Flecks of Gold Page 2

  “Well, it was nice meeting you, Mary Margaret. See you around.” Which probably meant, “I might see you, but don’t expect me to talk to you.”

  “Yeah, see you. Thanks for the kumquat thing,” I said, holding the little fruit up like an idiot.

  “Right. Tell me what you think.” He waved a final decisive good-bye.

  I berated myself for my complete cheesiness. What was up with me this morning? So I’d never been the world’s most popular kid. Even if I was a bit of an outcast, I’d never had this much trouble making small talk before.

  I went to the office and got my schedule, then headed to my first period class—chemistry. I found the room a little before the bell rang. Two girls in designer outfits were talking and laughing near the back of the class. Several boys drooled openly over them. The back was my favorite place to sit, so I approached the seat next to the girl with perfectly styled blonde hair wearing a tight, blue v-neck shirt and black pants. She looked up at me. I felt a twinge of regret for not choosing my outfit more carefully. My jeans were two years old, and my green washed-out shirt and old jacket hung on my body like a limp rag.

  “This seat is saved.” The blonde girl eyed my towering height as if it disgusted her.

  “Sorry.” I smiled tightly, looking into her eyes.

  She recoiled. “Wow, Suze, take a look at this girl’s freaky eyes.” The rest of the students in the room turned to look. I dropped my gaze and quickly sat down a few seats away.

  “Seriously, they’re like tiger eyes or something. It’s scary, and she’s like ten feet tall,” the girl continued loudly.

  The bell rang, shutting the blonde up, but I kept my eyes cast down through the hour to avoid curious classmates trying to snatch a glimpse of the one-woman freak show. After awhile I felt the other kids’ eyes drift away and ignore me again. I noticed that no one ever came to sit in the “saved” seat. I slouched in my chair and simply endured, wishing I’d put off coming to school.

  After class I went up to the teacher to ask him what I needed to do to catch up.

  “I’m sorry,” he said in an oddly high voice. “I didn’t even see you. You should have said something.”

  “It’s okay.” I was used to being overlooked. Sometimes I felt like it was almost magical the way my giant, tiger-eyed self could go unnoticed.

  The teacher gave me my assignments, and I glumly left the room.

  I was glad when it was finally lunch. English hadn’t gone well either, and my nerves were on overload. A traitorous part of me was angry with Mom for choosing pond scum as a boyfriend, but the bigger part of me knew it wasn’t her fault. I really didn’t feel like being rejected again, so I sat down at an empty table near a corner of the lunch room.

  I was wallowing in a small, but beautifully decorated pity party, complete with imaginary streamers, so at first I didn’t hear my name.

  “Hello? I’m talking to you, Mary Margaret,” someone said.

  I looked up, startled. “What? Oh, uh, Kelson. I didn’t hear you.”

  “Yeah, I got that. So can I sit here or what?”

  “Sure.” I felt confused, but Kelson just plunked down, a sigh escaping his lips. A fresh wash of unfamiliar, worshipful thoughts swooped into my head.

  “Today’s been horrible. My teachers must have conspired to assign a dune full of homework for the same day. I think they want to see if they can make us have a break up.”

  My brow furrowed at “break up.” Was that a funny new way of saying break down? And what about the “dune” thing? Maybe he was a writer.

  Then my cynical thoughts dulled and drifted away. “I’ve wondered if teachers tell each other when they’re going to give tests so that they can all do it on the same day,” I said. That wasn’t too bad. I’d managed to refrain from gushing, but I wondered why I was even concerned about what I said to Kelson. I didn’t do boys. I would talk to the occasional guy in an acquaintance kind of way, but I’d never been interested in pursuing a boy, no matter how cute—or rather, especially if I thought he was cute.

  “Yeah, I mean, it’s not like I can study all the time,” he said.

  “Hmm,” I said, sorting out my thoughts. Kelson was just a normal person. I could handle this. I’d never let crushes affect my behavior before, but the romantic blue-hued feelings were hard to ignore.

  “Sometimes I wish I were magic and could just stop time long enough to get caught up with everything. Do you ever wish that?” He looked at me intently.

  I started to grin like a loyal puppy, caught myself, and merely curved my lips courteously. I fought against agreeing with him, even though the swirling cacophony in my head wanted to. “I’m actually glad there’s no such thing as magic. The world has enough complications as it is.”

  “Are you sure?” The tide of romantic thoughts receded, and I could almost swear I saw a calculated look in his eyes.

  “So, I didn’t see you in any of my classes this morning,” I said.

  He grinned. “No. What classes did you have?”

  “Chemistry and English.”

  “Oh, well I had P.E., then chemistry. What do you have this afternoon?”

  I checked my schedule. “American government, then art.”

  “Great! I have government too. We can walk together.”

  He kept giving me an intense stare that thrilled and unnerved me at the same time. I needed a break from that intensity, so I told Kelson I had to stop at the bathroom for a minute and would meet him at the stairs.

  I wanted to relax, but I was caught in the most unusual jumble of sensations. Kelson was gorgeous. I felt irresistibly drawn to him, which was what was freaking me out. I was not the kind of person to be overcome by good looks. In fact, I didn’t trust most men as far as I could throw them. Something had overridden my carefully cultivated safeguards, and I didn’t like it one bit.

  As I turned these thoughts over in the bathroom, I remembered the kumquat, still in my backpack. Swinging the bag around, I pulled it out, rinsed it off in the yellowed sink, and looked up into the cracked mirror, scrutinizing myself. I had to have gotten my hair from my dad. No one on Mom’s side had chocolate brown hair.

  As I bit the kumquat, juice squirted onto the corner of the bathroom mirror. A sour taste hit my tongue almost as strong as a lemon, but then sweetness spread through my mouth, leaving behind a pleasant aftertaste.

  The taste reminded me of my confused emotions about Kelson. He seemed so sweet, but there was this indefinable feeling I got around him, like an aftertaste, that I couldn’t tell if I liked or not. But why was I so determined to find something bad in the one good thing that had happened today? I shook myself and went to meet him at the stairs. When I approached, he smiled, and I chided myself for being so suspicious of every man alive.

  We reached American government, and Kelson sat next to me near the back. Despite the teacher’s theatrical outbursts, it was hard to concentrate on the lesson. Kelson’s presence next to me felt palpable, like a firm pressure on the side of my body.

  I was glad to leave that class and head to art. If art couldn’t make me relax, nothing could. The smell of wet clay, turpentine, and paint hit me as I walked in. My shoulders loosened. No one talked to me, but in art I didn’t care. I simply took up a piece of paper and began to draw what the teacher instructed, losing myself in the detail of the skull that sat on the table in front of me.

  Like Mom, I considered myself an artist, but I was pretty sure no one saw their art the way I saw mine. When I lost myself in my subject, it was as if there was another hidden element, just out of reach. When I drew, I not only saw lines and shadows, but a different shape at the edge of the subject. It was more than imagination. It was a view that was beyond simple sight, a pressure like what I’d felt when sitting next to Kelson. It was something I knew I could grasp if I only had a key to understanding how. Whenever I contemplated this second sight, I felt slightly silly, but it was hard to dismiss it as my imagination when I saw the golden patterns so of
ten.

  The bell rang sooner than I expected, and I wondered why my other classes couldn’t have gone by as quickly. As I transferred piles of homework from my locker to my already overstuffed backpack, I noticed Kelson with a group of guys in blue letterman jackets. Short-skirted girls in tight shirts dripped off the boys’ arms like jewelry.

  I studied Kelson covertly. He looked so at ease, so normal. His jacket was slightly different from the other guys, and I briefly wondered why. A sappy urge to walk over and say hello floated through my head as I watched, but when I looked away, I was gripped by a strong desire to flee his presence and feel like myself again. I strode quickly out of school, ready to get home and complain about the day to Mom. I’d walked about a block when I heard someone approaching from behind.

  “Mary Margaret, wait up,” Kelson said. A whoosh of warmth, which somehow made me picture a blue-white mist, spread through me. It was pleasant, but my stomach clenched in reaction, and I turned around slowly. Amorous thoughts swam through my brain.

  “Hi. How was your first day of school?”

  “Fine.” I stuffed my hands in my pockets.

  “You must have a lot of stuff to catch up on.”

  “Yeah, but I don’t mind. I don’t have much else to do. So what’s your letterman jacket for?” I asked, trying to divert the conversation from me.

  He hesitated, and I had a funny impression that he was trying to think of an answer. “Swimming,” he finally said.

  “That’s cool.” Thinking of follow-up questions was difficult with my head full of Kelson’s blue eyes. I tried to clear my mind. “Why is your jacket different from the other guys at school?”

  “I didn’t really letter in this school. Actually, I just moved here awhile ago.”

  “Oh, where did you come from?” I asked, trying to concentrate.

  “Iberloah.” He gave me the strangest look, curious and mischievous, and so intense I looked away. “Have you heard of it?”

  “No. It sounds really unusual. What state is it in?” I thought that it sounded more like a foreign name, but Kelson didn’t have a hint of an accent.

  “It’s a small town in Mitiga—ah, I mean Michigan. No one who doesn’t live there even knows about it.”

  I looked away, finding it easier to think that way. I’d never heard of the town, but Michigan was no desert. Hadn’t Kelson said earlier he’d lived in a desert his whole life?

  “Do you swim?” he asked out of the blue. It took me a second to change gears.

  “A little. I was kind of on a team in middle school.”

  “Maybe we could go swimming sometime.” His grin now looked almost hungry.

  I shivered. “Maybe.” Something was bugging me, but it was like a ball of knotted yarn in my head.

  We reached my house and stopped in front of the cactus garden.

  “Well, I’ll see you around.”

  “Yeah, thanks.”

  Watching Kelson walk away again triggered the memory of the sour sweet aftertaste of the kumquat. Unease accompanied me into the house.

  Mom wasn’t home, and I found a sticky note on the fridge reminding me that she’d be home by 5:30. I’d forgotten that she’d gotten a job. I was happy she’d found something so quickly, but a job at the Bernard Packing Company didn’t seem like a good fit. I wondered if she’d worn one of her long beaded shirts. They were her favorite, but if she was moving boxes they might get caught. I put my disappointment aside and settled down to do pointless English worksheets.

  Mom didn’t come home until six. The dinner I’d made was cold, and I was considering calling the number on the fridge when she walked painfully through the front door.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes.” She sat down on the recliner with a groan. “No. I didn’t think it would be so hard. My arms feel like jell-o, and my back aches, and look,” she warbled miserably, holding up the end of her beaded shirt. Several strands had been torn out.

  “Oh, Mom, I’m sorry. Maybe you shouldn’t wear a beaded shirt tomorrow.”

  “I don’t think I have any without beads,” she said helplessly. I could tell that her exhaustion was making her melodramatic.

  “You can borrow mine. Why don’t you eat and then head to bed early?” I microwaved a plate of shepherd’s pie and took it to her in the living room.

  “So today was your first day at a new school. How’d it go?” She tried to put energy into her inquiry.

  “I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. Just go to bed, okay? I don’t want you collapsing on the job.”

  “All right, but I want to hear all about it tomorrow.”

  I cleaned up dinner and then went to curl up in the easy chair. By the time I started reading my chemistry textbook my eyes were drooping. Without realizing, I drifted off to sleep, the book sliding from my fingers to the floor.

  Chapter 2

  When I woke, a wild orange rose with pink tips rested atop my homework on the coffee table. It was already wilting from lack of water, and its fragrance tickled my nose. I was surprised that Mom had gotten up so early. I just hoped she would fare better at her job today.

  I quickly dressed, shouldered my backpack, and lurched through the door. Kelson was walking slowly past my house when I came out.

  “Hey,” I said.

  “How’s it going, Mary Margaret?”

  “Fine, I guess.” Talking to him seemed easier now. The pressure I had felt yesterday was still there, but less intense, like a phantom touch compared to the strong push from before.

  “So why’d you move here in the middle of the school year?” Kelson asked.

  “It’s because of this guy,” I said. “It turned out he was only dating my mom to steal her paintings, and then he threatened us. Anyway, we moved here because we weren’t sure what else to do.”

  I wanted to pull the words back into my mouth. Why did I tell him that? When we reached the school, I still felt disconcerted.

  “Well, I’ll see you around,” he said.

  Right. No comments, nothing. I’d said too much, and I could tell he just wanted to escape. Part of me was glad, but another part, one that was growing alarmingly fast, was miserable. I tried to wipe away my feelings as I went to my first class of the B-day schedule. It was called adult roles, and I was only taking it to learn some budgeting skills so Mom and I wouldn’t starve. Scanning the room, I was shocked to see Kelson waving at me. I wondered why he was in the class.

  I hesitated before sitting next to him, but there was nothing else I could do. If I sat somewhere else, he’d be offended, and so far he was the only person who’d been nice to me.

  The class was intriguing, but I could tell Kelson was bored. He kept glancing at me like he wanted to talk, but I buried my nose in my notebook.

  He caught me on the way out of class. “So, Mary Margaret, where are you off to next?”

  Did he always have to use my full name? “Computer graphics.”

  “Hey, really? Me too. I’ll walk with you.”

  We arrived just as the bell rang. The only free computers were across the room from each other so Kelson and I separated. I felt like I had a split personality. I wanted to get away from him, but I also wanted to be near him. Every time I saw him, I felt a sweep of warm fog and my stomach flipped. When the bell rang, Kelson came up to me, smiling.

  “You want to go to lunch?” my mouth blurted without my consent.

  “Yeah, let’s go.”

  We sat down at an empty table in the corner of the lunchroom, and I started to relax. Kelson started talking about the wonders of modern technology, and even though I thought it was a little strange—after all, Michigan wasn’t exactly stuck in the Stone Age—I was glad I could sit there and just nod when expected.

  After my next class, medical anatomy, I got lost looking for calculus, so when I walked in I was too flustered to do anything but sit down quickly. Then I felt a swell of warmth. I looked up, and there, sitting across from me, was Kelson. I felt confused, thinking he sho
uldn’t be there, but as I looked into his eyes, I couldn’t remember why his presence would be strange. A soft blanket enfolded my mind, and I felt flushed and giddy. It was hard to concentrate with Kelson’s presence dominating my thoughts, and I shook my head several times to clear the fog, but it didn’t work. As soon as the bell clanged, I rushed out of the classroom

  I almost ran to my locker, but I wasn’t fast enough. Kelson was waiting for me right outside. At the sight of him, I felt my knees give way a little, and the fog rushed back.

  “Hi,” he said.

  My brain refused to come up with any words, even “hello.” I just couldn’t look away from his crystal blue eyes.

  “Walk with me?” Even though it was formed as a question, it was a command. He held out his hand, a smile playing on his mouth. I watched in astonishment as my hand reached out and grabbed his. We started walking, and warmth spread up my arm.

  I wondered idly, as the fire extended from my hand to my entire body, if I would succumb to heat stroke. I couldn’t seem to form an intelligent thought. Every time I started to wonder why Kelson was so interested in me, my thoughts would switch to the pomegranate bush we’d just passed or the size of the cracks in the sidewalk. By the time we reached my house, I could barely see my door, much less think that I should walk through it.

  “Can I come in?” Kelson asked.

  I started to say yes, but stopped. “No.” I flushed in embarrassment as he jerked back, looking surprised. “The house is still a mess, and I have to do a lot of homework, so I don’t think it would be a good idea. I’m really behind.” I shut my mouth, realizing I was starting to ramble.

  He studied me but smiled after a moment. “No problem. You wanna walk to school with me tomorrow?”

  “Sure. See you tomorrow.” I slid into my house, shutting the door and then leaning against it, taking deep breaths. The strange mishmash of emotions and thoughts started to clear immediately. It was strange how confused I became around Kelson. It wasn’t like me at all, and though I felt practically euphoric near him, a twinge of fear laced through me now that he was gone. It was like I lost control whenever he was near.