Hidden in Sheridan (Tainted Series: Book 1)

Moon: YOUNG

Levi - While I was too embarrassed to look at her, Ity had managed to slip away.

My face flushes with heat again as I review the facts. I had either chased her away from her friends, or she was coming to find me to ask why I’d been starring.

“You scared her off.” Sterling says forgetting my injury and nudging me hard in the side. I bite back the pain and jab my own elbow into Sterlings ribs. A heavy whoosh of air pushes out of Sterling and as he stumbles back. His hand shoots out and grabs hold of the fence to steady himself.

“What?” I joke under the belief Sterling was pretending but I pause when his hand lifts to the tender spot near his chest where I had hit him.

“Nothing,” Sterling says in a strained voice, he coughs to pull in a shaky breath. “You just caught me by surprise, man.” Sterling straightens and pushes me playfully back.

Okay, he’s fine.

“I should thank her … If I run into her … right?” I ask. I look to my friend for any sort of confirmation but that’s not what I get.

“You mean, thank her for cleaning up your insides as they spewed out onto her rich foster families floor?” He asks instead.

“Why would you say spew? Don’t ever say spew.” I insist, for good reason, the word itself is disgusting.

I scratch my head in frustration and decide it’s safer to leave now and avoid any embarrassment.

“I’ll meet you at Rhydian’s truck.” I say.

Rhydian calls after me, “Where are you going?” The muffled sounds that follow suggests Sterling answered for me.

The arena fence leads across to a small corral where three steers have been standing calmly undisturbed. Until I approach. Suddenly they became anxious, pushing each other, trying to get as far from me as possible. I turn to head toward the playground bathrooms and water fountain, across the gravel road.

I don’t usually go to the bathroom to hide but today the two necessities fit nicely together. Plus, I could take my time using the bathroom and surely she’ll be gone when I get out. Lifetime of embarrassment avoided.

The old bathrooms are made of large white-washed cinderblocks, I round the old structure and my heart leaps into my throat. There she is. Standing a few yards down the smooth cinderblock wall. Her beige backpack is slung over one shoulder, with her red hoodie now zipped halfway up. A slight smirk touches the corner of her mouth and my skin begins to buzz, but with humiliation or excitement, I can’t tell the difference.

Fully aware my expression resembles a look of panic and I wonder how I can to play it off as something else. The awkward laugher bubbles out my mouth almost instantly. Ity raises her hand slightly, her fingers wiggling in a wave. Without permission, my own hand moves. It lifts until the back of it sheepishly touches the end of my cold nose, and then I close in the remaining distance between us.

“Hi,” I stammer, forcing my hand back to my side. Her lips turn up in a full smile sending a series of flutters through heart, which will never be repeated to those idiots I left back on the fence.

Ity’s hands did their small and simple gestures. Each movement should be familiar to me, I have been practicing for at least six months. Sign language isn’t an easy skill to learn, but by this time I should be able to handle small talk. As long as it follows the scripted conversation from Youtube.

However at this moment … my head is full of cotton and the only thought that manages to form is, ’man she’s pretty’.

More blood rushes to my head, and I try to physically shake a new thought into my brain. It works, but the next thought isn’t much help either. A image of her face flashed into his mind. Her face from that moment I had been caught starring. Which in turn, led to me to blurting, “I wasn’t starring … well I was … but I wasn’t exactly starring at you … or maybe … I … okay! I was starring at you. I should just own up to it. I know. Your pretty and your probably used to … no … not that you know your pretty and that your stuck up … where did stuck up come from … ”

By this time my voice is cracking in that lovely way teenage boys voices do but Ity doesn’t stop me. She rolls her eyes and reaches for me. Both of her hands clamp down on my shoulders, and she physically turns me. Squaring up my shoulders to face her.

I stop talking and she pats both of my shoulders twice, approving of my choice to shut up. Then she pulls up my Ironman T-shirt, just enough to reveal my bandage.

Though my blood pressure dangerously elevates to possible cardiac arrest, a whoosh of relief washes over me, and I remember she had been present post bite.

“I’m okay.” I smile, my inner voice giddy at the fact she’s concerned for me. “And thank you. I wanted to thank you.” Her head quirks sideways looking up at me, and our eyes meet. They are still the same green they were the last time I starred at her. Swirls of green iris outlined with a thick border of dark silver, then a black pupil in the center. Her long eyelashes blinked across her symmetrical eyelids.

I force myself not to get lost inside them, “I owe you for helping me. So … “ The words catch like a fishhook on the lump in my throat.

I can do this, I thought. It’s a good thing it wasn’t out loud because it wasn’t very unconvincing.

My reason and timing to ask her out, is perfectly legitimate. It won’t be weird. It is socially acceptable to offer to take her to a movie, or to lunch as a Thank You for helping me. Actually, lunch would be perfect. Lunch could happen now. I wouldn’t have to set it for a later day and then screw it up by being me or by giving her time to cancel.

OH! I can take her to the new sandwich shop down on Main Street. I’d eaten there twice, and they have a ridiculously good BLT. I wonder if she likes BLT’s. I know she eats sandwiches. She packs one for her lunch every Tuesday and Thursday, but not Monday’s and Friday’s. She always disappears during lunch on those days. I figure she eats off campus but …

“Ity!” Char Mickelson, a peppy girl with very poor timing, at least today. She waves at Ity from across the road. “We’re going to eat at Cowboy Cafe, come on.”

Ity waves reassuringly to Char before returning her eyes to me. The smile that pulls across her lips is stiff but still gentle. She looks down at my injured side one more time before releasing my shirt from her fist. I do my best to be suave, as I tuck my shirt back into the lip of my pants. I fight a wince as I repeatedly bump bandages, but continue to smile.

“Have fun.” I say. The words tumble out of my mouth before I realize it.

I hear her sigh, it’s the only sound that she ever makes, almost like she does it deliberately, to make sure everyone hears her breathe.

Then she leaves.

I watch her long dark hair billow behind her as she trots away to be with the group a girls eager to leave for lunch on Main Street. The lunch on Main Street I should be having with her!

I fight the urge to plant the palm of my hand into my face and instead continue to smile. My hands firmly at my side I stand stiff, until the sound of giggles is silenced by the slamming of multiple car doors. It is only when the car had speed out of sight that my painted smile melts away.

You know that feeling you get when something good ends, and you realize you screwed it up because you’re an idiot? Every teenage boy knows this feeling well. It’s called shame and I can feel it fill my face, draining away all color from it and leaving me as white washed as the cinderblock wall.

I find an appropriate spot on the wall, upon which I proceed to be one with the wall. Hands dead at my sides, I repeatedly shove my forehead into it. Anyone passing by would think I lost my mind, or was being beating by an invisible poltergeist.

Whack. Whack. Whack.

“Uh, Levi?” Sterling says, and I pause with my forehead pressed to the warm cinderblock. “You’re the color of beet soup, man.”

“Borscht,” I mutter the proper term for the soup he’s referenced. Not that anyone cares.

My sympathetic friend starts to put a comforting arm around my shoulders, but changes his mind. I can feel him pull it awkwardly away and instead he puts his hand on the back of my head, flattening my face into the stationary wall. I thought about slightly turning to keep my nose from being smooshed, and but I’m pretty sure I deserve what I get.

My nose and mouth pressed into the dirty bathroom wall.

“What did you do?” He says, as if scolding an untrained puppy.

“I almost asked her out.” I say. My squished face distorting my voice to match the lament of a loser.

Suddenly, Sterling removes his hand and his face appears in my peripheral vision. His eyebrows raised as he speaks in a sincere tone, “Wow, you got that far? Good Job.”

“I screwed it up.” I insist, rolling my face to the side and pressing my cheek against the cement, eyelids droopy. “I was so close but the words …”

“It amazes me that when talking to the mute girl, you are the only person who can’t get a word in.” Sterling laughs but he keeps it short, out of kindness.

“Shut up.” I growl, rolling until my back presses against the wall, I wipe what feels like mud from my sweaty cheek.

“She stopped you this time, right?” Sterling asks. He knew I was accustomed to watching her from a far, so in his mind if we managed to engage in any interaction, it had to have been initiated by Ity.

I point to my side. “She wanted to know if I was okay.”

Sterling’s head shakes at me, his hopeless friend. Ever since Ity moved into town I have been fascinated with her. With Sterling’s help, I keep it from bordering on scary stalker level … usually.

Sterling’s hand moves again, this time finding my shoulder with a comforting squeeze. “Let’s get you home. You need some sleep.”

I shake my head, “I have to go check on Wendy.”

“I’ll do that, for you. You look horrible.”

“You don’t have a car.”

“That’s why we know him,” Sterling thumb-points over his own shoulder to a shiny Ford four door truck. Rhydian waves out the drivers side window and Sterling starts to pull me toward the car, but I resist.

“What now?” He asks,

With my head and shoulders hanging shamefully I sigh, “I still have to pee.”

I assume Sterling doesn’t object. He lets me turn and waddle toward the door.

CHAPTER END