Between You & Me - By Marisa Calin Page 0,11
sleepy pleasure before school starts. We haven’t spoken since yesterday morning; I went straight home after class. We don’t have theater today so there’s no need to concentrate and I haven’t felt like talking since I excelled at looking like an idiot.
YOU
Morning. To cheer you up.
You hand me a cup that gives gently as I take it, sending a fount of frothy milk and the spicy sweet scent of chai through the drinking hole. I slurp it off the lid as you hop up on the wall beside me, setting down your book bag.
YOU
This is a do-over.
So you recognize that I’m still thinking about bombing under pressure!
YOU
Everyone gets tongue-tied. I’m sure it was more noticeable to you.
Nice try—it would have been noticeable to a newt. You lean toward me reassuringly:
I said “great” five times in a sentence once.
Then, taking a breath, you turn to me properly.
Clearly you really care about what she thinks, so we’ll have a practice, for next time. I’ll be Mia.
I laugh. You set down your drink and put on a cutesy face.
Hey, Phyre. Great name. It’s nice to see you.
Still laughing, I take a swig of my chai, trying to play along.
ME
But you’re you.
You hesitate, subdued, reverting to your regular voice.
YOU
What do you mean?
ME
I mean I’m not nervous around you.
YOU
Oh, right.
Relief flashes into your eyes for a moment.
Then use your imagination!
You fan out your fingers ethereally and I smile, even if you are making fun of Mia’s class.
Evoke memories of Peele’s. The sounds, the smells …
So when you give me my cue:
Have you tried their chai?
ME
Why yes, Mia. It is so creamy and delicious …
You nod your encouragement.
… like a flower’s sweet nectar on a spring day. A golden pond caressed by the sun. Like, a cup … of chai.
You can’t suppress a laugh as I lapse into an impression of my inane jabbering from yesterday. And sitting here, watching you laughing in the sun, I know how lucky I am. You’re still smiling as we slip off the wall and collect our things.
YOU
Really, I think that went well. I found you fascinating!
ME
That’s me. Always something interesting to say.
I down the dregs of my drink as we head toward school. Thanks, I think, without saying it. I feel so much better. You’re the best!
We’re about to reach the steps when I hear the bell ring. Shit! I whip my head around and realize we’re the only ones on the lawn. We’re late! How did that happen? It feels like two minutes since we sat down. I grab your sleeve in a mild panic.
ME
No, I can’t have a late! That means lunchtime detention. I can’t have lunchtime detention.
Detention is Tuesday, the same day as Mia’s scene-study class.
YOU
No need to panic.
ME
Too late!
After a second, my crafty-plan face takes over and I can tell by your raised eyebrow that you know what I’m thinking.
ME
Come on. We have to try!
And just like that, I’m running.
Seconds later, you’re behind me.
YOU
Sure you want to do this, Phy?
ME
Sure as I’ve ever been.
I can hear your second eyebrow meet the first.
YOU
What’s gotten into you?
Such a plethora of emotions in your tone, it’s hard to make them all out. Confusion, amusement, resignation, possible admiration somewhere! And it’s true. Something a little crazy has come over me. It’s new territory. And so is the complex exploit of getting to homeroom unseen.
The principle is simple: the window in the corner of homeroom is behind a floor-to-ceiling bookcase, ground-floor access from the sports field. Make it to the window from the front of school, and you’re home free. The trick: it’s all about appearances. If you come out from behind the bookcase with the right “I’ve been here all the time” face, they get all turned around and are easily fooled.
I can see by your purposeful running that you’ve figured if we’re going to do this, we’re going to do it right, and as if on cue, you signal to my right.
YOU
We’ve got home ec in five, four, three …
The door opens and we flatten against the wall as Mrs. Kook appears from the main school building and crosses to the home ec block for first period. I smile a relieved Thanks and as we make the second run across the grass I start feeling the giddy tickle of a laugh. I’ve been known to laugh in tense situations. Uncontrollably. We have a fast enough pace that wind is whistling in my ears. The pure unexpectedness of suddenly having to run and a bloodstream full of sugar from