The Last Place

During our end-of-class talk time, I was determined to keep it cordial. Not friendly, exactly. I didn’t think there was any hope for a friendship between us. But then again, I’d never thought we’d be on a first-name basis, either. Go figure.

But Shea had other plans. “You’re not at all what I expected,” he told me in French.

I snorted. “And what did you expect?”

“Honestly?” I nodded. “I thought you were some bitchy girl who thinks she’s better than everyone else.”

“Oh, really? I thought you were an unfeeling, arrogant narcissist. Turns out I was dead on.” Who did he think he was, talking to me like that?

Shea laughed like I’d just told him a funny joke. “Now I see that you’ve only got that bite to cover up your weaknesses. And that I can understand.” I opened my mouth, struggling to find some sort of response, then snapped it shut. He looked amused. “Truce?”

I was still trying to figure out whether he’d just insulted me, so I simply stared at him. His amusement died and he scowled. I knew these to be signs of his temper brewing, and that was something I didn’t want to have to deal with that so I hurriedly said, “Yeah, truce.”

And then the bell rang. I scooped up my things and got out of there as quickly as I could. I didn’t know what was going on with Shea, but it was really unnerving me.

I ran into Carmen in the hallway- almost literally. I did a quick sidestep and barely managed to avoid collision. “Guess what?” she said in a hushed, but obviously excited tone.

“What?” I asked, pumping my voice full of sarcastic enthusiasm.

She stuck out her tongue but continued, undeterred. “Chase asked me to Homecoming.”

“I’m no gypsy, but even I could have predicted that.”

“Ash, you’re a major buzz kill, did you know that?”

“I try.” We pretended to glare at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter. This was nice, I thought. It wasn’t anything like what I’d had with Fallon; it was completely unique. I’d never had a girl friend before, someone to talk about boys with. Fallon, he hadn’t liked hearing about them. He’d always cover his ears and hum obnoxiously until I changed the subject. But Carmen? She wouldn’t let that subject rest for more than half an hour.

“So what’s going on with Shea?” she asked. And then maybe it was better not to talk about boys, I thought.

“Nothing.”

“Doesn’t look like nothing to me,” she said, nodding her head toward the other side of the hallway, where he was leaning casually against the wall and watching me. I snapped my head back to Carmen.

“We have a truce,” I admitted reluctantly. She was going to escalate this, I just knew it.

“A truce, eh? It’s a start.” She didn’t push it, and before I even had the time to wonder why, someone tapped my shoulder. I turned around automatically and was faced with Shea.

“Hi?” I said uncertainly.

“Aislin. I was looking at that French homework, and… do you think you could help me out with it? I must have forgotten more over the summer than I’d realized.”

“Yeah, I guess I can.” This seemed harmless enough. Still, I kept my eyes carefully away from Carmen; I didn’t even want to begin to imagine what her expression was like.

Shea smiled and my heart fluttered uncomfortably. “Alright. Meet me in the library at six?” I nodded mutely and he walked away.

“Some truce,” Carmen muttered. I ignored her and started heading back to our dorm room.

I did homework for the first hour, to keep my thoughts from wandering to Shea. It almost worked, too.

Unfortunately, I ran out of homework. Gosh, but I never thought I’d say that and mean it.