Part 5 (1/2)

48.

Rachel shakes her head helplessly. I tell her, ”I think I have an extra pair of flip-flops in my locker. Come with me after the bell.”

”Cora,” Rachel says with a gulp of air. ”What would I do without you?” She squeezes my arm and I smile broadly at her. It feels like the first real smile I've smiled in ages. My mouth muscles hurt but they're enjoying the exercise.

Rachel follows me to my locker, where she quickly switches shoes and continues to chortle. I watch her affectionately. This is how it used to be between us. How it should be.

Suddenly, a shadow falls across us. I look up; Rachel is still bent over, wriggling her foot into one of my flip-flops. Damian. He has stopped in front of me, his forehead crinkled. A long black trench coat waving around him, brus.h.i.+ng the tops of heavy black combat boots. I've been carefully ignoring him in art cla.s.s. It's not too hard; mostly Damian buries himself behind his easel, and we might as well be in different rooms. On different planets.

”Hey,” he says uncertainly. Rachel shoots up at the sound of a boy's voice. ”Hey,” he repeats, to Rachel this time.

I am frozen.

”Urn, hi,” Rachel says, scowling.

The three of us stand there awkwardly in front of my locker, Damian's hands shoved inside his pockets, I'm stone-still, with my history book in hand, not at all sure what to say next.

49.

”Well, I'll see you in cla.s.s,” Damian says, his voice cool as ice.

”Yeah, um, see you,” I reply. I sound like such a dolt.

”Whoa, what was that?” Rachel asks, turning to face me as Damian takes off, long loping strides carrying him down the hall.

”He was just saying hi, you know,” I stammer. ”We have art cla.s.s together.”

”You do?” Rachel asks, her eyes huge. ”Why didn't you tell me?”

”Well, it's not a big deal or anything.”

”It's a huge deal!” Rachel exclaims. ”He's a total waster. And your mom will freak!”

”I know. Look, it's nothing. He just said hi, is all,” I say weakly.

”Hmmm ... well, just be careful.” Rachel warns, then she kisses my cheek. ”Thanks for the flip-flops! I'll bring them back tomorrow.” And she bounces down the hallway.

I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding. That was weird. I wonder what Damian's deal is and why he won't leave me alone.

During geometry, as Mr. Lane drones on and on about planes and postulates, I start to think about the strange incident in the hall. Had Damian been looking for me? He's never

50.

once pa.s.sed my locker since school began. No, it has to have just been a coincidence. Right?

When the bell finally rings, I quickly head to my locker. As I am exchanging the notebooks and textbooks in my bag for the ones I need to take home, I spot Damian, in his long trench coat that flutters about him, gliding down the hall like some large black bird. He looks over at me and nods his head solemnly.

Again I wonder if he's been looking for me.

”Hi,” I say, and suddenly a major case of nerves descends on me, as he comes up alongside my locker.

He straightens and grins. ”Hey.”

I wait for him to say more, but Damian just stares at me, giving no indication that he is going to speak again. I suddenly feel a bit unsteady. The moment stretches out, interminable, uncomfortable. I s.h.i.+ft my bag from one shoulder to the other and shuffle my feet.

”How are your cla.s.ses:1” Damian finally asks, breaking the silence.

”My cla.s.ses?” I repeat. I must admit, the mundanity of this conversation is breathtaking. ”They're fine. Well, except for math. Geometry kind of sucks but, yeah, they're fine,” I pause. ”How about yours?”

”They're okay,” he responds. Then, silence.

”What are you taking?” I ask.

”You know, the usual,” he starts casually. ”Art, of course, English, calc; AP physics is kicking my b.u.t.t --”

51.

”AP physics?” I ask, cringing at the note of astonishment in my voice.

”Don't sound so surprised.” Damian smirks.