Being Henry David - By Cal Armistead Page 0,20

my walk to longer, more confident strides and stare back with hardened eyes, holding their glances hostage until they are forced to look away.

“Hey, Danielle,” Hailey says to a tall blond girl near the entrance of the building. She’s wearing a lacrosse uniform like Hailey’s, although in comparison, the baggy clothes look shapeless on her.

Danielle smiles. “Hailey,” she says, cutting a friendly, curious glance at me. But she looks back at Hailey and her smile falls. “Girl, you’re pale. You need some juice or something?”

“I’m fine,” says Hailey quickly. But I take a good look at her and see that Danielle’s right. Her cheeks, which should’ve been flushed from walking a mile in the cold April air, are white. I’d been too distracted by my surroundings to notice, which makes me feel like a jerk.

“I might have some candy in my backpack,” Danielle says.

“I told you. I’m fine,” Hailey says, this time through clenched teeth.

Glancing from one to the other, I don’t know what to do, other than change the subject and distract everybody. I clear my throat. “Hi,” I say to Danielle. “I’m Hank.”

Danielle looks me over, and her smile returns.

“I found him near the train station,” Hailey says. “Trying to find Walden Pond.”

“Hello, Hank,” Danielle says. “Wow, you have the most gorgeous gray eyes ever.”

“Dan-yell.” Hailey flashes her friend a terse “cut it out” look. I try to hide a smile.

Danielle shrugs. “Well, he does.”

I peer behind the girls into the high school building and glimpse a glass case of sports trophies and a hallway lined with lockers. Where did I go to school and what did I do? Did I actually run track? Was I smart? Did I have a cute girlfriend like Hailey who I took to school dances and made out with in my mother’s car? That is, if I have a mother and if she has a car. Before another surge of blackness hits, I push these thoughts away.

“It’s really nice to meet both of you,” I say politely. “But I should probably get going before it gets dark, you know?” Besides, Danielle is still eyeing Hailey like she wants to give her CPR or a transfusion or something. None of my business, but I can see Hailey is embarrassed, so this would be the perfect time for me to disappear.

A flash of disappointment crosses Hailey’s face, but then she recovers. “Okay, so keep walking past the school, down that road,” she says, pointing off to the right. “You’ll hit Route Two which is a major road, and cross over. Then all you need to do is walk like another half mile. Straight shot, lots of signs. You’ll see it on your right.”

“Great. Thanks.”

Then she looks up at me and gives me this weird, sad little smile. Like she knows me and is sad to see me leave so soon, though in my bizarre rootless state, I could be imagining this. “So, Hank, let me know when you move to Concord, okay?”

I smile back at her. “Sure.”

“Oh.” She reaches into the back pocket of her shorts and pulls out a cell phone. “I should get your number then. And give you mine.”

I pause for a beat. “My number?”

“Yeah. That’s okay, right?”

I look at her phone. Surely I have one, or had one, back when I was a normal person. “Well, I don’t have a phone right now. I’m getting a new one. With a new number.” Hailey looks disappointed, like she suspects I’m trying to blow her off. “So, would you write yours down for me?” I ask quickly.

Hailey perks up again and I notice a dimple in her left cheek. “Got a piece of paper?”

“No.” I pause. “But I do have this.” I pull the book out of the back of my jeans and open it up to the back cover. “You can write it down here.”

Danielle digs into her backpack and gives Hailey a pen. In big loopy handwriting, Hailey writes her name and phone number inside the back cover of Walden. For good measure, she draws a little flower next to her name.

“See you around, Hank,” she says.

“Later, Hailey. Bye, Danielle.”

And as I stride down the high school driveway, I feel Hailey’s eyes on me, along with the eyes of her friends. To tell you the truth, it’s not a bad feeling at all.

When I cross Route Two, I come to a big green sign that reads: Walden Pond State Reservation. Almost there.

The sounds of the highway fade as I take