Saving Laurel

11. The Princess

Laurel Gilroy

It was pure curiosity.

That's all.

I rub my eyes, the light of my phone like a million little daggers, stinging and probing and even though it's late, or early, I can't stop watching YouTube videos of people with Tourette's.

It's purely research.

A grimace twists my face as I watch a particular video, again. The person is having a "tic attack", they're a flurry of movements, all of which look unnatural and unpleasant. It's enough to make me close out the app on my phone and let my eyes succumb to darkness.

                          ————————

"Laurel!" My name is screamed through the open courtyard as soon as I push open the doors. "Laurel!"

It's easy to figure out where the racket is coming from. Ellie standing at her spot, waving her hand over her head like a maniac. She waves me over like we're best friends.

Wes is staring at me, so I purposefully look anywhere but at him, giving Ellie a pathetic wave in hopes it shows that I'm not interested and definitely not accepting her invite.

"I'm not gonna stop until you sit with us!" She screams as I start for my lone tree. 

"It's true she won't." James comments. "That's how I wound up here."

Everyone at the table laughs but Ellie who's trying to untuck her legs from the picnic table. I can already tell what's about to happen. She's going to come link arms with me again and physically escort me to the table where she wants me. Teagan did the same stuff to me all the time at my old school.

So I blow out a breath and change direction for their table. Taking the only spot available, I look longingly at the tree I've designated as my spot and tuck myself right next to Ellie, directly across from Wes.

"Yay! We finally have our princess!" Ellie squeals.

"You're what?" My eyebrows raise so far up my forehead they might have well flown off my head.

I am not a princess. I am not perfect.

"You're the princess duh." She say it like it's obvious. "The Breakfast Club. Savannah refused but now that you're here, we finally have everyone."

"How do you figure?" James bites into a sandwich, half of it gone after the single motion.

Using her celery stick covered in peanut butter Ellie points at James. "The Athlete." She shifts to Brett. "The Brain". Then to Savannah. "The Artist because she's difficult." Then to herself. "The Basket Case." Then to me. "The Princess." And finally her celery stick lands on Wes. "And the Criminal."

"What?" Wes blurts, eyes wide. "Why am I the Criminal?" And then his head jerks up and he whistles. As soon as he's done, his eyes meet mine before a blush creeps across his cheeks and he drops his head back down to the table.

It's sort of cute the way he blushes.

Mason never blushed.

"Duh, you're like a young Judd Nelson." Ellie doesn't miss a beat, biting into her celery and then waving it at Wes. "What with the flannels and the jean jacket and all that."