Status: Completely written- now, to post it all
The Last Place
09
“I was thinking we could go into town on Saturday, to pick out dresses,” Carmen said out of nowhere, trying to distract me, I think. I was probably pretty obviously tied up about meeting up with Shea.
Only two hours, forty-three minutes left.
“I’m not going to Homecoming,” I told her.
“What? Of course you are. I need my best friend there to support me.”
Her best friend? I fought a grin because it would ruin my objections. “No you don’t. I’ll just distract you from Chase.”
“That might be a good thing,” she said under her breath.
I rolled my eyes. Carmen was notorious for hopping from guy to guy. “Bored already?”
“I don’t like your tone, missy. It’s just that I realized that there’s no substance behind that pretty face of his. Besides, he’s a sloppy kisser. So if you don’t go, I’ll have to spend more time with him. And that’s not looking like much fun.”
“You forget that I don’t have a date.”
Now it was Carmen’s turn to roll her eyes. “Just ask Shea.”
“What?” I looked down at the wall, out the window- anywhere but at her. “No way.”
“The mouth says no, the blush says yes.”
“We’re not even friends, Carmen,” I groaned.
“So? What better way is there to become friends?”
“You’re impossible.”
“And you’re stubborn.”
I glanced at the clock and leaped up. “Dinner time,” I declared. “Let’s go.”
In the Dining Hall, I took Carmen’s seat today. It didn’t face Shea’s table like mine did. I didn’t want to look at him too much and give Carmen more fuel for her argument. “Oh, no you don’t,” she lectured when she reached the table. She stood behind my chair and tapped her foot, waiting for me to move.
“What? I felt like a change of scenery,” I said innocently.
“Cute. Now out.” I shoved my tray to the other side of the table and reluctantly moved. Before I could help myself, I glanced at Shea. He was watching me and smirking. Just what I needed.
“When are you going to admit that you’re attracted to him?” Carmen asked.
“When I do. So… never.” It wasn’t the most mature thing I could have said, but who could blame me? Carmen snorted in disbelief, but stopped pressing the issue, for now.
After dinner, it was already quarter ‘til six. I hurried back to my dorm, though Carmen complained about going so fast. I gathered together my French things and put them in my bag. I didn’t even realize I’d wandered over to the mirror and was messing around with my hair, trying to get it to lie right, until Carmen told me to stop primping.
It was times like these that I asked myself how it was that we were friends.
When I got to the library, I went automatically over to the table where Fallon and I used to sit every night after dinner. I took my seat and set out my things the way I liked them. I almost didn’t hear Shea approach.
He took hold of Fallon’s seat and started pulling it out, but I snapped, ‘No! Sit over there,” pointing to the other side of the table. He gave me a funny look, but obeyed. I felt instantly bad. “I’m sorry. That’s just...” I trailed off, hoping he wouldn’t make me finish, but I had no such luck.
“It’s what?”
“That’s Fallon’s seat,” I admitted.
Shea’s expression melted into one of concern. “You’re really messed up, you know that?” This was said kindly, and it was just the sort of thing I needed. It was more a statement of fact than one of pity.
“Thanks.”
“And… if you need to talk… I’m here.” I met Shea’s eyes and felt tears well up. Who was this and what was he doing in my lifelong rival’s body?
“Right… French. What did you need help with?” I asked, changing the subject.
Shea looked confused for a second, staring at his workbook. “I don’t- Oh, right. Well, that new verb tense, the subjonctif?” Good. This was something I could do. I started explaining, but Shea’s eyes were on me more than they were on his paper.
Only two hours, forty-three minutes left.
“I’m not going to Homecoming,” I told her.
“What? Of course you are. I need my best friend there to support me.”
Her best friend? I fought a grin because it would ruin my objections. “No you don’t. I’ll just distract you from Chase.”
“That might be a good thing,” she said under her breath.
I rolled my eyes. Carmen was notorious for hopping from guy to guy. “Bored already?”
“I don’t like your tone, missy. It’s just that I realized that there’s no substance behind that pretty face of his. Besides, he’s a sloppy kisser. So if you don’t go, I’ll have to spend more time with him. And that’s not looking like much fun.”
“You forget that I don’t have a date.”
Now it was Carmen’s turn to roll her eyes. “Just ask Shea.”
“What?” I looked down at the wall, out the window- anywhere but at her. “No way.”
“The mouth says no, the blush says yes.”
“We’re not even friends, Carmen,” I groaned.
“So? What better way is there to become friends?”
“You’re impossible.”
“And you’re stubborn.”
I glanced at the clock and leaped up. “Dinner time,” I declared. “Let’s go.”
In the Dining Hall, I took Carmen’s seat today. It didn’t face Shea’s table like mine did. I didn’t want to look at him too much and give Carmen more fuel for her argument. “Oh, no you don’t,” she lectured when she reached the table. She stood behind my chair and tapped her foot, waiting for me to move.
“What? I felt like a change of scenery,” I said innocently.
“Cute. Now out.” I shoved my tray to the other side of the table and reluctantly moved. Before I could help myself, I glanced at Shea. He was watching me and smirking. Just what I needed.
“When are you going to admit that you’re attracted to him?” Carmen asked.
“When I do. So… never.” It wasn’t the most mature thing I could have said, but who could blame me? Carmen snorted in disbelief, but stopped pressing the issue, for now.
After dinner, it was already quarter ‘til six. I hurried back to my dorm, though Carmen complained about going so fast. I gathered together my French things and put them in my bag. I didn’t even realize I’d wandered over to the mirror and was messing around with my hair, trying to get it to lie right, until Carmen told me to stop primping.
It was times like these that I asked myself how it was that we were friends.
When I got to the library, I went automatically over to the table where Fallon and I used to sit every night after dinner. I took my seat and set out my things the way I liked them. I almost didn’t hear Shea approach.
He took hold of Fallon’s seat and started pulling it out, but I snapped, ‘No! Sit over there,” pointing to the other side of the table. He gave me a funny look, but obeyed. I felt instantly bad. “I’m sorry. That’s just...” I trailed off, hoping he wouldn’t make me finish, but I had no such luck.
“It’s what?”
“That’s Fallon’s seat,” I admitted.
Shea’s expression melted into one of concern. “You’re really messed up, you know that?” This was said kindly, and it was just the sort of thing I needed. It was more a statement of fact than one of pity.
“Thanks.”
“And… if you need to talk… I’m here.” I met Shea’s eyes and felt tears well up. Who was this and what was he doing in my lifelong rival’s body?
“Right… French. What did you need help with?” I asked, changing the subject.
Shea looked confused for a second, staring at his workbook. “I don’t- Oh, right. Well, that new verb tense, the subjonctif?” Good. This was something I could do. I started explaining, but Shea’s eyes were on me more than they were on his paper.