We're Doin' Alright

Cameryn's POV

My first two weeks of school were slow and uneventful. I ended up having the second half of my schedule with Sage in every class (save for seventh period), which I still haven’t decided is a good thing or a bad thing. Right now, I’m in my sixth period English class. The teacher’s been droning on and on about something to do with Shakespeare, which definitely is not my thing. I entertained myself by tapping my pencil incessantly on my desk all the while receiving glaring looks from the students around me. Who knew there would be so many easily irritated people in Minnesota?
I continued my tapping, not really caring for the comfort of the people around me. I noticed a few of the glares turning more towards the back of the room and turned as well to see who the new glare victim was, all while keeping up my tapping rhythm. I smiled when I saw Sage was now tapping his own pencil on his desk in a beat different than mine, but still with the same back beat. It was as if we were creating some song that was familiar to us both in our heads. I smiled and turned back around in my seat and kept up with my rhythm, now also taking notice to Sage’s beats behind me. Not more than two seconds later, I heard a third pencil coming from my left. Sabrina was now tapping as well, looking straight ahead of her as though she wasn’t doing anything. She gave a small smile, knowing she was being watched, and continued looking at our English teacher who hadn’t noticed anything at all. Our beats became more complicated and sounded like a parade of drummers playing as they walked through the seats of a bustling city. Other students joined in as well, and eventually, when nobody in the class was paying attention to Mr. Boring, he stopped talking and turned away from the board.
All taps immediately stopped and the whole class looked at him innocently. He scanned the room, looking for the one kid that looked like they may be causing trouble. After finding nothing, he turned back around and went back to teaching. A number of people began giggling or snickering, not being able to hold it in any longer.
The rest of class went on in the same manner with no annoying tapping or giggling. In the last five minutes, a paper was passed out with big letters on the heading that read, “POETRY PROJECT”. I internally groaned. This doesn’t sound like it’d be the slightest bit of fun. “Ok, class,” the teacher whom I still had not bothered to learn the name of began. “For this project you will be assigned partners. You will be working in class and out of class if need be. All of the instructions and due dates are on this paper,” he held up the piece of paper he had just handed out before turning and picking up a clipboard with what I assumed to be the partner list. “James, you will be with Patrick. Jessica and Cara. Cindy and Alana…” I tuned him out and began thinking about the project. I really hope I’m assigned to Sabrina. She’s the only person I actually talk to on a normal basis in this class. By my second day here, I realized she was in all of my afternoon classes, which caused us to become friends rather quickly. “Sabrina and Michael,” I frowned. Of course she would be put partnered with someone else. I’ve never had the best of luck. I continued to listen to the teacher expecting my name to come up soon. And that it did.
“Cameryn and Sage.”
I had the sudden urge to cover my face with my hands and groan, but that would be inconsiderate and rude, for most people, including Sage, would not know my real reasons for my frustration. It’s not that I don’t like Sage. The problem is that I do like Sage. I can see this project doing nothing but causing problems. A part of me was excited knowing I’d get to spend one on one times with him, but another part of me knows that nothing can ever happen with us. The negative parts of my thoughts were trying to beat my positive thoughts back into hiding, but they were too hopeful and proud, therefore would not go away.
I looked back at Sage, who smiled at me seeming to be ecstatic to be working with me. I smiled back at him and turned back around just as the bell rang releasing us for our next class. I grabbed my bags and stood to see Sage waiting by my desk. “So,” he started. “When do you wanna start this project thing?”
“Um, I’m free today if that’s alright,” I replied as we entered the hallway.
“That’s cool with me,” he smiled that gorgeous, flashy smile of his. “My house?”
“Sure,” I looked up at him. “Is it okay if we stop by Stephanie’s first? She asked me to help her pick out an outfit for her date tonight.” Stephanie had been the first and only person to learn of my sexuality in this town. She took it rather well, insisting now that I help her choose outfits and stating and I quote, “This means we can have sleepovers and I can change in front of you and not feel awkward about it!” to which she received a ‘seriously?’ look. However, she didn’t seem to notice seeing as she just continued to ramble on about how ‘cute’ I was or how she didn’t feel weird telling me how adorable I was anymore. The conversation ended with me raising an eyebrow at her and her just shrugging in response.
“Yeah, that’s fine,” Sage answered me.
“Thanks,” I said stopping in front of my next class. “She would kill me if I didn’t show.”
He laughed and waved to me before I entered the French V classroom. I sat down in my seat and pulled out the piece of paper that explained the poetry project so I could get the just of what we were to do. It seemed to be a long, boring process, but that could be tolerated if it meant being with Sage.
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Sage and I stood at the front of the school waiting for Stephanie. She’s usually late because her last period is theater but she’s usually not THIS late. I sighed looking at my phone for the time. There was a small little envelope in the top left corner indicating I had a new message.
Steph;): Had to stay after. Chocs wants to run over scenes with me for the upcoming play. Will you get Stella and take her home for me? You can chill there till I get home, which should be round 5.
Me: Of course. Sage is coming to by the way.
“Stephanie’s not coming. Chocs held her back for something,” I told Sage referring to the school’s slightly intimidating theatre teacher. I’d only met him once and he’s already yelled at me for wearing a hat inside. Stephanie swears up and down that he’s ‘like, the nicest teacher here’ but I think that only applies to his precious theatre students, and even then, only the ones with talent.
“Okay,” Sage nodded. “So, are we just gonna go over there later or…?” he trailed off.
“She asked for us to get her sister and take her home,” I said giving Sage an unsure glance. Stella’s Stephanie’s little sister. She’s in seventh grade at the middle school a little down the street. I’d met her before since I’ve made a habit of walking to Stephanie’s house with her every day after school and we’d always stop at the middle school to pick up Stella, but I’d never been alone with her, and the poor girl is shy enough around me. She barely ever speaks and I think I’ve only ever heard her utter a few short words to Stephanie and that’s all.
“That’s fine,” Sage smiled.
Together, we began walking in the direction of the middle school. We walked in silence, which was driving me a bit crazy. I looked around me trying to find something, anything, to break the silence before I exploded from the thick pressure of silence. “What electives are you taking?” my voice sliced through the pressure.
“Modern music, French III, and I have a free period,” he answered. “You?”
“Dance, Art, and French V,” I replied.
“I’ve got three questions for you now,” I gestured with my hands for him to continue. “You’re fluent in French?” Sage asked seemingly surprised.
I nodded. “Almost. There are a few phrases and sayings that I don’t understand.”
“Impressive,” he replied stroking his non-existent beard. I chuckled at his mock seriousness. “Question 2: You dance?” I nodded. “For how long?”
I smiled trying to remember the first time my mum took me to a class. “A loooooooong time. I don’t even remember my first class.”
“Hmmmm,” he again stroked his “beard”. “I’m going to have to test your talents… I just don’t know how yet…” he trailed off in attempt to sound suspenseful. “Alright! Moving on!” he exclaimed in a much louder tone. “You draw?”
“That I do,” I smiled at him.
“Ooh! I wanna see something!” he jumped up and down like a five year old. I laughed at him and reached into my messenger bag and searched for the sketchbook with the black spiral with the bright decorated letters on the front that read “Minnesota, Junior Year”. I had one for everywhere that we went. I’ve been collecting sketchbooks since I was nine years old and never once did I fail to fill one before I moved once again. I probably had at least ten that sat on a bookshelf in my room.
I opened my sketchbook to the picture I had drawn of Stephanie a few days previous. She had been sitting on her knees on the ground in the middle of the rug in her room. She was looking at the ground to the right of her where she held a piece of the rug in her hands as though inspecting it (in reality, she’d found a fuzz that came from her dress). Her white sundress was spread out equally around her as if it were a light that was slowly growing brighter, her wavy brown hair falling around her and a small smile etched on her face. I captured the actual digital picture with my phone, thinking she looked absolutely beautiful. After going home and observing the picture once again, I came to the conclusion that I had to draw it. Out came the graphite pencils and within an hour or so, the once blank page was turned into, not to toot my own horn, but an almost mirror image of the picture of Stephanie. It’s become my favourite out of all the pictures I’ve drawn before. I’ve never been able to get the shading and tints quite that perfect before, but this picture had turned out perfectly.
I handed the sketchbook to Sage and took in his appearance as he stared at the open page. For a long time, he said nothing; just stared at the page. I began to become self-conscious. Was it bad? I’d thought I’d well, but I could’ve been wrong.
“Wow,” he said under his breath. Is that a good wow or a bad wow? I really hope it’s a good wow. “This is amazing,” he answered my thoughts. “I’ve… I’ve never met somebody who could draw like this. Have you… have you showed Stephanie this?” he asked, his voice finally reaching a normal volume range. I shook my head no. “Well, you definitely should. She’d probably freak out,” he chuckled.
“Thanks,” I smiled shyly at my feet as I felt heat rise to my cheeks.
“You’re very welcome,” Sage handed me my sketchbook back. I slipped it into my bag just as we turned the corner into the middle school. I spotted the figure of a girl sitting on the steps and immediately placed her as Stella.
As we approached, she stood from her seated position and began walking towards us. “Hey, Stella, “I greeted her when we met in the middle. “Did your sister text you?” She nodded in response. “Alright, then. I’m assuming you know what’s going on?” Again, she nodded. “Did you wanna stop somewhere before we go home?” She shook her head no this time. “So you just want to go home?” she nodded once again and began walking towards her house. (See? I told you, the kid doesn’t talk much, if at all.) Sage and I followed close behind Stella in a comfortable silence until we reached her house.
She unlocked the door and left it open for us to come in, but had retreated upstairs to her room before I’d even closed the door. “I guess we should go to Steph’s room?”
“Probably,” Sage agreed and led the way up the stairs.
Once in her room, I went to the stereo and turned on the radio as Sage plopped down on her bed. I sat across from him with my legs crossed and looked at him. “What should we do?” I didn’t do well with boredom. It got to me and killed me slowly like some sort of disease.
“Well, we could start on our project,” I scrunched my nose up in disapproval, “Or you could use your amazing drawing skills and draw me,” he smirked. I considered the thought, finding nothing wrong with the idea, and reached for my sketchbook that was currently in my bag next to the bed. “Are you really going to do it?” he asked surprised.
“Yeah, why not? There’s nothing else to do,” I answered shrugging my shoulders nonchalantly and opening the sketchbook to a new page.
“I didn’t think you’d actually do it, but okay,” Sage chuckled.
After preparing for the picture by getting a few pencils and a large eraser, I looked at Sage deciding how I would want him to pose. He raised an eyebrow as if wondering why I was staring at him, but I ignored and kept coming up with different poses in my head before deciding on one. “Turn your head and look out of that window,” I directed pointing to the window behind Sage’s head. He did as he was told and set his legs out straight in front of him, his back leaning against the edge of the headboard. “Perfect,” I smiled. “Now, try not to move.” I began to sketch his figure, the lines of my pencil coming out in scurried light strokes. We sat in silence as I drew for a few moments before the silence started to get to me. “Let’s play twenty questions,” I said still drawing.
Sage chuckled. “I thought you were drawing me?”
“I am, but I hate silence,” I laughed. “So, question one: How old are you?”
“Seventeen. I turn eighteen in December,” he answered. “What about you?”
“I just turned sixteen about a month ago,” I answered. I noticed his face scrunch up in confusion (he’s lucky I’m not drawing his face right now) and decided to answer his unasked question. “I went to school in France and we moved at a faster pace. When I moved here, I was ahead of everyone else so they moved me up a grade.” His mouth made a shape of an ‘o’ that showed he understood. “Do you have a girlfriend?” was my next question.
“Not at the moment,” I’m not going to lie; my heart just might have soared at his words. “I already know you don’t have a girlfriend,” we’d all discussed it before at lunch, “so I’m just going to ask my next question.” I waited for him to continue. “Do you like Stephanie?”
“Well, of course. She is pretty much my best friend,” I answered completely oblivious.
Sage looked away from the window and to me with a ‘don’t bs me’ look. “You know what I meant.”
I stared at him for a second, not completely understanding, but then it hit me. “You mean, do I fancy her?” I asked incredulously.
“Well, yes. If you were to put it into British terms, do you fancy her?” he put on a horrible British accent.
“Well, it makes sense considering I’ve lived in the U.K. for half of my life,” I smiled, going back to my drawing.
“Really?” he looked disbelieving, obviously thrown off by my American accent. I nodded my head going back to my drawing that was now only missing a face and details. “You’re just full of surprises aren’t you?” he inquired shaking his head.
“Maybe I am,” I joked, smiling down at the paper in front of me. “And to answer your original question, I don’t fancy her. She’s not really… my type.” She was in reality, far from it. Like completely-wrong-gender far from it. “Now, look back to the window so I can come over there and draw your face,” I demanded as I stood and went closer to him. He quickly followed directions and I went and sat in front of him only about six inched away from him. Being that close to him was extremely tempting, but luckily, I had learned a little something called self-control over the last few weeks.
We sat in silence for the next few minutes as I finished drawing him. I corrected all of the little mistakes I had made and perfected every bit of him so that it would look exactly like him. When I was done, I looked up at him from my place on the floor, then at my picture. I smiled, extremely content with my results. “I’m done,” I announced. Sage’s face whipped quickly to my extended hand where he observed the sketch I had drawn.
“Damn,” he said under his breath. “You definitely made me look twenty times better.”
I smiled at him. “You always look like that. You always look perfect,” I said before I even realized the words were coming out of my mouth. My eyes widened as I realized what I said.
I looked up to see his reaction, but just saw Sage smirking at me. Having no clue what that was supposed to mean, I took it for the worst it could possibly be (I don’t even know what that was) and looked back down at my lap. Before I had the chance to get my head completely down, I felt a finger lift my chin. And before I even had a chance to think, I felt the sensation of lips crashing to mine.