Continuum (7 page)

The rest of the day passes in a haze with a growing list of teachers that are annoyed by my inattention.  After art, I hastily stash my barely touched drawings in my portfolio.  Taking evasive action in the cafeteria, I do something I have not done for a long, long time.  I sit down at a lunch table that is already occupied by people.  Popular people.

I sit down next to Sam Jordan at his very crowded lunch table in the center of the cafeteria.  He is unquestionably the most popular boy at Everest High School.  Sam is the football team's starting quarterback and team captain, the basketball team's star shooting guard, and third baseman for the baseball team.  And he is also my ex-boyfriend.

Sam and I dated for almost two years starting in seventh grade.  He is a god when it comes to anything athletic but he is an emotional dunce when it comes to relationships.  We were perfectly matched in that respect.  Even after our awkward break up, Sam has been far kinder than I probably deserve.

Every person at the table stops talking to turn and stare at me.  He is either oblivious to my lowly status on the high school food chain or doesn’t care.  Sam, bless him, doesn't seem at all perplexed by my presence and acts like I come eat lunch with him every day.  “Hey, Fallon.  What’s up?”  He pops a french fry into his mouth and continues to eat.

I squirm uncomfortably under the blatant stares of his shellshocked lunch table, “Erm, I thought I would join you for lunch.”  Judging by his friends’ expressions, I figured it was safer not to ask for permission.

“I didn’t know you had lunch this period,” he mumbles through a mouth full of cheeseburger.

“Yeah, I’m usually... doing other stuff.  I’m sorry to ask but I need a favor,” I cringe, expecting him to say no.  

He polishes off his cheeseburger and picks up a container of strawberry yogurt.  “Sure thing.  What is it?” he asks.

“Mr. Murphy paired me with Emma Cole for the Shakespeare presentations.  You know how she feels about me.”  

Sam shrugs, “I don’t know what she has to complain about.  You’re a freaking genius at this stuff.  She’s just being like that cause of Mackenzie.”

“Exactly.  If we have to work together, it will be disastrous.  And I really can't afford to fail this project if I ever want to graduate and leave this place.  Do you think you could be my partner instead?”

He wrinkles his brow pausing as he dips a handful of fries into a pool of ketchup, “Are you sure you want me as your partner?  You remember how lousy I am at public speaking.  And English isn't my strongest subject especially that Shakespearean English...”

“It's totally fine, I'll help you.  It'll be just like old times,” giving him what I hope is a winning smile but feels awfully like a grimace.

Sam nods and returns my smile, “Uh, okay if you're sure.  You were always really good at this school stuff.”

“Thanks, Sam.  I’ll talk to Mr. Murphy tomorrow.”  Sam could be so easy to like.  The table is still eerily quiet from my presence and I deploy some diversion tactics to get all the attention off me, “Now I heard you guys really creamed Everest Central last weekend...”  

And to my relief, Sam and his friends start a reenactment of the game, giving me the play-by-play complete with wild hand gestures and boisterous laughter.  

I let my gaze wander around the cafeteria until I spot who I’m looking for.  Ethan's standing in the lunch line with Sophia and Chloe.  They're both laughing at something he just said.  Sophia hooks her arm around his and practically drags him to their usual lunch table where Emma and Mackenzie are already sitting.

Ethan

The lunchroom is buzzing louder than usual today.  Or maybe the sound is amplified due to the acute migraine threatening to short out my brain.  As I look across the table, I look past Sophia’s shoulder and see Fallon sitting two tables away.  My heart sinks when I see who she’s with.  She looks so fragile, squeezed in next to Sam at his extremely crowded lunch table.

She is distracted so I can stare freely.  Fallon really is beautiful.  Her long dark hair curls softly around the elegant column of her neck.  Her emerald t-shirt emphasizes the pale green of her irises.  Her legs are long and slim, crossed at the ankles with her left foot jiggling.  She is absently twisting her fingers in her lap-- a nervous gesture.

The football team is loudly recounting tales of their glorious victory over Everest Central last weekend.     Sam had played spectacularly that night, throwing three touchdown passes.  His friends are less modest about his playing and he smiles embarrassedly at Fallon who responds with her own unsure smile.  Even her smile is sad--not quite reaching her eyes.  She says something to him and he nudges her playfully in the way only Sam could get away with.  Fallon doesn’t seem to mind his familiarity and proximity.  I can’t watch any more.

I rub my hand over my chest, trying to alleviate the sudden ache I feel.  In the lunch line, Emma had told me of Fallon’s plan to switch partners for the English midterm.  It hadn’t surprised me given their obvious dislike for each other.  But Fallon had chosen Sam to be her new partner.  Of course.  I like Sam but he is one of my lab partners in Bio, so I know the reason she asked him wasn’t because he was so smart and hardworking.  

A dark cloud rolls over me as I observe his easy smile and golden boy good looks.  I grind my teeth as I watch him casually drape his arm on the back of her chair as their table continues chatting.  Fallon is leaning forward in her chair, picking at the sandwich on her lunch tray and doesn’t seem to notice this little gesture.

I can’t say I’m too surprised about this development.  No one seemed to know much about Fallon.  Sam seemed to be the only person willing to even talk about Fallon but he wasn’t giving me any intel.  Anytime I brought her up, he always seemed very vague and protective of her.  As I stare at his arm draped across the back of her chair, now I understand why Sam had been so guarded with providing information on Fallon.  

Sam is my friend.  Sam is my friend.  Sam is my friend.
 I keep chanting this in my head, but the urge to shove his face into his plate of french fries doesn’t pass.  

Fallon doesn’t even like you
.  The thought stings and it brings me crashing back down to Earth.  I look down at my tray of uneaten food, suddenly losing my appetite.  It takes great effort to pull myself away from the conversation at Sam’s table and rejoin my own.  

Mackenzie is smiling at me, resting her hand on my knee.  She is decked out in a tight red sweater dress and high heeled boots.  Even though it is about forty degrees outside, she is still showing an eyeful of bare, tanned legs.  She is twirling her carefully curled blonde hair between her other hand, complaining about the newly released dress code for Homecoming.  

All week they had been talking about nothing but Homecoming.  Mackenzie has been hinting heavily that she wanted me to ask her.  An eruption of laughter two tables away makes me think maybe I should.  Mackenzie could be a nice girl.  When she wanted to be. 

“I’m going to have to get a new dress.  My mom is going to be so pissed.  I mean, it’s not like I can return it.  I already had my dress shortened and taken in.  These new rules are so stupid,” Mackenzie actually pouts.

Emma reaches across the table pats Mackenzie’s arm reassuring, “It’s so we don’t have to see ugly, fat girls dancing in skanky dresses.”

“But what about us hot girls that want to look like hot skanks?” Chloe chimes in, placing one hand behind her head and one on her hip like she was posing for a camera.

They all dissolve into fits of giggles and start making plans for a mall crawl this weekend.  Allowing my eyes to wander again to Fallon’s table.  Sam catches me looking over at his table and he gives me a weird look before a grin spreads across his face. 
Busted
.  He starts gesturing for me to come over and I want to ignore him, but his long arms are hard to miss and the rest of his table stops talking and turns to look in my direction.

As my chair scrapes back, my whole table looks up in surprise.  Mackenzie asks, “Where are you going?  You’re not done eating your lunch.”

“I just have to talk to Sam a sec.  I’ll be right back.”  I can hear them murmuring behind me as I walk over to the other table.

Sam is pulling an extra chair up to his already crowded lunch table.  He sits down next to the empty chair so I’ll have to sit next to Fallon.  She is shooting Sam a pointed look but he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care.

His voice is booming and cheerful as usual, “Hey Ethan!  Join us for a minute.  Give the gals some time to discuss their plans to take over the world.”  I pull out the empty chair and sit down.  I wave to the table and Fallon’s face is flushed as she studies her folded hands.  Sam continues, “Ethan, have you met Fallon?  Fallon Pierce, Ethan Hayes.”

Fallon peers up from a fringe of dark lashes and gives me a brief, shy smile before continuing her examination of her hands, her fingers twisting together.  Her voice is quiet, “We’ve met.  Ethan and I have a few classes together.”

“Fallon and I are going to be partnering for the Shakespeare project.  Gotta keep my GPA up so she’s saving my butt.”

I can’t help but grin at Sam’s candor, “And here I thought I was your hero with Bio.”

He groans, “Don’t remind me.  I guess my GPA needs a lot of saving.”

Fallon frowns, “You’re smart, Sam.  You just lack focus when it comes to academics.”

He grins at her, “If only I could be a super genius like you.”  

“I just read a lot,” she mutters.

“Seriously, Ethan, this girl is crazy smart.  Wait, wait!  She can show you.  You gotta see this!”  He grabs his book bag off the floor and starts rummaging through the front pocket before pulling out his keys.  There are only two keys, one for his house and one for his car, attached to a miniature Rubiks cube keychain.  

Sam hands Fallon the keys and she strokes the cube with her forefinger, that shy smile returning to her face.  She looks at him, something hidden in her expression.  Surprise?  Pleasure?  “I can’t believe you still have this.”

“Hell yeah.  No one’s ever won anything for me before.  Do you remember when you won it?  At the carnival in Lakeside the summer before eighth grade?  Wasn’t it that balloon game you liked to play?”

Fallon nods, turning the cube over in her hands.  “I was pretty lethal with a dart back in the day.”

Sam turns to me, “Do you have a watch?  Or a timer on your phone?  She can do it in under a minute.  It is the most amazing thing I have ever witnessed.”  

I pull out my phone and Sam takes the cube from Fallon and gives it a few more random twists as I pull  up the clock app.  He hands it back to her and glances back at me, “Ready?  On the count of three.  1...2...3...GO!”

Fallon begins twisting the cube in quick, decisive movements, her slender fingers turning the cube into a blur of color.  The colors start matching up until only the corners are off and then a few more twists before she stops moving her hands, holding up the cube triumphantly, each side matching.  37 seconds.  She looks up at me and her smile is absolutely radiant. 

Sam snatches the cube and turns it round and round making sure she really did solve it.  “That literally never gets old.  How long was that?”

I flash my screen around, “37 seconds.”

His voice is full of awe, “How do you do that?”  

She shrugs and resumes her finger twisting, “I read a book about it.”  

“How freaking cool is that?” Sam drapes his arm around her shoulder and gives her a squeeze, making her flush.  I get that sinking feeling again and suddenly the table seems way too crowded.

I push back my chair hastily, the metal legs scraping loudly against the linoleum floor.  “I should get back to my table,” I mutter.  “See ya, Sam.  Bye, everybody.”  

“Catch you later, Ethan,” Sam says casually, his arm still possessively around Fallon’s shoulders as I make my way back to my lunch table.  Fallon looks up at me, a mixture of confusion and guilt in her eyes.

Fallon

When Ethan walks into Psychology, our eyes meet briefly and his expression is tense, his lips pressed in a hard line.  His eyes flicker away and he makes a point of sitting in the front of the classroom.  He joins in easily as everyone chats excitedly about the upcoming Homecoming festivities.  I want to run up to him and apologize for my childish behavior and tell him Sam is only a friend.  

I don’t know if Sam was playing along or playing stupid, but his usual touchy-feely friendliness had driven Ethan away from the lunch table.  As soon as Ethan left, Sam dropped his arm and resumed eating like nothing happened.  Even though Sam has some understanding about my stance on relationships, I can’t bring myself to broach the subject with him.  How do I explain to my ex-boyfriend that I like a boy but I can’t ever be with him?  Ethan doesn’t even look my way once during the longest fifty minutes of the day.  Which is how it should be.  As I gather my books, I watch Ethan disappear out of the classroom door.  

My plan worked better than I could have hoped.  So why do I feel so awful?

After last week’s disastrous ending, I am in full avoidance mode.  Operation Elude Ethan is set into motion.  His proximity just makes me feel confused.  Hiding in a small school is difficult but Mackenzie helps by making sure she is wrapped around Ethan every free minute.  

I stumble on Day Three.  All the days seem to blur together for me these days.  I come into first period with seconds to spare and Mrs. Douglas is standing in front of the room for a change.  The class has been split up into two groups. 
Oh, crap it’s the day before a major exam.  

Mrs. Douglas’ European History syllabus hasn’t changed since the Twentieth Century--four major exams, a midterm, and a final.  Before each test, she has a “History Off” with the winning group getting a five percent bump to their final test grade.  It was also the only day anyone paid any attention so they could learn everything they needed before the exam.   The school year was really flying by.