I was in chemistry staring at Marcus again. I’d been watching him all month trying to decide if he would be good prom material. I needed someone cute, but with the deep, beautiful soul of an artistic panther. Someone who laughed softly like a crestfallen angel, who cried in a way that showed he was sensitive but not dweebish (lots of tears, zero boogers).
Marcus was super cute, but he seemed so ordinary. There he sat, mixing ingredients, taking notes, and using the Bunsen burner to carefully burn off his arm hairs one at a time. Just normal stuff. But did that unassuming exterior hide a broken soul, wounded by secrets and bullying and punches and death and torture and brutal treks across scorching deserts and insecurities about how much he loves cats and-
Damon, my lab partner, gently tapped my shoulder. I pulled myself out of my reverie and turned to look at him. He usually did most of the lab work by himself. I didn’t really need to do any lab work because my mom sold essential oils so obviously I was already really good at chemistry. Besides, he liked doing it by himself, or at least he had never told me otherwise. “Hey Hadley,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Could you um, I mean, could you…”
I sighed. Damon was okay, but he was just way too shy. I always tried to be nice to him, though. “Could I what?” I said, as gently as I could.
He flinched a little and said, “Um, it’s nothing.”
Darn it, I hadn’t been gentle enough again. I closed my eyes and tried to visualize how I would talk to him. Maybe I should talk to him like he was a helpless baby animal. What did Damon most remind me of? A puppy? No, that was too energetic. A kitten? Nah, a kitten would kick his butt. I pictured a kitten-Damon fight and inwardly shuddered as the Damon in my mind tried to crawl away from the angry kitten, whispering for help. Poor Damon. Then I had it. Damon was like a turtle. I pictured a frightened, whispering turtle. How would I get that turtle out of its shell?
I opened my eyes. Damon looked more lost and confused than ever. “Damon,” I said in my soft, turtle coaxing voice. “It’s okay. Don’t hide in your shell. What do you need help with?”
His hand shaking, he held out a beaker. “Could you hold while I pour?” he whispered. I nodded slowly so I wouldn’t scare him and carefully took the beaker. Poor little turtle. He carefully filled it and then added it to a container of something. It looked like he would be okay on his own for a while, so I turned back to Marcus.
Damon only needed my help with one more thing that day (writing our names on the lab sheet), so I was able to watch Marcus for the rest of class. He turned to look at something and I got a glimpse of his profile. Seriously, he was so cute, with cute blue eyes and a cute turn-up nose. Even his backpack was cute, a bright yellow with “You are my sunshine” written on the back in Sharpie. He’d also doodled little flowers along the bottom. Maybe on other guys it would look weird, but on him it totally worked.
When the bell rang, I headed out to the hall. It was the last class of the day and I wanted to get to my friend’s locker to tell her what Marcus had been wearing that day (blue button-down shirt) and give her an update on potential prom themes. I was on the student council, and so far my favorites were shoe-switch, where the boys wore strappy heels and the girls wore loafers, and first crush, where you had to dress as the first person you had a crush on.
I was halfway down the hall when I realized my cell phone wasn’t in my pocket. I must have left it in class. I quickly turned around and slammed right into Marcus. Books and magazines went flying everywhere. I kept trying to stand up, but every time I tried I would slip and fall on another book. So embarrassing. Everyone was laughing, except Marcus. He grabbed a book just as I was about to slip on it and quickly slid it in his yellow backpack. “Woah, careful there Hadley. That’s my mom’s book. Here, let me help you up.” He tried to pull me up, but I slipped on yet another book, and this time he came sliding down with me. He winced, then said, “Here, we’d better pick these up before you slip again.”
We started picking up the books. I had 20 different magazines, which I guess are really slippery. I had picked up the ones on my side so I glanced at Marcus to see what he was doing. He was holding a gardening magazine, his hands shaking. “Where did you get this?” he asked, his voice trembling.
“What’s the matter? Is something wrong?”
“No, it’s just..” He gulped, then shoved the magazine towards me. “It’s nothing,” he said, his voice more calm now.
“But clearly something is bothering you,”
He looked at me then, and his eyes were so sad. “No please, it really is nothing. Please don’t ask me again.” The urgency in his voice made me feel like I had to agree, so I nodded.
I thanked him for helping me and hurried back to chemistry to grab my phone. Once I had it, I texted Tiffany. “Sorry, be right there wait for me!”
I hurried to our lockers. Tiffany waved, grinning. She was wearing a gorgeous pink summer dress under her poncho, and her plastic bags were covering some strappy purple sandals. Tiffany worked tons of hours and with the money she saved she would buy the most expensive outfit that she could find at the mall every month, but ever since she had gotten permanent ink on a $400 blouse, she always wore a clear poncho and plastic bags on her shoes just in case.
“So guess what happened to me?” I asked excitedly.
“What? You’re submitting my night at the dry cleaners theme to the prom committee?” Tiffany thought it would be cool if everyone at the prom wore a plastic bag over their dresses and tuxes so everyone could avoid stains.
“No, I told you that they already have the list and they’re narrowing it down. What happened is I bumped into Marcus Smith in the hall!”
She squealed and jumped up and down a few times. “Oh my gosh, bumping into someone is so romantic!” Her brow furrowed for a second. “You didn’t spill anything on yourselves, did you?”
“No! But I kept slipping. It was embarrassing.”
“Are you kidding me? Slipping is so romantic! Guys love it when girls act like helpless clumsy grandmas with vertigo and bad memory, it brings out their protective instincts.”
I nodded slowly. “He did seem excited to help me.” I looked at the gardening magazine in my hands. Why had it freaked him out so much?
She glanced at my hands. “Is that a gardening magazine? Don’t let the teachers catch you with that.”
“Studying gardening is fine. I needed to do some research for my mom’s essential oils distillery.” Our private school was one of the best in the state, but they had some very strict rules. The rule Tiffany was worried about was the one that said students were absolutely not allowed to garden under any circumstances while in school. Dean Marsha believed gardening was a distraction, and if any students were caught gardening, they could be expelled from the school. It was a little weird, I guess, but at least we didn’t have to wear uniforms.
I studied the magazine cover. “Maybe Marcus was freaked out by the cover, too,” I said to Tiffany.
She clapped her hands excitedly. “That’s got to be it! It totally makes sense.” She leaned closer in a conspiratorial way. “Maybe you dropping your books everywhere made him start liking you, but then when he saw you were a rebellious student he suddenly got scared of his feelings for you!”
I considered this. “Maybe. I mean, he is a really good student. Should I explain to him that I don’t actually garden?”
She shook her head vigorously. “Noooo! Guys love it when they are afraid of falling in love with you! It triggers their flight or fight instincts against their own feelings, which makes them try to fight their feelings for you, which makes them want you all the more! You should do some more rebellious stuff like dye your hair blue and wear flip-flops to school.”
“I don’t know, I think I’ll just try to explain it to him.” Tiffany was the queen of love, but she only dated sons of billionaires. I wasn’t sure if her high-class tactics would work on a normal boy like Marcus.
She shrugged. “Your loss. Anyway, I need to head home. Do you want to come over?”
“Nah, I just wanted to see you before I go. I have to get to my student council meeting.”
I watched her head out the door, then I turned to make my way to the student council room.
