Let It Be

Chapter 6

It seemed as if I had finally made a breakthrough in my effort to become acquaintances with Sam Durand. But I was still surprised when he turned to me as soon as I got to Geography the next day, asking with a hint of anxiety if I had done the Calculus homework. I didn't know he had that class; must have been in a different period. Wait, how did he know that I had Calculus?

"I missed the class yesterday, and didn't get the notes for the test today," he explained.

When I came back to my senses, I blurted an original, "Sure," and handed them to him. He read over them, and gave them back to me ten minutes later looking relieved.

I felt a bit confused the rest of the period.

The remainder of the week, I mustered up the courage to smile casually at Sam when I saw him in between classes or give him a quick greeting in passing. The first time I did it, he watched me with an insanely confused expression as he walked by. I nearly expected him to run into a wall he was so startled.

Hey, I told myself. Might as well. And so I continued. And he eventually started tipping his head in a small nod of acknowledgement.

As strange as it seemed, I was beginning to really like Sam. He was kind of cool. And I enjoyed his company now that hate didn't radiate from him.

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Tuesday, we spent second period studying independently. Halfway through the period, I shifted in my chair and caught a glance of Sam out of the corner of my eye. He sat kiddy-corner to me in the next row over, behind me. I assumed he had a pretty good view of my right ear.

But just then, Sam was staring at me. Staring without blinking his pretty brown eyes. But not just staring with a glare, or confusion, but with shock. Bewilderment with a touch of anxiety glazing his eyes. Fear seeped from his golden irises to the thick fringe of brown lashes and shone through the lenses of his glasses. Fear.

I didn't look back at him, didn't let him know I saw him looking. My stomach churned my orange juice breakfast violently. It looked like he had just figured out something serious about me. Gosh, had he honestly found out something? What did he know?

I didn't let myself panic for very long. There was no way he could have known anything. Everything about the last few years of my life was sealed away in silence. Silent as government sealed documents could be.

He must have discovered something that he'd made a differing assumption about. Something normal, something average. Maybe he had seen volleyball practice this morning on the way to school and seen that I actually had talent despite my scrawniness? Maybe he found out that I had a four-point-oh, that I was smart? Maybe he finally noticed the birthmark behind my right ear.

I put my hand to it self-consciously. Oh, come on, it wasn't that bad. Not enough to justify the look he was giving me.

I stared down at my desk, studied my blue pen and the ink smear on the side of my pinky finger. Maybe he was just really tired, staring out into space, and had realized something that had absolutely nothing to do with me. Yeah, that had to be it, I decided. I'm not that exciting.

I was flustered nonetheless. I shuffled my feet, sneaking a tiny glance back at Sam. He was still looking, same expression. I walked to Mr. Fitzpatrick's desk to get a hall pass. He gave me permission to go to the bathroom, where I lingered, trying to waste time. I scrubbed at the ink on my hand with the neon pink hand soap in the bathroom. I'd have to get a pen with faster drying ink to avoid these smears again. The soap smelled weird.

When I came back into the classroom and took my seat, Sam didn't look at me. His face was stone again, just like it was when we first met. Only now it was a scowl of determination. He flicked a glance at me through his eyelashes, then looked pointedly back to his English homework.

And that was that. He never looked at me like that again. I figured he was just having an off moment, a brain lapse. I let it pass.

But it really was quite strange.

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That Friday at lunch, I took a deep breath and made my way over to the tree where Sam spent his time when the weather was good.

Well, this was it. All my efforts to be a different person, a confident new person and to befriend Samuel Durand would come down to this moment, and I wasn't quite sure why I was doing it. I just did it.

I sat down beside him under the tree and pulled out an orange.

"What are you doing?" Sam asked, completely shocked.

Nervousness raised in my blood. What was I doing? I was going to ruin it all, all my efforts to get him to not hate me. Didn't I remember the last time I had attempted to sit next to him at lunch?

But I knew a different Sam now. His misunderstood, too-cool-to-care façade had started to fade in a few areas. And I was curious to see what lied beneath. So, bucking up, I replied, "Um, it's called sitting. Ever heard of it, Sam? It's usually what friends do together."

"No one sits here but me."

I grabbed my backpack. Oh well. It had been worth a try. "Well, fine, I'll leave."

"No," he mended. "I didn't mean it like that. I just..." His eyes searched my face, flicking back and forth behind his glasses like he couldn't understand me. "You do know you're committing social suicide, right?"

I shrugged. Yeah. I probably was. "Well, why would I care? If they're so shallow that they'd shun me because I talk to you, then why would I want to associate with them?"

"I wouldn't want you to limit yourself."

"Look, if I'm stressing you out, then I'll leave."

"No—"

"I can take a hint, Sam."

"Abby, wait. I want you to stay." He seemed surprised to hear it come out of his mouth. He paused a second, considering, then continued, "I'm just not used to people wanting to talk to me. It's new to me."

"Well, you should get over it, because I like talking to you. And plan on doing so."

Sam looked over at me intently as I relaxed on the grass next to him and watched me peel my orange. I let him without complaint. "I like you, Abby Shea," he stated.

I blinked in surprise. "Why, thanks, Sam Durand. I just so happen to think you're a pretty cool person."

Sam paused and looked at me seriously. "Thank you," he said genuinely.

"It's the truth."

And then it finally happened: Sam smiled. Geez Louise, it was beautiful, all white sparkly teeth and gentle eyes. I shook off my surprise and fascination, begging myself to gain my composure and look away from those warm eyes. "Um..." I stuttered. "What are you reading?"