to the gym and catch Ruth’s attention when she arrived, but didn’t have to deal with any of Missy’s annoying, ongoing efforts at friendship.
As I watched the clock tick closer to two and the seats fil , I wondered where Ruth was. Ever punctual and organized, it wasn’t like her to be late.
Not to something like this. I didn’t dare take one of the few remaining chairs without her; she’d be furious at having to sit alone.
Ruth. Just thinking about her reminded me that I hadn’t mentioned Michael. Our somewhat conflicting schedules meant that she hadn’t seen me with him. And I hadn’t felt like tel ing her about our conversations yet. I just didn’t want to bump up against that overprotectiveness of hers when I wasn’t even sure that there was anything between Michael and me for Ruth to protect.
The clock hit two, and the principal strode across the stage. Craning my neck, I scanned the room to be certain that I hadn’t missed Ruth. The gym was packed with students, but no Ruth. I settled back into my little nook and waited. I would give her one more minute before I snagged one of the few open seats nearby. At this point, she’d have to understand.
Without warning, I felt a presence in my dark alcove. I hadn’t seen anyone approach my little corner, so I was confused by the sensation. I looked around. But there was no one standing to my left or right.
Then I felt a hand on the smal of my back. The light pressure sent chil s up my spine, and my heart started racing. I did not need to turn around to see who it was. Somehow I knew it was Michael behind me.
Removing his hand away from my back, he inched closer. “Is this spot taken?” he whispered, as he sidled up next to me.
We’d never been so close to each other. I felt like I could hardly breathe, let alone answer. Where had this strong, physical attraction to him come from? Over the past few days, I’d grown to real y like him, but I hadn’t experienced anything like this with him. Or anyone else, for that matter.
“No,” I final y managed, with a gulp.
“Good. Maybe I’l just stay here with you instead of sitting down, if that’s okay. That way, we can scoot out early.”
“Sure,” I answered with what I prayed was a calm voice. Even though I felt anything but calm.