Page 24 of This I Know
“You’re welcome,” says Ethan.
Some of the students snicker and Mr. Miller glares at Ethan over the top of his paper, waiting for the interruption to pass, and I know he’s this close to telling Ethan to watch it. Ethan, however, doesn’t notice, because he’s too busy scanning the room with his eyes, choosing a seat.
Don’t sit next to me. Don’t sit next to me. If you sit next to me, I might fall in love with you. Please, don’t sit next to me.
I look around. There are only three open seats in the entire classroom, one of which just so happens to be right next to me. After some brief mental debate on his part, he chooses the one farthest from me. He sits and slides his backpack off his shoulder, then takes out a pencil and a notebook and sits straight ahead, now well-behaved.
He hasn’t glanced my way. Not even when he was making his decision. He never took one look at the open seat next to me, or at me. Well, good. Now I won’t fall in love with you, Ethan Harrington. I let out a soundless sigh and cross my arms, glad to feel just as invisible as he does.
“Honey.” My mom enters my room.
It’s after school and I’m sitting at my desk trying to get some homework done. We’ve already eaten dinner, and the whole time I could tell something was on her mind. There was a look in her eyes, a tension and a silence about her that’s unmistakable. I was expecting this, and now she’s here. Ready to dish.
“What is it?” I say without looking up.
She walks over to my closet and opens the doors with both arms. She pulls out a hanger and fits a sweater onto it.
“I bought you this,” she says.
She sticks the hanger back in with the others, not bothering to really show me what, exactly, she bought. That’s okay. She’s confident because she knows what I like; and I’m also sure she knows as soon as she leaves I’ll be sure to take a peek.
“Thanks.”
She takes a seat on my bed. See, I knew this was coming.
“How’s school been going?” she asks.
I continue writing. “It’s been okay.”
“Your friends still being nice to you?”
Ah, the good old friend talk. Itisimportant to make sure I’m not being ostracized from the community due to everything that happened. She’s going about this delicately. I don’t blame her.
“Yep.”
Out of the corner of my eye, she’s absentmindedly adjusting my covers back into place.
“I miss Mara,” she says. “You should have her over more. She’s a sweet girl.”
“That’s one word for her.” Anyone who knows Mara gets the gist of that joke.
I set my pen down and turn in her direction. I know this is what she wants, to have my full attention.
“She’s great,” I say. “Of course. I love Mara.”
The sinews of her neck cringe as she swallows in preparation for her next question. “Have you run into Cole at all?”
So this isn’t about friends, it’s about Cole. I should have known that’s where this was going. I turn back around and pretend to focus on my homework again.
“No.”
“Avery, turn around. Please.”
I do, but only because she’s giving me no choice.
She looks me in the eyes. “I just want to make sure you’re being smart –”
“I am smart, Mom.”
