Page 22 of The Heart That Breaks
“Yeah. That doesn’t really change anything.”
The bus slows and turns in at the middle school entrance. Mr. Bowles pulls the lever that opens the door with a soft whoosh. Brandi stands, pushing her backpack onto her shoulder. “Have a good day, Ann-Elizabeth. Hope you see Nathan.”
“Bye. See you this afternoon, okay?”
I watch her walk off the bus, her narrow shoulders too small for her age. And a little flare of rage ignites inside me.
*
Nathan
SO NOW I’M looking for her after every class. It’s as if my brain has been hijacked, its GPS set on locating Ann-Elizabeth, re-setting every time I think I spot her and then realize it’s not her.
It seems like I used to see her a lot. Pass her in the hall. See her at her locker.
But today, she’s nowhere to be found.
I start to wonder if she’s avoiding me. Paranoid or not, I decide that’s the most likely answer.
When Lit class finally arrives, my theory proves true. She walks in late, makes a beeline for her desk and never glances my way.
Our teacher tells us to open our books to last night’s reading assignment. I do so and pull a piece of paper from my notebook, write a note and then fold it into a triangle before passing it to Marshall Rakes and asking him to pass it across the row to Ann-Elizabeth.
I watch from the corner of my eye as she takes it, then slips it under her textbook without opening it. I’m wondering if she’s going to wait until after class to read it, but fortunately for me, curiosity apparently gets the better of her and she places the triangle on her lap before unfolding it. She keeps her gaze on the teacher, dropping her eyes just often enough to not draw attention to herself.
A small smile touches the corners of her mouth as she folds the paper back together, and I swear my heart does a somersault in my chest. She waits several minutes before writing something on another piece of paper and sending it back across the row.
I wait until the teacher is torturing someone with questions about what he got out of the assignment before I open it and begin reading, too eager to see what she said to follow Ann-Elizabeth’s discretion.
Maybe I was avoiding you a little. Busted. Not easy to face someone the morning after you’ve shared your dog and a plastic blue barrel with him.And no, I haven’t changed my mind about the dance.
Not exactly the answer I was hoping for. I practice some reserve and decide face to face is better than another note.
When the bell rings, Ann-Elizabeth slips from her desk and heads for the door. I’d expected this though so I’m right behind her when she steps into the hall.
“Hey,” I say, walking beside her.
“Hey,” she says back, glancing over as if she’s not surprised I caught up with her. “I’m not going to change my mind, Nathan.”
“Even if I promise it’ll be the best date in the history of all dates?”
She smiles but glances off without looking at me. “You’re not lacking in confidence, are you?”
“I prefer to call it determination.”
“That so?” she asks, giving me a glance of disagreement.
“Without it, how are you ever going to get what you want?”
“For the rest of us, there’s a little more required than just determination.”
I reach for her elbow and pull her out of the stream of hallway traffic, landing us both against a row of lockers. I step in front of her, staring down at her with serious eyes. “One date. One dance. If you hate me or the dance, you don’t have to ever go out with me again.”
“You’re used to getting what you want, aren’t you?” she asks in a low voice.
I consider this and then, “It’s not often that I really want something.”
“So why me?”
