Chapter Two
2001 - Beginning of Freshman Year
Erica
“Students.” Mrs. Carmichael called attention to the class as we were all settling into fourth period. It was only a month into my freshman year, but it had felt like forever. I sat next to my best friend, Madison, and pulled out my algebra book, ready to start working with those numbers.
I’d learned over the years that it wasn’t normal for girls to love math, but there was something about sitting there working through an equation that made my heart soar. I leaned down under my desk to grab a pen and notebook out of my bag, just as our teacher continued.
“We’ve got a new student joining our class today. He’s new to town and recently moved from Savannah. Everyone, welcome Chase Ruthen.”
I sat up too fast, my head slamming underneath my desk. The sound reverberated across the room and I sat up with my hand rubbing the sore spot on my skull.
“Are you okay?” Madison leaned over to whisper to me.
“Yeah.” I finally caught a glance at the boy who stood in front of the class. A boy I hadn’t seen in almost five years, but those green eyes couldn’t fool anyone.
A boy I had watched walk away on the last day of summer so many years ago. His words from that day rang out in my head, from when he’d asked to keep me, from when he’d given me the dog tag, the same one I kept on a keychain that sat in my backpack right now. A boy I had thought about almost every single day for the last five years.
He stood in front of the class room in dark jeans and a white button-up shirt, with mussed hair, the same light brown it had always been. He looked around the class, his eyes landing on the only open seat that was next to me, and moved toward it.
Chase Ruthen was in my class.
Chase was back in town.
He was in public school.
It felt like the world was ending, but I had to play it cool.
I straightened the supplies on my desk, trying to figure out what I was going to say.
Just introduce yourself to him. See if he remembers who you are.
He took the seat next to me and I turned toward him. I had been working with the student council on welcoming new students, so I wanted to make sure he received the best one. I wanted him to know we all wanted him to be here, not for my own selfish reasons.
Nope.
Not at all.
I flashed him my cutest smile and shot out my hand.
“Hi, I’m Erica.” My voice rose an octave and I looked away momentarily, wincing at how childish I sounded. I could see Madison behind me giving me a raised eyebrow. I normally didn’t start the conversation first with people, which was why I was working on welcoming new students, to try to get out of my comfort zone.
Chase finally registered me, turning in the small desk chair, and stared down at my hand and then up at me. His green eyes struck my heart and the way his lip turned up at the corner made me think he remembered me. I sat up a little straighter in my chair, enthusiasm taking over me. He took my hand in his and gave a curt shake, then turned back to his backpack, pulling out a notebook and pencil.
“I’m Chase.”
He didn’t look at me when he said his name and my heart sank. Nothing about our interaction held any indication that Chase remembered who I was, as much as I was hoping for. He had barely looked at me and the way he’d brushed me off . . . Was he even the same boy I had fallen for all those years ago?
I sat there staring between Chase and my hand until Madison poked my back with her pen as Mrs. Carmichael started her lesson on quadratic equations. I curled into my chair and tugged my feet under my legs, covering them with the skirt I had on. It felt like a tent that could protect any part of me from being seen. I then propped myself up in the chair so I could lean over my desk, covering it fully.
All I wanted to do was disappear into the back of the room, not still be sitting next to Chase. But I had no other option than to get through the rest of this forty-minute class.
I wrote down whatever Mrs. Carmichael put on the board and worked through each problem without a sweat. All the while trying not to wonder about the boy sitting next to me. It was hard. He was the one who used to call me Peaches. Now he had no idea who I even was to him. He once asked if he could keep me; I’m not even sure if he would know what that meant if I said it.
I thought back to that day a lot, and even over the years wondered why we hadn’t found a way to keep in contact, but at the age of nine, I wasn’t quite sure how that would have even worked. I would have had to write him letters and ask my mother to send them for me, and that would have been an even bigger embarrassment. Now, I could ask for his phone number, but even with that, he would have to want to give it to me.
And from the looks of it all, I doubted that would happen, since the boy sitting next to me gave no indication of remembering me.
