Sky’sthe one who should be doing this, but she’s too busy making life harder for herself.
Self-sabotage. I read about it online. If Sky doesn't try harder to get scholarships so she can go to college, she never has to face the fear of having a panic attack in a class full of people. She can continue to work from home, and argue routinely with our mother.
I’ve come to Northmount High School's library today in hope of someday soon being free from my mother and Sky’s locked horns.
The library is impressive. Stacks upon stacks of books, rows upon rows of computers, couches and chairs dotting the landscape. Inspirational posters touting quotes about perseverance and hard work decorate the walls. I’m hunkered down in front of a computer as far as possible from the door. I suppose it doesn't matter how well-hidden I am, because I’m the only one in here. There were five of us, studiously ignoring one another, but now they’ve all left.And then there was one.
Though I came here for Sky, I did need to finish my history paper. I accomplished that task first, now I’m working on the main reason I came. If Sky won’t go out and find the scholarships, then I’ll do it for her. It isn’t hard, and it doesn’t take long. She easily could do this herself, but there’s no sense in me telling her that.
I hit a button on the screen and hear the sounds of the printer across the room waking up. I get up and grab the paper, but when I take it off the tray I lose my grip and it floats to the ground. Bending to pick it up, I notice a pair of shoes walking into my line of sight, and not just any shoes.
Black, orange, and yellow striped cleats.
They come closer, and I’m frozen in my huddled position.
Paper crinkling in my hand, I look up to the person who’s now standing in front of me. Slowly my breath leaks out. My stomach flips, nerves twirling and jumping about.
“Hey,” Noah says, lips curling around the word. He brushes back a piece of hair that has fallen into his eyes. I track the movement, taking note of his damp and disheveled hair. I almost laugh when the disobedient hair falls back to nearly the exact place it was just moved from.
I straighten.“Hi.” My voice is too soft. So different from the way it sounded when he first pulled me from the water. I was mad he’d interrupted me. That was before I realized he’d thought he was saving me. Before I saw the uncertainty on a face that had only ever looked certain.
We’re quiet. I move the bracelets on my wrist up my forearm until they are stuck in the thicker circumference of my arm. Noah looks down at the ground and then back up at me. Three times.
Since when is the king of Northmount nervous?He plays in front of packed stadiums. By now his nerves should be numbed by screaming fans and bright lights.
He tilts his head to the side and grins. “You come here often?”
I can’t help it. I laugh.
“I expected way better from you.”
He pretends to be hurt. “What do you mean? Why?”
“Gee, I don’t know. Because you have plenty of practice delivering pickup lines.”
The muscles in his face shift, he blinks twice, and I wonder if I could stuff my foot in my mouth any further. The hurt in his expression isn’t pretend anymore.
Way to go.
“I’m sorry.” My apology rushes out, the words tripping over each other. “I didn’t mean it like that.”
“I’m not a player.” His voice grows deeper when he says it, full of conviction, as if he’s willing me to believe him.
“That’s not what I was saying.”
He raises his eyebrows.
I lift my hands. “Okay, it kind of was. But I didn’t really mean it. Not in a bad way.”
He pulls a strand of hair from my shoulder, looking at it. “I like the color of your hair. It’s special. Unique. Like you.”
At this I get angry.
I yank my hair from his hand, ignoring the pain in my scalp.
His eyebrows draw together, the confusion in them clear.
“You have a girlfriend,” I hiss.
