Secret Lucidity(37)

David: Hey, you. I’ve been worried. How is everything at your house?

Me: Better now that my mom left.

David: And when she was there?

Me: I’d rather not talk about it.

I kick off my shoes and roll onto my back while I wait for him to text me. My screen dims out, and a few seconds later, comes back to life.

David: I can smell you on my sheets.

And that’s all it takes to spark a chemical reaction inside me. He’s an undeniable force I’m not ready to say good night to, so I don’t. Instead of texting him back, I call.

“What are you doing?” he asks when he answers.

“Lying in bed. You?”

“The same.” He releases a deep sigh, and I slip down under my blanket before he adds, “I miss you.”

In the darkness, I smile again. “I miss you too.”

And this is where my life forks.





I WAKE UP THIS MORNING with an avidity I’ve been a stranger to. I had become so used to getting out of bed and having to convince myself not to skip class. Today is different though. When I walk through the doors of Edmond Ridge High, I’m anxious just to be in the same building as him.

There’s something thrilling about this secret I now hold.

I purposely go out of my way to pass his classroom after first period. I walk by his door and catch a glimpse of him sitting at his desk. He wears his usual casual attire that most of the other coaches wear as well: athletic pants and an Edmond Ridge sport polo. I barely get a five-second fill before Kroy comes up behind me.

“You lost?”

“What?”

“Why are you on this side of the building? Isn’t your first hour with Mrs. Beasly?”

“Oh, I just . . . I had to drop off an assignment that I left at home last week,” I tell him.

We walk together to our next class, and suddenly the thrill dulls. I feel like a total fraud from the lies that are stacking up between us.

“So how was your weekend?”

“Good. I didn’t do very much. What about you?”

“Hung out with Kyle and—” He catches himself before saying her name, but if he was with Kyle, then I know he was with Linze too.

“You can say her name,” I tell him. “I know Kyle is one of your friends. It’s not like I expect you not to hang out with him because of what’s going on between me and Linz.”

“I don’t agree with her, just so you know.”

“I know,” I respond as we walk into class and take our seats.

The hour fades into the next while I focus on the lecture and take notes as another fifty minutes pass until I’m walking to English Lit. I don’t even realize my nerves until David looks at me when I step into his room. The air in my lungs ripples with uncertainty of how I should act, and I’m wracked with an unsettling fear that everyone can see right through us. So, I duck my head when he greets, “Miss Hale,” with nonchalance as I walk by.

Suddenly paranoid, I settle in my desk and pull out my notebooks. When I get the nerve to look his way, he’s already talking to another student. I shouldn’t stare, but I do, and the moment I feel the tingles creeping along my skin, I have to look away.

Oh my God, this is beyond awkward.

The bell rings, and Linze bounces through the door, announcing loudly in a singsong voice, “Sorry I’m late, Mr. Andrews.”

She doesn’t even look my way before taking her new seat in the front of the classroom. It’s an odd feeling to be a stranger to my best friend, but one thing life has taught me, is that it’s unpredictable and ever-changing.

He has us pull out our textbooks, and we follow along as he reads and discusses Shakespeare. I’m only able to digest about half of what he says, because I’m too deep in my thoughts, replaying our phone conversation that went into the early hours of this morning. There hasn’t been enough time between those words and these words he speaks now to draw the line between whatever I am to him outside of school and the student I am now. I’m stuck in the fog.

Every time our eyes catch, I fall further away from the girl I’m supposed to be and drift closer to the girl I was this weekend. He’s so confident in front of the class, and I wonder if he’s as affected by this as I am.

Before I know it, the bell rings, and I have no idea what was even discussed. The room fills with chatter and when he walks back to his desk, I shove my books into my bag, wondering if he’ll ask me to stay behind.

But I don’t have to wonder long when Mrs. Fritz, another English teacher, knocks on the already open door. “Mr. Andrews, do you have time to talk?”

She walks over to his desk, and I sling my backpack on to go about my normal routine of hiding away in the stacks of the library instead of going to lunch.

As I leave his room, I give a quick look over my shoulder and catch David staring at me before turning his attention to Mrs. Fritz.




Swim practice comes and goes, and I’m blow drying my hair when Taylor sidles up next to me. She leans forward, staring at herself in the mirror, and smears a hideous shade of red onto her lips.

I shut off the dryer and start pulling my hair into a knot on top of my head, and when she pops her mouth open after blending the lipstick, she zips her makeup bag, and talks into the mirror, saying, “It’s a shame Coach ended our morning swims.”