Shallow Page 7

  That surprised me. To be honest, I expected him to say video games or computer stuff. Which was a dumb, stereotypical assumption. I knew that and felt ashamed about it. Woodwork sounded fun though. Making something from nothing but pieces of wood was far more intricate than joining words together to tell a story.

  “That sounds really cool. What do you make?” I asked.

  Another shrug, but this time his eyes lit up. “Furniture mainly. I made my grandpa a rocker to put on his front patio.”

  I covered his shoulder with my hand. “You did not! For real?”

  He smiled, exposing two dimples I’d somehow missed throughout the years. “Yeah, I did. He loved it.”

  Excited, I hopped on my bottom, angled my knees toward him. “What else?”

  “Grandpa and I made some picnic tables over the summer that we donated to that playground that opened up by the beach.”

  My mouth opened wide, and I snapped it shut with a loud click. “The ones with the cool designs carved into them?”

  Red stained his cheeks and he nodded, keeping his head dipped down.

  “I love them. I took so many pictures on my phone to show my mom.” My voice caught, I coughed to clear my throat. “She loved them, too.”

  “Thanks.” It was said with a hint of pride. He ran his hand over his phone. “I have pictures of other stuff I’ve made,” he said but it came out sounding like a question.

  “Oh, Seth, you have to show me!” Anticipation coursed through my veins and I tipped my hand out for his phone.

  The dimples on his cheeks deepened as he unlocked his phone. After going to his gallery, he handed it to me.

  A gorgeous deep mahogany table. A swing hanging from a tree. A detailed figure of a pelican and another of a sailboat.

  Creation after beautiful creation, I went through his pictures and saw the craft, the talent that hid beneath his skin.

  I gasped. “This one.” I turned his phone to him, showing him the picture of a small bookshelf. It was smaller than the one in my bedroom, but the details in the trim were outstanding.

  He swiped to the next picture and with a grin, showed me the carvings he’d done on the side.

  “Seth,” I breathed out. “This is amazing. Do you sell these? Can I buy this one from you?”

  “I made it for my grandma.” This time, pride shone deeply in his face. “The one in the nursing home was falling apart.”

  “I bet she loved it.”

  “I could make one for you if you want.”

  I took in a sharp breath, bracing a palm against my chest. “Really?”

  He nodded.

  “I’d love it!”

  A horn honked, and we both turned when a red car pulled up close to us. The passenger window rolled down and a woman waved.

  “That’s my mom.” He stood up and I waved back at his mom. “I just wanted to say thanks, you know.” He darted a quick look to his mom and then me. “So, thanks, Brin.” When his arms came around my neck, I hugged him back, digging my fingers into the back of shirt.

  In that moment, another part of me cracked. This boy, who I’d tormented throughout high school didn’t just forgive me, he’d offered me his friendship during lunch. And when things went completely wrong, he took even more abuse. Still he made the effort to hang out with me and thanked me for helping him through something that should never have happened.

  I watched him leave with my heart lodged in my throat, with despair stuck in my chest. I continued to stare long after his mom drove away.

  Minutes passed by without me noticing.

  All I heard, all I saw was Seth giving me more than I deserved.

  “Mind if I sit with you?” Roderick’s voice broke through the silence. “Maybe there’s enough room on the table for freaks?” He tilted his head, offered me a smile, but it didn’t look real. Sad, forlorn, that’s what his smile screamed out.

  Wrapping my arms over my stomach, I nodded. “You’re not a freak.”

  “And you’re not shallow.”

  I blew out a breath, drew in another one and held it in my lungs.

  “What’s going on with you?” he asked the same question he’d asked earlier.

  The worry in his tone echoed in my head. It wasn’t something I expected, not from Roderick when I’d done everything to shut him out and watched from a distance as he surrendered into himself. Without any friends to help him. Without me, who long ago told him I’d be there for him.

  I patted the empty spot beside me. He joined me on the table where his shoulder brushed against mine. I reveled at the contact.

  “Do you want to work on our blackout poem?” I asked.

  “No.”

  Good, I didn’t want to either.

  Leaning over my knee, I reached for my book bag and pulled out a bag of chips I’d bought in case I ran into Roderick and could come up with an excuse to give it to him.

  “Aha!” I exclaimed, ripping open the bag.

  I shifted the open bag to him and he reached in. I followed suit. We ate together in silence, but it didn’t feel uncomfortable like it had with Seth. There was tension radiating from his stiff posture to mine. There was anxiety from my tapping foot to his. But there was also a sense of calm, of contentedness that I felt deep in the marrow of my bones. Maybe it wasn’t real. Maybe I put it there to make myself feel better, but I felt it all the same. Wrapped myself in the peace and let it infiltrate my system.

  The wind picked up, blew swiftly, making my hair whip around my face. On a laugh, I pulled it up in a pony.

  “I like your hair loose.” Roderick reached for me, touched the ends of my hair. “I like it up too. You’re pretty either way.”

  Leaves on the ground swirled in front of us. The heaviness of the storm grew closer. I was ready for it, or at least I thought I was.

  “You think I’m pretty?”

  He shook his head on a laugh. “No.”

  My stomach dropped at his cruel joke. Of course he didn’t think I was pretty. He had no reason to think of me at all.

  “I think you’re beautiful.”

  I shifted my head to stare at him, and the way he looked back at me – his blue eyes pulling me from my despair – was everything.

  “You’ve always been beautiful, but right now,” he paused, “There’s something different about you, something that makes you even more beautiful than usual.

  “I want to be different. I want to change.” It came out low, shaking with uncertainty.

  I wasn’t sure if he could feel the intensity vibrating in my system, but he swallowed hard as I inched closer to him.

  “I want to be a better person.”

  Reaching for him, I combed my fingers through his jet black hair and when he closed his eyes on a groan, my lips parted.

  “I like your hair.” It came out breathless, as if my lungs fought against what came naturally to them.

  I leaned in to him, my face inches from his, our lips a whisper apart. His eyes flew open, shocked but filled with the same want that filled me. His breaths fell on my face and I snuck out my tongue to taste my lips where his breath had caressed.

  “Brinley.” The way he whispered my name made me want more. Want everything.

  I dug my fingers in to his scalp. “Kiss me, Roderick,” I breathed.

  His lips touched mine. Gently. Tentatively. Like a smile in the breeze. His lips felt soft against mine. With my fingertips, I touched his cheek, the sharp angle of his jaw. When his tongue brushed across the seams of my lips, I took him in.

  This kiss… our kiss was like a dream I’d been waiting for my whole life.

  I kissed Brinley Crassus. And what’s more, she kissed me back.

  It didn’t last long. Just a few light brushes. When we parted though, I missed the feel of her soft lips on mine. Her warm tongue tangled with mine. I wanted more. Needed more time to explore her, to savor her.

  Brinley blinked several times before she focused on my face. Her attention drew down to my lips and I h
eaved out a sigh when she grazed them with a single fingertip.

  “You kissed me.” Her lips tilted up in a smile.

  I smiled back. “You told me to.”

  A blush crept up to her cheeks. It was cute and irresistible. I inched into her and kissed her nose. Tears welled behind her eyes and I hated them. Hated that something hurt her enough that she even had tears to shed.

  With my hands bracing either side of her face, her eyelids fluttered closed as she drew out a sweet breath I immediately wanted to inhale so I could breathe Brinley in and hold her in my chest. Instead, I pressed a kiss over one eyelid and then the other.

  She traced her hands over my arms and wrapped her fingers around my wrist. Eyes the shade of evergreen trees widened.

  “You’re cold,” she whispered as if it were some sort of secret.

  I laughed. “It’s kind of cold outside,” I joked.

  She looked down to my chest, over the short sleeve shirt I’d put on since I didn’t have any long sleeves that were wearable. She ran her hands over my chilled arms. I shivered at her touch.

  “We should go inside, into the gym.” She angled her head to the side. “Get out of the cold. I’ll text Danny, so he knows I’m there.”

  I helped her off the table, keeping her hand in mine. I didn’t want to let go. It’d been years since anyone had shown me any affection, years since anyone had held my hand or touched my face. I wasn’t ready to let go. Maybe I never would be.

  “What. The. Hell?” The grating sound of Nicole’s voice reached us.

  Beside me, Brinley’s body jerked as if she’d been struck by the lightning that wasn’t too far from us. Not wanting to embarrass her further, I dropped her hand. Her eyes danced across my face and when she looked away from me resigned and hurt, I felt it in my gut. In my soul.

  I’d let her down. Only a few hours after telling her I’d be there for her.

  “What’s up, Nicole?” Brinley kept her voice bright as the fake smile I hated so much took over her face.

  She was still beautiful, always beautiful. Even when I wanted to hate her, she was beautiful. But that wasn’t the smile I wanted. No, the smile I wanted was the one she’d given me after we kissed. But I’d wiped it away without meaning to.

  I reached for her hand, but she shook me away, dismissing me the same way I had dismissed her moments ago.

  “Is the freak giving you trouble?” She sneered in my direction.

  Brinley cast a quick look in my direction. Her eyes narrowed at me and I waited for the Brinley I’d grown accustomed to, to belittle me. To make me feel like the nothing I was.

  “No.” She peered back at her friend. “Roderick and I were hanging out while I waited for Danny to finish practice. Then I kissed him.” She jutted out her chin, waited for Nicole to reply while I stood frozen in place with my mouth hanging open.

  “Well, was it at least a good kiss?” Nicole asked with a smirk.

  Brinley touched her parted lips. “The best.”

  “There you have it!” Nicole threw her hands in the air, either in frustration or joy – I couldn’t tell. “My best friend has officially lost her damn mind.” She grinned, but it felt misplaced. “Talking to losers, calling my non-boyfriend an asshole. Hell, calling all her friends and herself a bunch of assholes and now, kissing freaks.”

  Brinley’s lips twitched and dumbfounded, I waited to see what she said next. “Seth is cool. If you talked to him for like five minutes, you’d see he’s the better guy over Jacob.”

  Nicole made a face. I shoved my hands in my pocket and waited. Brinley looked at me, her expression still sad, still dejected. Because of me.

  “And Roderick isn’t a freak. But you and me,” she pointed to herself and Nicole, “we are a bunch of assholes.” She giggled, and even though I couldn’t tell if it was real or pretend, it sounded like music to my ears. “All of our friends are assholes. You gonna try to deny that?”

  “No.” Nicole shook her head. “But it’s nice being the asshole on top.”

  “Yeah, except I don’t want to be that anymore,” Brinley said, her voice low and shaken. “I’m tired of being that person.”

  “So that’s it?” Nicole asked, her eyes turning red as tears welled behind them. “You were the first friend I made when I started here. You’ve been the only friend I could talk to, and you’re just going to throw it away?”

  “You know, we don’t have to break up just because I don’t want to be a jerk anymore.” Her sass… the sass that lit me on fire when we were just kids returned and I wanted to kiss her again. And again.

  “Jacob and Joseph aren’t happy with you. I just wanted to find you and tell you. That’s it.”

  Brinley reached for her friend but let her hands fall to her side when Nicole turned away. “Are we still going to the boutique Saturday?”

  “No, not after what you did. Not after you pick the same people we’ve been making fun of and turn on your friends.”

  Brinley nodded, her fists clenching and unclenching beside her as she watched Nicole leave.

  When Nicole was out of earshot I went to stand beside her and put a hand on her shoulder. “You don’t need her.”

  She looked up at me, eyes glaring as if she could see right through me. “I don’t need you either.”

  I ran my fingers over her face. She didn’t move or flinch, just continued staring. It was as if the girl from my past had left. She was here for only a few minutes, but already I missed her.

  “Go, Roderick. You hate me, remember?” she snapped. “Alone, that’s how you like it? Go be alone.”

  She turned away from me and faced the field where Danny ran toward us. Immediately, he took her book bag from her and rummaged through it until he found what he was looking for. With a sandwich in hand, he smacked a kiss on top of her head. She leaned in to him, didn’t bother looking my way.

  Danny eyed me curiously.

  “You two talkin’?” he asked.

  “Something like that,” I replied.

  He nodded. “If you hurt her…”

  “You’ll hurt me,” I finished for him. “Got it.”

  “We’re not talking,” Brinley said, her voice louder than it needed to be. “Let’s go, Danny.”

  She took his hand, never once giving me a second glance. She walked away leaving me with my heart flayed open, bleeding on the ground.

  The cave I’d made my home was cold, but someone – the same someone who wrote poetry with me – had cleaned my wet, dirty clothes. Had cleaned my sheet and given me a new pillow while my old pillow remained wet on the rock.

  She’d left me food and some bottles of water and soda. I bit into the pear first. It was my favorite and reminded me of my mom. How we’d eat pears every morning together and let the juice drip down our chins. The memory of it, of her, swallowed me, but rather than getting angry, I let it take me whole.

  I remembered the ringing melody of her laughter. How she’d wrap her arms around me in a hug and splatter kisses on my face as I tried to squirm away. How she’d help me with my homework with a patience unlike any other. How she’d tease my dad about him being the better cook, so she wouldn’t have to prepare dinner. How he'd wink in my direction and joke about the times she’d tried to poison him just to get out of cooking. How his eyes always followed her, love so evident in the way he watched her.

  I choked on a sob, letting the sadness tear into me, destroy me while keeping the anger at bay. I owed it to my parents to think of them without the memory being tainted. Later, I could let the fury seep back in.

  On shaky legs, I went to the wall with my flashlight after I finished eating the pear. I illuminated the wall, hoping to find a reply to my poem.

  The kiss, the argument with Brinley had shaken me. But worse yet were the words she slung at me with such vehemence, as if she knew I didn’t want to be alone. Maybe she’d tasted the desperation on my tongue.

  Taking a deep breath, I looked at the wall, looked for the girl’s handwri
ting and drank in her words.

  Together.

  We fight together,

  desperately together.

  We both dwell in darkness,

  our souls broken into jagged pieces,

  but look!

  Look how perfectly we fit together.

  I slammed an open palm against the wall. Wanting to cover her words, her plea. We weren’t in this – in anything – together. We were two strangers who’d never met. Two strangers who wrote messages in poetry form.

  It didn’t mean anything.

  I was still the loner. The only difference was I no longer wanted to be alone.

  Heaving in a heavy breath, I looked around the cave for somewhere else I could sleep. Somewhere higher where the rain and puddles couldn’t reach. When I found a spot, I took all of my belongings to it. The small ledge wasn’t a smooth surface. It would be harder to sleep on, but at least I’d stay dry.

  I wrapped the blanket over me and lay on my side, away from the wall, from the poem. But it called to me.

  This girl, she’d cleaned my stuff, made me peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and brought me snacks and drinks. She didn’t know me anymore than I knew her. But she needed me, needed my words, and maybe I needed her too.

  Cold, even though I’d bundled up beneath my now clean sweatshirt, I covered my arms over my chest and went to the wall where I picked up the marker and scrawled back my own message. Hoping she’d have the answer.

  In all this togetherness,

  why do I feel so alone?

  I stared at it for a few beats. Stared at her poem, at her plea for us to fight desperately together. It was a nice thought. A sentiment that burrowed itself deep into my bones. Taking my phone out, I took a picture of her words, so I could keep it with me to read it over and over when hope dwindled. Then I read it again for a final time before I went back to bed.

  My head rested on my new pillow as my lungs filled with a familiar scent. That night, with the cold rain lashing outside, I dreamt of Brinley. Of her lips. Of her smile. Of her soul connected with mine.

  I hadn’t looked up my mom’s symptoms and poured through various articles since I started writing on Roderick’s wall. I hadn’t even written in my journal, just his wall. My wall. Ours. But in a way, I was still exposing my wounds, healing them through the words I shared with him. I savored his poems. The one I read yesterday morning about how he felt alone, and it hurt me to the core. His sadness, his loneliness hung on my shoulders, seeped into my pores, trembled in my veins.