His Eyes (7 page)

Tristan squeezed my arm and leaned close to my ear. “Amy, it’s all right.”

He had said my
name
. My mind went blank.

Laughter rumbled through in the gym and the applause in the family section grew louder, spilling over into the student section. Some of the Clarencites gave me evil looks, crossed their arms, and refused to applaud; I bet they knew about his mother’s bribery and weren’t too happy he’d gotten to miss a semester and still graduate. I imaged that they were trying to use their minds to make me explode—but nothing happened. Apparently the Clarencites weren’t good at everything, after all.

* * *

The moment the ceremony ended, the gym echoed with chatter. Students were dragged this way and that to pose for pictures with Aunt So-and-so and Grandpa. I saw Mrs. Edmund, with Chris and Marly in tow, burst from the crowd. Mrs. Edmund was sniffling and she threw her arms around Tristan, while saying over his shoulder, “What you did was wonderful, Amy!”

I blushed when Mrs. Edmund let go of Tristan and quickly embraced me.

Chris grumbled, “We should’ve beat up whoever didn’t clap.”

“Christopher John, we do not talk about beating people up,” she chided gently.

I awkwardly returned Mrs. Edmund’s hug. I felt strange being complimented at
Tristan’s
graduation. Once she released me, I gestured at Tristan with my head. She frowned at me, as if wondering if I was developing some kind of twitch. Then, finally, I saw the light bulb go on and she said, “Tristan, your father would have been so proud of you!”

Tristan shifted his weight and replied sarcastically, “Yeah, I’m just this really brave guy who can’t walk on his own or tell what he’s about to drink.”

So I guess he hadn’t quite forgotten about that rehearsal thing. I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear and sighed. Mrs. Edmund and Chris were standing in awkward silence. Suddenly Marly, who was obviously not too clear on what was happening, cried, “I love you, Tristan,” and threw her arms around his legs. I looked up in time to catch Tristan’s surprised smile. He patted her head and said, “Thanks, Marly.”

“Well, we should probably get going,” piped Mrs. Edmund. “The party’s not going to host itself and these two have to get to bed.”

“Aww,
Mom
,” Chris groaned.

“Are you going to the dance?” she asked.

Tristan didn’t exactly sound like he was in a partying mood. I began, “Well—”

“Yes, we’re going,” he interjected.

What
?! “What?” His arm subtly squished my hand against his side. I choked, “Oh, yeah.”

Mrs. Edmund smiled, saying, “All right. Amy, can you give Tristan a ride home?”

I nodded and the family headed toward the exit. Chris hung back and, once his mother was out of earshot, said, “You’re just gonna kiss, huh?”

“We are not! Get out of here!” Tristan swatted at the air and narrowly missed Chris’s nose. The little boy grinned wickedly and scampered off into the crowd.

I looked up at him in disbelief. “You
want
to go to a dance?”

“’cause my mother’s party sounds like so much fun,” he scoffed.

Right, that probably wouldn’t have been such a good thing. I turned and, with my hand firmly clasped around his arm, wove through the remaining clusters of families. Some of the parents looked up and nodded approvingly at me while I passed. I tried to smile back at them while my cheeks grew hotter. Spotting a group of students leaving the gymnasium, I began to trail them at a distance.

I followed them down two locker-lined hallways and into a cafeteria. In truth, I could hardly tell that it was a cafeteria. Large bouquets of balloons in the school’s colors, navy and maroon, crowned the entrance. The cherry-wood floors glittered under streams of tiny white lights that hung from the ceiling. The room was dim, with just a hint of fog to set the scene. To my left were cloth-draped tables and to my right was the dance floor, where most of the senior girls and some of the boys crowded together while Fallout Boy blared.

I thought I heard a noise, so I turned to Tristan and shouted over the sound, “What?”

“
Can we go sit down
?” he screamed back.

“Sure!”

I led him over to one of the tables. Tristan sat down stiffly next to me. He spoke quietly, as if to himself, and I had to strain to hear. “This must be the cafeteria....”

I winced, hardly able to imagine what it would be like to not know where I was. My voice betraying my thoughts, I said shakily, “Yeah, that’s right.”

Tristan’s head jerked sharply. “I knew that, I was just saying....” He sighed and stood. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

A tall, redheaded boy with a smiling brunette on his arm appeared behind Tristan. He clapped Tristan on the back. “Hey, buddy, congrats! Sorry we haven’t hung out in a while.”

A fake smile spread thickly over Tristan’s face. “Thanks, Nick.”

The girl shook her head. “Trist, it’s really too bad.”

Nick elbowed her, while hissing, “
Melissa
.”

“I
meant
about not hanging out with him!” she hissed back.

With a quick shake of his head, Tristan took a step forward. “Actually, I was just heading to the restroom—”

“Sure, man, it’s right over there.” Nick pointed uselessly and gave Tristan a push in the general direction of the bathroom, which was in the corner of the cafeteria. He yelled at his back, “Maybe I’ll give ya a call when I have another party! Maybe at the lake!” He looked down at me. “You goin’ to the lake?”

I frowned. “What lake?”

“Wind Song. It’s up in Wisconsin,” he explained. “If you’re with Trist, I’m sure you’ll come up to the Edmunds’ cabin.”

“
Nick,
she’s his
assistant
.”

“Oh.” He shrugged. “Well, whatever. See ya.”

“Bye.” I rolled my eyes as the couple headed back toward the dance floor.

Looking around the room, I realized, to put it bluntly, that Clarence was short on attractive guys. No wonder so many girls had wanted to date Tristan. First of all, there were only about twenty-five guys in the entire class and, second of all—well, there really wasn’t a second of all, but they were probably rich, if that helped. In fact, one of the few handsome guys was walking toward me. I laughed to myself. He probably wasn’t walking toward
me
; he was probably walking toward the imported Italian soda at the table behind me.

“Hello. Amy Turner, correct?”

Or not.

I choked, “Hi,” and numbly shook his hand.

He was tall, with thick black hair and endless brown eyes. All of his features were dark and very Mediterranean, very nice. Not that I noticed. He smiled an immaculately white smile, saying, “Joseph Eccles. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

Joseph Eccles, Joseph Eccles—why did that name sound familiar? Oh, yeah. “Congrats on being Valedictorian. Great speech, by the way.”

Joseph bowed his head and said formally, “Thank you. And I enjoyed your...demonstration. Tristan deserved to graduate, no matter the circumstance.”

So, I was right; the Clarencites
had
refused to clap because of the bribery. I nodded.

Suddenly, he offered his hand and asked, “Would you care to dance?”

I glanced uncertainly toward the bathroom door. Oh well, one dance. I smiled and took his hand. “Yeah, sure.”

He led me onto the floor just as the music switched to a slow song—not just any slow song, a sappy slow song. Honestly. Songs with clichéd hooks and tenors trying to be impressive with their vibratos make me sick. Holding my right hand, Joseph smiled and stepped toward me. I placed my other hand on his shoulder as we began to slowly turn in a circle. I startled when he spoke in my ear, “You may rest your head, if you like.”

Yes, I was quite aware of the option, but I was currently watching the men’s bathroom door, watching for Tristan. I had to continually shift my head while we moved to keep it in my sight.

The moment Tristan emerged from the bathroom, Kristy approached him. He shook his head when she spoke to him and allowed her to lead him back to the table. I imagined that he asked where I was because she pointed toward the dance floor while she talked. Joseph and I again spun away and I had to practically twist my head completely around to see. From Tristan’s body language, I knew that he knew where I was. And, unexpectedly, the realization was like a knife wound to my gut.

This wasn’t right; I couldn’t just abandon him.

I pulled away from the Valedictorian, apologizing over my shoulder, “I’m sorry. I have to go,” as I rushed toward the table. When I reached Tristan, Kristy bristled in her seat next to him. I said breathlessly, “Hi.”

He turned his head to the side questioningly. “The song isn’t over.”

“I know.”

A smile flashed across Tristan’s face and Kristy glared. She said, “You weren’t much help to him on the dance floor, were you?”

I pushed a strand of hair behind my ear and said, “You’re right, I should have—”

“Danced with me,” Tristan finished, surprising both me and Kristy, by the look on her face. He rose to his feet and my stomach squirmed. “Amy?”

Kristy jumped to her feet, pulling at the short hem of her dress, and fumbled for words. “Are...are you sure you can dance?”

Tristan kept his head focused toward me and said dismissively, “I had three years of formal training while I was in elementary school. I haven’t had to look at my feet since I was six. I think I can handle it.”

I took his arm and we moved onto the dance floor, away from a gaping Kristy. Oh yes, many heads turned in our direction. I clasped my hands around his neck and his hands found the small of my back. The music had switched to a different slow song—one by Josh Groban that always made Ahna tear up, though she would never admit it. True to his word, Tristan wasn’t close to stepping on my feet. In fact, I became aware that we were dancing almost a foot apart. This wasn’t
junior high
!

I just knew that Tristan was still thinking about how I betrayed him the rehearsal. I carefully leaned my mouth toward his ear and whispered, “I’m sorry, about yesterday.”

Ever so subtly, I felt him relax. He replied, “You didn’t have to do that out there.”

“Yes, I did.”

Tristan’s hand pressed against my back and I felt myself move closer until my head was resting against his warm chest. I closed my eyes and felt its steady rising and falling. I breathed in deeply and wrapped my arms more securely around his neck. The world was suddenly simply cinnamon and sandalwood. I couldn’t remember ever feeling quite so content.

All too soon, the song ended. I nearly moaned as Tristan stepped back and caught my arm. “Maybe we should head out.”

Maybe people shouldn’t move when other people are feeling so...

Oh, whatever.

Chapter 7

The drive through the night was peaceful, but when I turned off my car’s engine, awkward silence returned with a vengeance. I sat, feeling strangely nervous, wondering why he wasn’t getting out and wondering if I was supposed to say something and wondering all those things you wonder at the end of a date—not that this was a date! Suddenly, Tristan broke the silence. “I want you to come inside, but I have to warn you about my mother. At these kinds of things, she tends to get pretty...tipsy.”

Honestly, how drunk could she be? She’d only left, maybe, an hour before. I shrugged. “Hey, my mom’s been on a picnic for most of my life.”

He frowned as if he didn’t think I’d understood him and then opened the car door. “Okay.”

I slid out of my car and then paused. Wait—
why
was he inviting me in? This was part of the job, right? I couldn’t, we couldn’t...date. Ignoring my brain, I walked with him up to the door. He asked, “You ready?” and pressed the doorbell. From inside, I could hear the sound of talking and piped classical music. There was a crash, followed by laughter, and then the door was thrust open.

Mrs. Edmund stood in the doorway, her hair slightly mussed and her eyes glistening. In the foyer behind her, I could see a waiter on his knees, wiping up the shards of a broken glass. A young server pressed a flute of champagne into the hostess’ hand, while she smiled largely at us. She oozed, “Oh,
how
lovely you both look,” and I tried to return her smile. She turned her head, presumably toward the retreating server, and continued to slur, “
That’s
my son and his babysitter.”

Okay, she had definitely been knocking them back.

Several of the administrators, whom I recognized from the graduation, were standing in clusters around the den and they turned to look in our direction. Feeling embarrassed for Tristan, I tried to move toward the stairs. “Everything looks wonderful, Mrs. Edmund.”

“Thanks, dear. It’s all the cater—
whoops
!” The flute fell from her fingers and smashed onto the tile. She frowned. “Oh, those things are so
slippery
.” She held up a hand and tried to whisper to me, “I get so nervous hosting.”

“Don’t worry,” I said while we began up the stairs. “Maybe just try a little coffee?”

When we reached the second floor, Tristan sighed. “Wasn’t that fun?”

I squeezed his arm. “Hey, it’s okay. When I was four, my mom decided we should try to set all the animals in the zoo free. I was the youngest kid ever to spend time in the Grayfield jail. Boy, was Dad pissed.”

Tristan laughed. “Sounds like you have quite a family.”

We entered his bedroom and I swung his door shut to keep out the noise. I plopped onto the edge of the bed next to him and smoothed my dress. Tristan pulled off his tie and shook his head. “What a night.”

My cheeks grew warm when I remembered the dance. “Yeah.”

I was so busy remembering, I almost missed his next words. “I want to see you.”

“What?” I gasped, my heart rate skyrocketing.

“I want to know you—what you look like,” he said quietly and held out his hand.

I breathed, “Oh,” and guided his hand to my face. His fingertips rested gently against the skin of my forehead and slowly brushed the line of my hair. I couldn’t suppress the shiver that ran down my spine. I closed my eyes and felt his fingers feeling their way downwards, tracing the arches of my eyebrows. Softly, they moved over my nose to the bones of my cheeks. I could hardly breathe, but a question nagged at the back of my mind. I whispered, “Why did you date all of those girls?”