Dawson is- most people who don't know him would say- as straight as they come. And senior year away from home promises to be a big year for him: no parents in sight, a whole new set of friends, he just seems to have it all. Not to mention that all t...
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WHARTON HIGH'S CLOISTER is crawling with preppy teens and Dawson regrets stepping into it the moment his foot touches the well-kept lawn. The porch surrounding its perimeter resembles seventeenth-century architecture and Dawson can't help but think it's extremely gaudy since the school's main building was actually constructed during the twenty-first century.
Dawson and Cal walk up to the rest of the group who's sitting on the grass, munching on sandwiches and bathing in sunlight. Abraham is lying down and Maisie-Rae is amiably chatting with Milo, whose attention is instantly drawn away by the object of his deepest desire: Calliope Jennings.
"Hey guys," she greets them, pulling her sunglasses over her head. Suddenly, it's like the rest of the world doesn't exist anymore to Milo.
"Hey, Cal," Milo dimples and Dawson wonders if Calliope is aware of how fond of her he is.
Abe sits up, grabbing his backpack and pulling out a big plastic bowl of salad. He hands it to Cal, who sits right beside Milo. The boy vigorously blushes.
Dawson sits next to Maisie-Rae who takes a tuna sandwich out of her saggy satchel. He shoots her an incredulous look. He's starving and he was really not expecting any of them to be considerate enough to get him lunch.
"I didn't know what you liked in your sandwich," she adds with a shy smile. It's obvious she still thinks Dawson is mad at her. They were in a good place and she thinks she's just ruined it with her bluntness.
Maisie-Rae knows she should learn to bite her tongue more, but she never quite manages to stop herself in time. She never thinks twice before opening her mouth to speak and that's why most of the times she ends up saying the wrong thing, or nothing at all.
"Thanks," he says, cautiously unwrapping his lunch.
"I'm sorry for saying those things about you," she whispers and, from the look on her face, she really means it.
"No need to apologize," Dawson's lips twitch into half a smile, "It's all true anyway."
Maisie-Rae sighs, "That doesn't make it better though, does it?"
"Not really," he shrugs, taking a bite of his sandwich. "But I know I'm gonna need some free passes in the future. I say stupid shit too."
She laughs, "Oh, that explains why you're so forgiving."
And, for the first time in months, Dawson's enjoying someone else's company more than his own. In a way, she reminds him of Mary-Ann. She conveys the same tranquility, she has the same infectious laughter.
"Did you hear about Hippolyte Jones?" Abe cracks open a can of Coke. The sugary drink starts gurgling down his throat. He lets out a sigh in delight.
Calliope looks just as confused as Dawson, being, in fact, just as clueless as he is. Except Dawson has no idea who Sebastian Dale even is, while Calliope seems to catch up on that. "No, what about him?
