Soria Girl

So one Friday, Mike and I met up before school on the benches in front of the main building. It was the Friday of a three-day weekend – Monday was a planning day for the teachers. Michael was giddy and talkative like always.

“You goin’ anywhere tonight?” he asked casually.

I shook my head. “I’m goin’ home, I guess.”

His face split into a huge grin. “You wanna go to Mr. G’s?”

Okay. Mr. G’s is a family-owned friendly neighborhood pit-stop food place. It’s like a mini fast food restaurant. Strategically, it’s about midway between the school and the pier, only about a quarter mile from where I lived.

I shrugged. “Why not.”

His smile got even bigger. “Cool. What time d’you wanna meet up?”

I rolled my head. “Uhhhh…I dunno. Five?”

Michael nodded. “Alright then. Five it is. We’ll meet there.”

And that, my dear friends, is how I got into one of the craziest nights of my life.

- - -

I left the house at around four-thirty. I told my Dad that I was meeting up with Michael, and although he remained skeptical, he let me go. I guess it helped that I stayed overnight at his house.

I rode my bike to Mr. G’s (every kid in this area knew where it was) and ended up there at around ten to five.

And while I cycled along, I dazed off in thought.

Maybe I shouldn’t have been such a cutoff. I mean, I kept thinking that someday I’d move back to Claymore and me and Ren could get back together. It wasn’t like that. I had that hope. That hope that wouldn’t go away, no matter how stupid it was. It was no use, hoping.

Maybe…maybe I should have just let it go. Let Ren go. Let it all just go…

“Hey Soria! What’s up?”

Michael was approaching me. I was sitting on one of the picnic tables outside the restaurant, idling around. When I saw him I snapped out of thought, smiled, and waved.

Maybe…

“Hey McEwin,” I said.

He walked like he knew he was the shit, swaggering with a big ol’ swing in his step. God. He looked like a king at his height. He wore a tighter-than-normal Social Distortion shirt. From day to day he always wore either a flannel shirt with rolled-up sleeves, or a big-ass t-shirt.

Yeah, I was so doing this.

The gleam in his eye was even more alive tonight than normal. My heart was speeding. All that time I’d pushed those thoughts away but now I’d let them take over. It was a thrill, really. It was like being at school before the first day of summer. Curiosity. I could be living every girl’s fantasy – having a sweet, caring, unusually good-looking ginger kid as a boyfriend.

I don’t know why all those hormones suddenly took over; I blame the destruction of the boundaries in my brain. It was so freaky to think like that, and at the same time it was cool.

“Dig the shirt,” I said, speaking as both a Social Distortion fan (thanks to Luke) and a teenage girl.

He grinned. “Thanks. I wore it for you.”

A shiver went up my spine. “Cool.”

Michael was standing right in front of me. He was so close he could have reached out and hugged my knees. “You wanna get somethin’ to eat?”

I nodded. He stood by as I slid off the picnic table, careful not to tear a hole in my pants. I did a weird little dance when I checked and he laughed loudly, so I slapped his arm.

“You are so weird,” he teased, ruffling my hair.

“Aw, shaddap,” I smirked.

Michael opened the entrance for me and we went in. Nobody was in Mr. G’s except for the family’s perky twenty-something-year-old daughter who ran the cash register. She shot us a forced smile when we came in, curly black hair in a wild animated mane springing everywhere. “Hi, how are you?” she said.

“Good, good,” Michael smiled. He leaned over to me. “What do you want?”

I shrugged, reaching into my pocket. “Dunno. Guess whatever six bucks’ll get me,” I snickered.

He took it upon himself to pull my hand out of my own pocket. “I’m paying,” he added. This time, I didn’t yank it back like I normally would have.

“Well, okay then,” I smirked.

We stared up at the menu board for a moment. I never came here in the past to eat. Michael elbowed me. “You wanna split a thing of nachos?”

I shrugged. “Alright.”

So we got this big-ass plate of nachos smothered in cheese and this lumpy green crap (“The hell is this, alien guts?”) and Michael ate most of it. Honestly, they weren’t that good.

By the time we were done, the sun was setting fast. It was getting dark and I told Michael my dad would be pissed if I got home late.

“Ah, don’t worry,” he said, “you got a cell phone, right?”

I shrugged. “Well, yeah, but…”

He got up and migrated over to my side of the table. He sat right next to me, dangerously close. “You can call ‘im and tell ‘im you got abducted by aliens.”

I laughed a little. Now the butterflies were bodybuilders. “I dunno if that’d work.”

Michael casually laid an arm around my shoulder like we were still just buddies, though that wasn’t the vibe I was getting. Despite his warm body pressing against my shoulder, something wasn’t all pork and beans.

He stared up at the sky. “The night looks so beautiful here.” Oh, shit, I thought. Or at least, half of me thought. The other half of me was thinking, holy shit.

“Yeah,” I agreed, a quiver in my voice.

“I mean, the sunset over the ocean…the buildings…the cars…all makes you feel so tiny, you know? I mean, you’re already fun size, but…” he smiled.

I punched his shoulder. He laughed some more and held me tighter.

“Really. It’s so amazing.”

It made me wonder how he could just shoot stuff from out of nowhere like that like some kind of movie. I just sat back and breathed his voice in like waves in the ocean.

“Yeah,” I said again.

“Yeah,” he sighed, rolling his head.

We went quiet. Just, there. Just us. Just a couple of kids on a picnic bench in an obscure family owned restaurant in Santa Monica. Not even specks to astronauts. You’d need a big-ass telescope to see us from space. But when I had a kid who had my back, I felt larger than life and like I could take on the freakin’ world.

“Guess we don’t matter when there’s six billion more people in the world,” Michael sighed.

“Yeah, we matter,” I countered.

“Hm,” he said quietly.

I almost fell asleep. My heartbeat had slowed down dramatically, surprisingly, and Michael felt like a pillow, so comfortable, but I dunno why. There was a buzz in my brain that kept me from completely relaxing. Guess it was my natural instincts.

“Ya awake?” he whispered.

I nodded, but almost nodded off.

He rubbed his thumb up and down my shoulder gently. A shiver shot out from my heart to all my limbs as he rested his head softly on my head. I shuffled a little bit, not completely sure of whether or not I should have let it go.

I looked up at him for a second. He was looking at me. Not smiling, per se, but beaming in a way. His eyes gleamed, hazel eyes with the California sun embedded within the pupils.

I heard and felt him breathe in deep and I couldn’t look away.

Michael leaned over and almost kissed me.

My mind was racing faster than it ever had in that split second when his lips were centimeters away from mine. My eyes were open; I saw freckles and orange peach fuzz and the bill of his Castro cap in a rushed blur. It happened so fast.

I’ll put it simply: it didn’t feel right.

Before I had the right to tell others that I had my real first kiss, I wrestled out of the slight grip Michael had on my hands, and I leapt off the picnic table, my heart pounding fiercely.

I left him hanging, man. Looking back, I’m thinking about how rude that was. As soon as I regained my wits (sort of), all I can remember was seeing Michael sitting on the table, mouth pressed into a line, cheeks flushed an intense red. Palms up, as if proposing, “What the hell was that for?!”

For a second I felt pity. Damnit, I blocked that kid for so long from being more than a friend to me, I let it go one night, and then I pretty much kick him in the balls and say, “Ha ha, you fell for it.” Crap!

Michael had hollowness in his eyes when he stared at me. When I stared back, time absolutely stopped.

“Wha…” he started.

I stuttered for a while, not really saying anything. He needed an answer – or, more accurately, an explanation. But I was past severely inarticulate.

“Mike…” I sighed, finally, trying to get it together. “I…I just…”

“I’m real sorry,” he said quietly.

“What…?”

He exhaled slowly, folding his hands, looking at the floor. “…Soria, I like you. A whole lot.”

Aw, shit…

“Like, like like?” I asked.

He nodded and bit his fingernail. “A lot. I mean, a lot. You were the first girl I ever met who liked the same stuff I liked.”

I went quiet; I didn’t know what to add.

“I felt somethin’, Soria. I wanna be with you.”

I froze on the spot. I never told Michael at all about Ren and the guys back home. I didn’t want him to think I was hung up on it. Maybe it was time to tell the truth.

“Mike…” I sighed heavily. “I…there’s…back in Claymore…”

What should I have said? I got a boo back home? There’s someone else? I’m real sorry Michael, and im’ma let you finish, but Ren Hawker is one of the best boys of all time? Of all TIME???

“Yeah?” he urged.

I closed my eyes. I couldn’t look at him without crying. “Back home…there was a boy…”

He sat up straight and his eyes got wide. “Oh!”

I didn’t know whether or not I should have finished, but I did anyway. “And before I moved, he said he liked me…and…and I dunno…I really like him back…”

I said I didn’t know because I didn’t want to say anything else because I was so close to crying. The tears were collecting in my eyes and I had to fight to not wipe them. The last thing I wanted was pity. But my lip was quivering and my knees were shaking and my heart was pounding and I could not keep it in. I broke down.

Through my covered face I heard Michael get up from the table. I prayed he wasn’t walking away, and thank the lord, he wasn’t. Within a few seconds he had me in a big hug, shushing me.

“You got your heart in Florida,” he said. “I understand.”

I wrapped my arms around his waist and held him close, thankful that I still had a friend.

“I’m sorry kid,” he added. “You’re a great girl even if you don’t know it. That dude’s one lucky bastard. I’m just…I’m real sorry I had to be all touchy-feely with you when you were so uncomfortable with it. I’m…bad at being subtle.”

I sniffed. “Mmhmm.”

He hugged me even tighter. “You didn’t live in Florida all your life, right?”

I shook my head and squeezed out a weak no.

“Oh.” He ran a hand through my hair. “Well, then, I know there’s somethin’ there.”

Something there…I should have asked him to clarify, because honestly I had no idea what he meant. I still don’t.

I broke away from his grasp and sighed, just staring at the boy I broke the heart of. I almost couldn’t. It hurt so bad. I felt like shit.

“Michael…I’m sorry. I just…I dunno, wanted to be your friend but didn’t want anything else, ‘cause I kept thinkin’ -”

“Shh,” Michael hushed. “Relax. I understand. I’m still sorry for makin’ you uncomfortable.” He pulled me back into his arms. But I just couldn’t find it in me to hug back again.

I didn’t speak. I couldn’t. The crying made me numb.

He sighed in my ear. “Do you still wanna be friends?”

My throat was dry, so I just nodded.

“Alright then.” He let go and I wiped my eyes. “I won’t try nothing then.”

I shrugged. I was about to say that if by some odd chance me and Ren got in a fight we could try it, but I didn’t want to sound indecisive, so I shut up. Plus, when I got my head on straight, I’d realized that Mike couldn’t even compare to Ren in any way that I needed. I’d rather be hurting alone than pretending to be happy with anybody else who was better off as a friend.

Michael managed a smile, but the gleam in his eye was almost gone. It was only a man-made flicker that was just a reflection of the streetlights.

“May I walk you home?” he asked, smirking again.

I grinned back. “Yeah.”

Living proof that neither chivalry nor punk was dead.