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Authors: Rochelle Maya Callen
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comes, the thoughts follow. I grab my pencil and dig deep lines in the paper as I draw the circles, lines, and delicate waves with flares from my wrist. As I retrace the image and draw it over and over, eventually the lines become lighter and more graceful and I’m soothed by the look and feel of them. I breathe in as I guide my fingertip over the curves and slashes—beautiful and strong. When I sit up, I don’t feel angry anymore. I feel centered and focused.
I will cross the lake. Just not yet. I will be ready soon.
I sit in the silence touching my chest, but I feel nothing thumping inside. Empty, empty, empty.
Hours pass before I stand up and go to my window. It’s 2:56pm. Like everything in this small town, there is a predictability I can rely on. Before the thought is complete in my mind, I see him running so fast down the street. It’s different than when he is at school, where he holds himself back and lets his feet pound the pavement without purpose. Now he runs and everything about him is smooth and confident as he makes his way down the road, closing the distance to my house.
I grab my bag and leap to the bottom of the stairs.
“Darlin’?” Nanan’s face wrinkles in concern and confusion. “I didn’t hear you coming down.”
I crinkle my nose. Of course she didn’t. I skipped all of the stairs and landed with a loud smack. “Oh really? Well, I’m in a hurry. See you later!”
As I close the door, I hear Nanan say, “Oh look! It’s that Devereaux boy. His father was such—” The door’s slam cuts her off.
“Hello, stranger.” I yell after him just as he passes in front of my house, full speed.
He looks up and his eyes widen.
I wave.
He crashes into Nanan’s garbage can. He winces, crinkling his nose before he finally says, “Hi.”
“Sorry!”
“It’s okay. I have a strange fetish for humiliation, apparently.”
My lip quirks up on one side. He is such a curious, fidgety, delightful thing. He doesn’t look at me and, for a split second, I wonder if my dreams can replay in my eyes and he doesn’t want to see them, but then I remember the curve of his body, his head always down, and I realize he doesn’t really look at anyone. “How was school?”
“Are you really asking that question?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, it sucked.”
“Glad I missed it then.”
“Uh, yeah.” He nods slowly. “Listen, if I were you, I would watch out for Courtney. She can make your life a living hell.”
He has no idea how hellish my life already is or how close Blonde-boobs was to sputtering away beneath my palms. The thought terrifies and enthralls me. I look away. “Noted.”
“And, uh, thanks for trying to, you know, stick up for me.” He looks to the ground. “You really shouldn’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“If you want to have any kind of social life at Madisonville High, contact with me should be avoided. I’m contagious. You touch, I contaminate, you are rejected from all social circles. It’s like leprosy. Touch and destroy.”
I walk down the path and stand in front of him. “I’m not looking to get into any elite social circles.” I am hoping for the cold and the nightmares to go away; I am looking for memories; I am looking for… I don’t even know. I don’t tell him any of this, because, right now, I just don’t want him to walk away. “So I think I’ll be just fine.”
The silence drags its feet between us.
He clears his throat. “So, um, what did you do today?”
“Wander around. I was thinking about going into New Orleans, but…” I pause for a moment trying to pick the words. “I had transportation trouble.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, if you want I could drive you next week.” He shrugs, “I mean if you need a ride.”
I think about it for a moment. “Um, we’ll see. I’ll let you know. Thanks.” No way am I going to let him see me crumble like that.
“What are you going to do now?”
“I don’t know. Maybe rent a
I will cross the lake. Just not yet. I will be ready soon.
I sit in the silence touching my chest, but I feel nothing thumping inside. Empty, empty, empty.
Hours pass before I stand up and go to my window. It’s 2:56pm. Like everything in this small town, there is a predictability I can rely on. Before the thought is complete in my mind, I see him running so fast down the street. It’s different than when he is at school, where he holds himself back and lets his feet pound the pavement without purpose. Now he runs and everything about him is smooth and confident as he makes his way down the road, closing the distance to my house.
I grab my bag and leap to the bottom of the stairs.
“Darlin’?” Nanan’s face wrinkles in concern and confusion. “I didn’t hear you coming down.”
I crinkle my nose. Of course she didn’t. I skipped all of the stairs and landed with a loud smack. “Oh really? Well, I’m in a hurry. See you later!”
As I close the door, I hear Nanan say, “Oh look! It’s that Devereaux boy. His father was such—” The door’s slam cuts her off.
“Hello, stranger.” I yell after him just as he passes in front of my house, full speed.
He looks up and his eyes widen.
I wave.
He crashes into Nanan’s garbage can. He winces, crinkling his nose before he finally says, “Hi.”
“Sorry!”
“It’s okay. I have a strange fetish for humiliation, apparently.”
My lip quirks up on one side. He is such a curious, fidgety, delightful thing. He doesn’t look at me and, for a split second, I wonder if my dreams can replay in my eyes and he doesn’t want to see them, but then I remember the curve of his body, his head always down, and I realize he doesn’t really look at anyone. “How was school?”
“Are you really asking that question?”
“Yeah?”
“Well, it sucked.”
“Glad I missed it then.”
“Uh, yeah.” He nods slowly. “Listen, if I were you, I would watch out for Courtney. She can make your life a living hell.”
He has no idea how hellish my life already is or how close Blonde-boobs was to sputtering away beneath my palms. The thought terrifies and enthralls me. I look away. “Noted.”
“And, uh, thanks for trying to, you know, stick up for me.” He looks to the ground. “You really shouldn’t do that.”
“Why not?”
“If you want to have any kind of social life at Madisonville High, contact with me should be avoided. I’m contagious. You touch, I contaminate, you are rejected from all social circles. It’s like leprosy. Touch and destroy.”
I walk down the path and stand in front of him. “I’m not looking to get into any elite social circles.” I am hoping for the cold and the nightmares to go away; I am looking for memories; I am looking for… I don’t even know. I don’t tell him any of this, because, right now, I just don’t want him to walk away. “So I think I’ll be just fine.”
The silence drags its feet between us.
He clears his throat. “So, um, what did you do today?”
“Wander around. I was thinking about going into New Orleans, but…” I pause for a moment trying to pick the words. “I had transportation trouble.”
“Oh really?”
“Yeah.”
“Well, if you want I could drive you next week.” He shrugs, “I mean if you need a ride.”
I think about it for a moment. “Um, we’ll see. I’ll let you know. Thanks.” No way am I going to let him see me crumble like that.
“What are you going to do now?”
“I don’t know. Maybe rent a
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