Hey,
Hopefully the last installment of this short story. If it's not, I'm out of ideas. The whole idea of joining that contest with "Girls" was to stretch my abilities, and I assure you, I have done that with the help of my reviewers. Another round applause.
I hope you enjoy the conclusion.
Want to read "Girls?" viewtopic.php?t=75328
Want to read "Boys?" post818752.html#p818752
First period... Science, a teacher constantly on a coffee high, spewing eco-friendly crap, and, hopefully soon, Lila, right beside me.
Just as the bell rings, Lila stumbles into the classroom, bleary eyed and moody.
"Miss Armstrong, you made it on time for once. Congrats." The teacher smiles and begins role.
Lila drops her backpack, slinging it from her shoulders, and sits down silently, putting her head in her arms. Science never was her thing.
I take notes for her... er... I did take notes for her. I glance at the picture I'm working on and frown at Lila once again. It's unnatural, even at this hour in the morning, in her worst class of the day, for her to be so... muted. “Lila...” I murmur, raising my hand as my name is called, “What can I do to make whatever I did up to you?”
She doesn't answer.
I shade a little of my drawing, still finding that it's not good enough, that something's missing. “Lila?”
Silence.
We should add 'clueless in social situations' to my failures in life.
A heavy hand falls down on my shoulder.
Not today. Any day. Just not this one. Please, leave me alone.
I groan and look at the teacher, finding her thoroughly enthralled with the science nerds up front, shaking the very last drop of coffee from her Styrofoam cup. Have you heard what those do to the environment?
“Hey, Marcus. How's it goin'?” Jason Lineburger, Abigail's boyfriend, lots of muscle, no brain. We've gone over this before. Did I mention he's picked me out of a very large group of geeks to emphasize his superiority? Science is a killer.
I fake a smile, shooting Lila pleading looks, and mutter, “Great... until you got here.” I almost clap a hand over my mouth. What have I done? He's never going to leave now.
He sits in the empty chair beside me and rests his arm on my sketch pad. “Look, I don't have the time for this crap today.”
I scoff and point out, seeing as I'd already gone past the point of no return, “You're still here.”
He ignores me and continues with an eyeroll. “Abigail gave you a ride yesterday.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Yeah. I needed one.”
“You aren't-” He sighs and runs a hand over his face. “Listen, you'll never forget it, if you mess around with her.” He
shakes his head. “She's all I've got.”
“Oh...” All you've got? Popularity, looks, athleticism. Do those not matter anymore? I nod. “It's nothing like that. She's not my type.”
He opens my sketch book with a soft sigh of relief.
My heart constricts.
He flips through it and gives me an impressed look. “I always knew you two were going to get together. Good catch. I have no idea what she sees in you.”
Lila lifts her head a bit, only to lower it when the teacher starts the lesson.
Jason leaves, and I take my sketch book back.
I smile, impressed with my own genius. I look over the nineteen pictures and write on the first blank page, It makes sense, if it's in motion.
At the end of class, I put the notes and my sketch pad beside Lila's arm and walk away, hearing the pages flip in quick succession as I nod farewell to the teacher and exit the room.
. . .
Lunch. Canned peas and- I've already done that one. My witty meter is running low today.
I give Abigail a strained smile as I wait outside our Calculus class. My heart sinks as the crowd thins out in the hall, and Lila still hasn't come to meet me. I'm a loser, and that's all there is. I could have sworn I had gotten her down, had figured out what makes here tick, and here I am, facing the rejection and loss of my best friend.
I trudge to the cafeteria, the distance suddenly farther than China. I slam my backpack down and sit down, too disappointed to eat. I hear giggles and glance beside me, only to look away. Ah... The gaggle.
There's an outbreak of whispering from beside me, a terrible illness.
I look again and ask, hoping that her finger got cut off in woodshop, “Have any of you seen Lila?”
They all giggle again and nudge one girl to answer, I suppose.
“She's-” The girl began to laugh, even snorting a bit. “She was in third period.”
“Oh...” I nod and study them all curiously as they burst into another fit of giggles. Shaking my head, I leave for the library, where at least things are quiet.
. . .
The last bell of the day, the freedom cry for all highschoolers anywhere. That wonderful F concert pitch that might just beat a teacher to their homework assignment. I think there's a two hour delay on that stupid thing.
I wander out of the school, wondering how I'm going to get home today, and scan the parking lot for Lila's beat up Camaro. Moses drove that thing. I'm not sure how I talk myself into getting into it everyday. Of course, like Lila, it's missing in action.
I sigh and lean against the wall, studying the blue sky, willing it to rain just for the mood of the moment.
“Hey there, Picasso.”
I look up, unable to withhold the largest grin of my life, and look upon Lila, standing beside the newest of her motorcycles with two helmets resting on the seat. “Hey.”
She flips through my sketchbook and shakes her head. “This is ingenious.”
I nod. “Yeah. It took forever.” Every picture is a letter hidden in plain sight, unless you flip through it quickly. Will you go out with me?
She tosses me the book with a smile.
I flip through it as well and stop at the page after the question mark, which was a picture of us riding on a lime green bike with blue flames with me, in a moment of hopeful fantasy, in front, driving of into the sunset. The road curves into a punctuation.
Scrawled in the exact center of the next page, in her chicken scratch handwriting, was a small yes. I take a deep breath of wonder and study the bare bike that looks more questionable than the Camaro. “Am I riding this thing home with you?”
She spins the keyring on her finger and asks, “Want to drive?”
I take the keys with a surprised blink and say, "Girls don't make sense."
She laughs. "Boys are stupid."
