38
I’m at school super early. Thankfully, only the janitor’s here to judge me. I use my V56 key to get into Steve’s locker, then Huxley’s. Once I finish, I hold the key over a trash can, contemplating its fate. In the end, I keep it for now. For the memories.
And...you never know.
My next stop is our drama department’s prop room, and I shiver in disgust knowing that this is Ezra’s turf. I remember a couple I broke up last year, a pair of actors. All I had to do was go online and post bad reviews for one and glowing reviews for the other, and jealousy and histrionics took care of the rest. I yank a quaint wicker bench from a pile of random objects, perfect for an old lady’s garden, and tug it back to our brand-new TV studio. The bindings for half of my textbooks are falling off, but at least Ashland has a TV camera that can zoom in.
I set up the bench in position, facing the shiny new camera. I pull up a side table, where I place a CD player and two cans of Coke that I’m hoping won’t get warm and flat by this afternoon. I step back from my design and take in the odd contrast of the furniture against the green-screen wall. I’ve never been more proud of a scheme.
I wait in the control room during lunch, checking the clock obsessively, thinking that I may have the power to move the hands with my mind. But I don’t. So I wait some more.
At noon on the dot, Steve peeks his head into the studio. No strolling in for him. I crouch down behind the control panel stuffed with buttons and levers. He checks out the bench, walking around it, really inspecting it. It’s just a bench, I want to tell him. He realizes it’s not electrified or rigged to explode, and sits down. He presses Play on the CD player, per the note. The slow strings of “Bittersweet Symphony” seep out from the speakers.
“Hey,” Huxley calls from the entrance.
My breathing quickens, and I wonder if he feels the same. They are a beautiful couple to behold. Some people just fit right.
Steve stands up to greet her. “Hi.”
“This is some setup,” she says as she surveys the scene.
“I know.”
“I forgot that you knew my locker combination.”
“And you remember mine,” he says.
She approaches the bench, but doesn’t sit down. They both take a moment to look at the details. The Coke cans, the dark blue mood lighting.
“How long did it take you to do this?” he asks her.
“Me? Didn’t you do this?”
“Nope.”
“You didn’t slip a bottle of mouthwash and a note to come here at noon into my locker?” she asks. She pulls both from her pocket.
He does the same thing. “You mean this wasn’t you?”
They look around the TV studio. “Hello? If someone’s here, you better come out,” Steve yells to the room.
I clamp my hand over my mouth. I should’ve known there would be suspicion. I hear their footsteps getting closer to the control room. I find a cardboard box under the control panel and position it in front of me. Steve throws open the door.
“If someone’s here, this is kind of weird.”
Just go with it, I want to tell him. You’ll thank me later.
He creeps into the room, right up to the control panel. I can smell the rubber on his shoes.
“Is this some kind of sick joke?” he says to no one, although technically, I guess he’s talking to me.
“Steve,” Huxley says. “Come over here.”
He returns to the studio, and I go back to my spying position. “Why is there a bench here?”
“Steve.” Huxley laughs softly. She pulls the bottle of mouthwash and note from her pocket. Steve does the same thing.
“The bench, the mouthwash. ‘Bittersweet Symphony,’” she says.
His eyes widen in recognition. “It’s like Travis Weber’s party.”
“Our first kiss.”
“I was so nervous.”
“I was more nervous. My teeth were chattering.”
“I thought you were cold. So I gave you my jacket.” Steve finds the jacket I carefully left across the bench and covers Huxley’s shoulders.
“Who would go through all this trouble?” she asks. She sits on the bench. Their knees touch.
“Someone who wants to see us back together.”
“Would you fall into that category?”
Steve shifts his knees away from her, breaking the moment. “Hux, why did you try to pay my tuition for Vermilion? Who does that?”
I see her tense, her guard back up. “Someone who cares about you. I was trying to help.”
“Do you know how embarrassing that was? I know my family isn’t as rich as yours, but—”
“You never complained before when you’ve come on family vacations and received Christmas gifts.”
“This is different.”
“Why?”
“Because I want to go to Chandler!” he blurts out. “I want to play football. I love playing football.”
Huxley takes a deep breath and looks up at the mood lighting. “I know.”
“But I also love you.”
Their eyes are now locked on each other and having a separate conversation. Their bodies get closer, as if they’re on conveyor belts, en route to the proper, inevitable destination. It’s amazing how quickly they slip back into the groove. Maybe some couples can’t be broken, no matter how hard anyone tries.
“I miss you,” she says without her trademark Huxley poise. “You know, I think this is the first time we’ve ever really talked about this.”
“I like it,” he says. His strokes her hair behind her shoulder, and my heart does one of those gymnastics backflips. For the first time, I believe in Huxley and Steve.
“So what happens now?” Huxley asks. “What do we do?”
“We’ll figure it out.”
And then he leans in and kisses her.
I put my hand on the one switch I know how to use. It’s a lever that can broadcast the image recording on the shiny new camera into the shiny new TVs around school. Proof that Huxley and Steve are indomitable. Proof that I’m not a completely horrible person.
But I take my hand away, and while they’re making out, I sneak into the hall unnoticed. Even the number-one couple in school deserves some privacy.
39
The next day in Ms. Hardwick’s class, a group of girls, including Ms. Hardwick, gather around Huxley’s desk. They wouldn’t be callous enough to be talking about me, right? Ms. Hardwick’s still a teacher. I keep my nose in my textbook and eavesdrop.
“It was so sweet,” Huxley says. “He left a note in my locker saying ‘Let’s work things out. Meet me in the TV studio at lunch.’ And when I got there, he had re-created the scene of our first kiss. And I fell in love with him all over again.”
The girls aww; some lean their heads on each other’s shoulders. I remember wanting to bang my head into my desk after hearing and seeing all of Huxley’s and Steve’s sweeping fauxmantic gestures before. And now I created one. Life has a weird sense of humor.
“So is Steve still going to Chandler?” Ms. Hardwick asks.
“He is,” Huxley says. The murmuring between girls doesn’t faze Huxley one bit. “We’re going to try the long-distance thing and see how it goes. Steve is an amazing athlete, and he needs to be on the field.”
“Texas isn’t that far,” some girl says. “If any couple can make it, it’s you two.”
“We’ll have to see. If we’re meant to be together, then we will be together,” Huxley says. Calmness coats her voice; she’s just telling it like it is. “But I think we’ll make it.”
“Time to start class,” Ms. Hardwick says. “Everyone back to your seats.”