Hiding From Us

53. erick

‘‘One hundred.’’

     ‘‘Eighty.’’

     ‘‘It’s gotta be at least triple digits.’’ 

     ‘‘Maybe for a whole day, if you’re an adult or whatever. But a regular cost is eighty.’’

     ‘‘How the hell is a day pass eighty dollars?’’

     ‘‘How the hell can it be a hundred?’’

     Josh Matthews and I stopped arguing over the price of this year’s ski pass as Dylan Greene took a seat in front of us. ‘‘Guys,’’ he said, brushing his shaggy blond hair from his eyes, ‘‘it varies from seventy-five to ninety-two, depending on your age.’’ 

     Josh frowned at me. ‘‘Well, screw you, bro.’’

     He and Dylan started chatting about skiing and different moves and great runs. I felt completely left out—not just because I was a snowboarder, but because I was sitting in a class full of tenth graders. Apparently, my grade average in English last year was seven percent too low, so I had to retake the course, which meant sitting in a classroom full of sassy kids and listening to stuff I had already done last year.

     The only advantage was that Shain was in this class. But today she wasn’t here.

     I didn’t even know why. I’d texted her as I’d gotten to school, because I was still wondering where we stood in our relationship; yesterday had been one week since our (almost) six-month anniversary. She loved English class, so why would she miss it?

     Mrs. Timbers started the lesson and told us to review our poetry entries with our friends. I looked at Josh, and Josh looked at Dylan, and Dylan looked at me, so we all faced each other a read our poems. Josh’s was dark and moody, Dylan’s was mysteriously humble, and I was just about to start mine—

     —and the door opened just loudly enough for everyone to hear it, and we all looked up, and we all watched Shain enter the room with Liam on her heels, both of them dressed hastily in jeans that looked already worn and hoodies. One of Shain’s Chuck Taylors wasn’t done up. Liam’s hair was a mess.

     The whole class was silent.

     Mrs. Timbers frowned. Shain was one of the best students in English 10. She was practically never late to a class. And suddenly here she was, arriving twenty minutes after the lesson started, with Liam trailing behind her.

     I was terrified.

     She passed by my desk. I reached out my hand and brushed her fingers just slightly, and she looked at me with this expression in her eyes, like she was wondering who I was and what the hell I was doing in this class.

     I opened my mouth to say something.

     Then Liam stopped, looked at Shain, looked at me, and put his fingers to the small of her back, like he was a cop or something. Move along. There’s nothing to see here. Like I was a distraction to her and he was trying to push me away.

     Oh God. What had she done with him?

     For the rest of the class, I was silent. I listened to Mrs. Timbers explain the value of metaphors and similes. I watched Shain. I wrote down a list of nouns converted to metaphorical symbols. I mentally strangled Liam. I was so distracted.

     i love you i love you i love you please don’t leave me

     They were too close. Shain’s regular partner wasn’t here to day, so that meant that Liam could steal the seat next to her. I watched as he smiled at her and poked at her. She grinned shyly at something he whispered, and Liam moved even closer to put a hand on her thigh, much too intimate to be just a friendly touch. Shain didn’t pull away either; instead, she flashed her eyes down to his lips and seemed to gravitate towards him even more.