Run Smooth

I took lunch as an opportunity to find more about Desmond. Emerson High wasn't a very big school, only around 400 kids total, but when you packed them all into our grimy cafeteria, it wasn't a very pleasant atmosphere.

Emil had his arm around Layla and was munching on some soggy fries when I sat down. "Cass! You bring Lancelow food? I swear, this stuff gets worse and worse."

I shook my head, stealing a glance at his chick. From first impressions, Layla was okay. She was snuggled up against Emil, and every now and then she'd glance up at him with her pretty blue eyes and give him a shy smile. But clutched in her hands was something bearing a striking resemblance to a pre-calculus textbook, and the way she was so absorbed in it made me wonder for a brief moment what Emil saw in her.

"Maybe you could make your own food instead of jacking off mine," I told him. Mum, recently having taken up cooking as one of her art-pursuits, usually sent me off to school with a bag lunch. Most of the time it was delicious, but her schedule didn't allow her to keep it up every day.

As I scanned the crowd for a curly brunette, I found myself wondering what kinds of people Desmond hung out with. Skaters? Emos? From outward appearance, he was normal. Fortunately, the earlier episode had him already classified in my mind as anything but.

I felt irritated. Suddenly, sitting at that table didn't seem so fun. Watching Emil look adoringly on his newest catch while she twirled her long black hair and filled her head with the kind of stuff that gave me migraines was nothing compared to the conversation I could spark up with Desmond. Sometimes it was like I had ADHD. I couldn't stay in one place for long, and stretches of silence pricked me like burrs.

I stood up just as Charmaine was sitting down. "Uh, where are you going? I just got here," she said, her delicately plucked eyebrows knotting in confusion.

"Uh, I'll explain later. I um, have this urge to go do something. Catch ya in a bit?" Adrenaline was starting to rush through me, and I tapped my toes impatiently on the grey tiled floor.

Emil gave me a weird look and kept chewing, and Layla didn't even seem to hear me. Charmaine nodded slowly, still probably wondering what was going on. What was going on? I shook my questions away, knowing I wouldn't be able to answer them, and gave Char a gracious smile. Then I took off.

Thankfully, a lot of teenagers hadn't arrived from their classes, so the crowd was small enough to lose myself in without hindering my vision. I mean, at 5'4'', it was sometimes a bit difficult to see above everyone. Trying not to be conspicuous, I searched the lunchroom.

Ah. I steered on my heels and sauntered up to Desmond's table, which was coincidentally empty. I plopped down across from him.

"Would you stop doing that? It's annoying." He spoke before I had to, but I ignored him just the same.

"So you like art?" I locked my eyes on him, and then leaned back casually. Yes, I was going to play this one cool.

"How do you know that?"

I pointed to the strip of white on the bottom of his black Vans, which was covered in ink doodles and smudges. He looked up from his burger, eyebrow slightly cocked. "She's observant. A good trait."

I actually prided myself on that--as I was walking up, I had zoomed in on any small details that stuck out. For instance, he had a couple freckles on his left cheek, just below his ear. Some of his brown curls were highlighted black, and his pallor indicated he wasn't outdoors much.

Instead of leaking it to Desmond, I changed the subject to see how compatible HE was. "Let's play a game. I will state something I know about you and then ask something I don't. Then you do the same. Let's see how good of a stalker you are." I stole one of his fries and stuck it in my mouth, chewing rather expressively.

Desmond shrugged and moved a couple fries to a separate pile. He gestured to it, "Those are yours. Don't eat from my pile."

I was starting to lose tact--what was wrong with this guy? I took another fry, from his pile. He scowled at me. "One: You've been playing guitar for a long time, at least six years or so. Question: Are you always this stuck-up or do you put on airs for girls? I don't like snobs."

"Seven, to be exact. My calluses, right?" I don't think I masked my disappointment well enough, because he smirked.

"My cousin plays," I mumbled.

"And yes, I'm rather stuck up, but I'm not a snob. My airs are the same around male or female." The way Desmond spoke gnawed at my stomach. As if he was speaking to a child, rather than a peer.

"One: You crave attention. Not in an insecure way, it's just part of your personality. Do you like marshmallows?"

Something about this kid was annoying me, but I couldn't place it. His carefree attitude, like he had all the time in the world and nobody had the right to rush him. "Duh. Who doesn't?" At this, I stood up and gave a two-finger wave. "This is wasting my time," I stated, and then walked off.

*

A humid breeze smacked my face as I exited the building. Call me a wimp, but whenever I got mad, I ditched school. It had become a normal thing for me, and since Principal Manning had his hands full with all those troublemaking teachers, nobody ever noticed.

I had a ditch-spot, too. It took me a couple minutes to get there, and by the time five blocks was up, I felt sweat in my pits. I scowled. Curse this Florida air.

Nobody was there, as usual. Highland Oaks Park was often deserted, and it fit my bad moods perfectly. I smiled grimly and posed like a model walking down the catwalk until I hit the end of the dock. Nothing delighted me more than acting totally weird.

I slipped my flip-flops off and plunged my feet into the water, which was, unsurprisingly, warm. Pulling on my shades, I leaned onto my back and closed my eyes. Hey, while I was here, I could tan.

I don't know how long I was asleep, but when I woke up, fluffy grey clouds had covered the sky. I snapped my sunglasses together without getting up and pulled my feet back onto the dock. It was pretty peaceful, watching the sky.

That is, until he spoke.

"What an ugly day. Your toes are pruny." I shot up and spun around, gasping, only to find Desmond stretched out on his back next to me. His eyes were closed and his arms were crossed behind his head, fingers entwined in his curls.

"Freak! How long have you been here?!" I yanked on my hair in embarrassment.

"Oh, ever since you closed your eyes," he said casually, finally opening his and turning to me.

That's it. I shoved him off the dock, triumphant when his "Whaa?" was enveloped in a splash.

He immediately came to the surface and pulled himself back up, sopping wet. His hair clung to his face and his jeans to his legs, and when I stole a look at his upper torso, I realized he was actually pretty fit.

"What was that for?" His lazy tone, that annoying smirk.

"How did you find me? Stalker!" I crossed my arms around my chest and frowned, though the corners of my lips threatened to curl up at how pathetic he looked.

"When you left the café, I finished my food and followed you. You need to learn the art of deserting tails. It's pretty helpful."

I scowled. He followed me? AFTER finishing his food? What was he, some kind of bloodhound? I ignored myself and asked another question. "Why?"

"Well, you never know when you're going to be stalked."

"I meant, why did you follow me? What interest am I to you?"

Desmond tapped his chin, as if deep in thought. "On impulse, I suppose. I never think before I do. It's my weakness, actually."

I rolled my eyes. Okay, so he wanted to be that way.

I took off running, almost sliding in the grass because I forgot my flip-flops. I heard Desmond shout behind me, and I grinned smugly when he groaned.

I loved to run. It barely took any concentration, so my mind could be totally blank. Pumping my arms at my sides, I felt my breath speeding up.

"What's your problem?" Desmond asked, sounding less winded than I was. How had he caught up so fast?

"Geese. Chasing me," I gasped, and for a moment I reveled in his confused face. Then he straightened his arms in the air and made a couple gunshots with his mouth.

"They're dead. You can stop now."

How did he catch on so quickly? I had to catch him off guard. I stopped and bent over, hands on my knees. Even my butt felt like it was sweating. Thank goodness for denim shorts to eliminate embarrassing wet stains.

"Thanks," I mumbled, trying to pat down my frizzy hair.

"Here," Desmond said, holding out a strawberry energy bar that seemed to appear out of nowhere. I gratefully accepted it, peeling off the wrapper and sticking it in my mouth before my brain could protest. No sir, hunger trumped pride this time.

"What kind of boy are you? You carry energy bars in your pockets and stalk girls who ditch school," I stated after finishing the snack. I sat down cross-legged in the grass at the edge of the park, and Desmond collapsed lazily across from me. The grass prickled my butt, and I shifted uncomfortably.

"What kind of girl are you? You think in improv and doze off on docks in the middle of the day."

"Obviously your type," we both said at the same time. I gawked, clamping my hand over my mouth.

"Quit thinking in my language!" I demanded, feeling heat rise to my cheeks. I racked my brain for a different subject, determined to overcome the awkwardness. "I have to go back and get my flip-flops."

"Um, actually, I got them for you." Desmond reached around and pulled out my flamingo-pink sandals from his back pockets.

These touched his butt, I realized, grossed out. I flicked them to the grass and stood up, slipping them on. "Thanks."

"'Tis only my duty, fair maiden." He struck a theatric bow. I fought the urge to giggle.

"Farewell, young knight," I replied, hesitantly. Should I have called him a servant? It would've fit him better.

As I turned, Desmond stepped forward. "Wait. You can't go looking like that. Your hair is a mess." In one swift motion, he scooped my hair up and combed it into a ponytail with his fingers. I heard the snap of elastic. My stomach quivered, shocked at how gentle he was being.

"And you carry ponytails. Weirdo." I didn't look at him.

"For people like you, Frizzhead."

I could feel his smirk as I walked away.