Page 17 of The Way I Used to Be
He laughs too loud. His jock people turn around and stare at me for a few seconds before returning to each other. “I said, I didn’t say anything. I was just trying to get your attention.”
“Oh.” I pause. “Why?”
“I don’t know.” He shrugs. “To say hi.”
“Oh. Hi?” I say it like a question, only because I’m really confused about what’s going on here.
“Hi,” he laughs the word.
I look down at my planner. The word “Smile” stares at me through the scribbles. So I look at him again, and give him the smile that had been working for me so far this year. He inches his whole desk closer to me, making a screeching noise against the floor, again drawing the attention of his friends.
“So,” he whispers. “Are you new?”
“New?” I repeat.
“New this year, I mean?” he asks.
“No.”
“Seriously?”
I nod.
“Oh. Wow, okay.” He narrows his eyes at me and turns his head slightly, like he doesn’t quite believe me.
That’s when I realize he has absolutely no idea who I am. No idea I was that girl he nearly ran over in the hall last year. No idea how he grabbed my arm and asked me if I was okay. No idea that I ever existed. And somehow, I really like the way that feels. I smile again.
He smiles back. “What’s your name?”
“E—den.” I almost say Edy but stop myself just in time. “Eden,” I repeat, clearer. Because I can be anyone to this guy. I can truly be this new person. Because he knows nothing different.
“Eden?” he verifies. And it suddenly sounds like the best name in the world.
“Yeah.” I smile. I start sifting through the collection of random facts—these small things that I know about him. Like his name and the fact that he’s a senior and a basketball star and has had previous cheerleader girlfriends. The term scholar-athlete comes to mind. I know who he is, of course; it would be impossible to not know something like that. Like when his name comes up in the morning announcements for leading the boys’ varsity team to victory over blah, blah, blah, or for scoring x number of points in whatever quarter in last night’s game against whomever, I obviously have an image in my head of who it is they’re talking about. But it’s different, somehow, actually sitting next to him.
His eyes meet mine. I’m staring. I look down and think: Chocolate. That’s what his eyes remind me of. I look up again. The color of dark chocolate. And I realize that those small random facts don’t really add up to anything when you’re up close like this. When someone like him is looking at you the way he’s looking at me.
“Josh,” he tells me. And then does something just... insane. He reaches across the aisle, extending his hand toward me for a handshake. It seems a little silly, but I raise my hand to meet his. His skin is warm, just like his voice and his eyes and his laugh. It seems like we’re holding each other’s hands for way too long, but he just smiles like there’s nothing weird about this at all.
But then the bell screams. I drop his hand, shocked back into a world not composed solely of this guy’s chocolate eyes. I gather my things quickly so I can get out of there, because I don’t know what just happened—what’s happening. I don’t know if it’s scary or exhilarating. I don’t dare look back at him. I rush for the door.
THE NEXT DAY IT’Slike my entire world revolves around preparing for study hall, even though I know it’s the least important part of the day. I should be worrying about my trig quiz next week, and the fact that I have no clue how to even properly work my calculator yet. I can’t tell if I’m obsessing over seeing Josh again because I’m dreading it or because I can’t wait. Or both, somehow.
When I get there, he’s already sitting with his friends. I stand in the doorway, not knowing what to do. I can’t go over and just sit there. But then if I sit somewhere else, I don’t want it to seem like I don’t want to sit with him again. He’s laughing with the guy in front of him, who’s turned around in his chair, gesturing wildly.
But then the second bells rings. People are still filing in, and they push past me as I stand in the way. My heart starts racing as I try to make the decision. If he would just look over here and give me a sign that I’m invited to sit back there again. But he’s not paying attention. He doesn’t see me. He probably doesn’t even remember yesterday.
“Okay, find your seats, everyone!” the teacher yells. So I sink into the seat closest to the door. I keep my eyes glued on the back of the kid’s neck in front of me while the teacher takes roll call. I am the biggest coward in the universe.
“Eden McCrorey?”
I raise my arm, but he overlooks me.
“Eden McCrorey?” he repeats, louder.
“Here,” I call back. And I can’t help myself; I look behind me to the back corner of the room where he’s sitting. He’s looking at me. I turn back around quickly. When the teacher finishes taking attendance, I hurry to the front of the room to have him sign my pass for the library. When I turn around to head for the door, Josh waves at me and points his thumb toward the empty desk next to his. As I get closer he motions for me to come over there. I really just want to run, though. But I remember about acting normal and smiling, so I walk over to him. His friends turn to look at me; it’s like they’re evaluating me—inspecting me for flaws. Quietly, Josh says, “Hey, Eden, I saved your spot.”
“Oh. Well, thanks. I’m going to the library though.”
