Waiting on the Sidelines (Waiting on the Sidelines #1)(12)

I walked over, lopped my backpack over the chair and pulled out my notebook and a pencil. Intently counting the second-hand clicks on the clock, I started to fill with concern that Reed wasn’t here. He was skipping school, either because of the dressing down I had given him or because he was off making out with a 17-year-old hoochie. Caught up in the drama in my head, I didn’t notice when he slipped in at the last second and slid into his seat next to me.

I could feel the blood rushing to my head. In fact, I could hear it passing over my eardrums in waves, making it almost impossible to hear our teacher. I refused to pull my gaze up from my notebook. I didn’t want to see if he was frowning. I didn’t want to see if he was furious or sad. I just wanted to shrink down to microscopic size and scamper off unnoticed. The only part of Reed I could see was his feet. They were bouncing up and down, propped on his toes. He was clearly just as affected sitting next to me, but I was pretty sure that he was just counting the seconds that he could be free from me. He smacked his notebook on his desktop and pulled a pen out ready to take notes for the class.

I wrote down various bits of our lesson. Cell structures and mitochondria. It seemed pretty simple so I wasn’t too alarmed at my own lack of attention. Reed, however, seemed to be writing down everything our teacher said, word for word. His pen was busy and he kept stopping and scribbling every few seconds. He slowed down some near the end of class and started drumming his pen on his leg to match the tempo of his bouncing. I expected that when we heard the bell he would be off with a sprint.

Finally, after 50 torturous minutes, the bell rang. I slid my notebook sideways on my desk into my backpack and zipped it up. I heard Reed ripping off a page from his notebook and standing up to leave. I thought I would just sit still for an extra minute or two to let him get a head start. I was starting to imagine the pattern of doing this for the next eight months of school and was wondering if I could handle the stress of it when I saw Reed slide a folded piece of paper over to me on top of a blue pocket folder.

Confused, I looked up at him, pursing my lips and crooking the corner of my mouth.

“Just take it and read it, OK?” he said shortly. And then he was walking away.

I flipped open the folder and saw my note cards tucked into one pocket with a rubber band around them. They had been highlighted and numbered. In the other pocket was a typed and stapled paper. The top sheet was titled “A Sustainable Society: By Nolan Lennox and Reed Johnson.” I pulled the paper from the folder and realized it was a full four pages, single spaced. I read the first few paragraphs and they were exactly as I would have written them, minus a few word choices.

Reed had finished our project. By himself. Last night.

I didn’t quite know what to make of this. I was equal parts offended that he hadn’t included me in our work and awed by his gesture. I was fairly confident that the note he had folded and placed on top of the folder he had given me would provide me with clarity. I started to unfold and read it where I sat, but the next class was already filing in. I was going to be late for PE. Also, as much as I wanted to know what he had written to me, I also was afraid. Was he angry? Is that why he had written so manically during our class? Wondering if I had just bided my time, waiting to yell at him and embarrass him in front of his friends. Did he finish the paper just to be rid of me? Or, maybe they were kind words? And at that thought, part of me wanted to savor it and read it just a few words at a time.

Walking slowly through the grass to the gym, I held the note close to my chest under the folder, my arms crossed over it. When I got to my gym locker, I tucked it inside my backpack and changed for PE. As I sat on the bench waiting for our class to begin, I stared at my locker, wanting to unlock the combination immediately, crawl into a bathroom stall and feign menstrual cramps. But I left it where it was.

We did aerobics for PE and practiced various stretches on the mats upstairs. I could hear the weight room on the other side of the gym and knew Reed was there. Most of the football players had weightlifting as their elective. I felt like I was holding onto a burning secret, but I only knew parts of it. My lack of awareness must have been apparent, too, because I was still laying flat on my back when the rest of the class was folding up mats and carrying them to the stack at the end of the room.

“Nolan, are you OK?” Sienna leaned over and asked. “Are you sick?”

“Huh? Oh, uh no. Sorry, just daydreaming I guess. Thanks for snapping me out of it!” I sat up and started folding my mat. My head still imagining the words that were waiting for me and listening for any hint of Reed’s voice just across the basketball court.

As I turned around after throwing my mat on top of a stack, I was stopped by Sienna, hands on her hips and a furrowed brow. “What’s up? I know you. I know you really well and have for years. You know you can tell me, right?” she said in her nurturing tone. Sienna was always the friend you could confide in and she often gave the best advice. While Sarah was one to back you up in a fight, Sienna was the one with her head on right. At her words, I let out a huge sigh and leaned back against the wall as we lined up to head back to the locker room.

“It’s Reed,” I said, not sure where else to go with it.

“Nolan, I know that much. I totally know that you like him… more than friends… and I think there’s a part of him that really likes you, too. Did something … happen?” she asked, almost with a look of hope in her eyes.