The Songs in Our Hearts: A Young Adult Romance(28)

“School is fine. You know...it’s school. Josh is still looking at colleges. I think he’s waiting on an offer for a football scholarship, so we’ll see what happens. As for my parents, they’re fine. Just working.”

“Oh great!” Mrs. Greenwich touched my hand and gestured to an open desk on the second floor. “If you need any help, you know where to find me!”

“Thanks!”

Micah had already turned to the set of steps that led up to the dusty historical section. All of the town records of Grand Lakes were housed in this secluded area of the library. If you wanted privacy, this was the place to go. There were two desks, one close to the staircase and the other toward the back, where Micah seemed to be headed. He slumped down into one of the chairs and flipped open his notebook. I sat across from him.

“So, we could just end our film with a reenactment of the last scene in the movie. You know, where Victor dies and all the sailors on the voyage with him set him up on a floating pyre, and then they shoot it with flaming arrows. One of the guys totally misses, and the monster decides to shoot the pyre himself. Almost like it’s his duty because Victor was his creator. And since he has no real place in the world without Victor, he sets himself on fire alongside his master.”

“Dramatic,” I said. “How are we going to stage you and the monster burning to death?”

“Uh...easy. With fire?”

“Setting yourself on fire, or...?”

Micah laughed. “It’s called a dummy. I wouldn’t actually go up in flames.”

“But then, the monster? You can’t expect one of your friends to crawl onto a fiery buoy with a burning dummy.”

“But it would be pretty epic. Think about the grade we’d get for that.”

“I’m thinking we’d get reprimanded for doing something so dangerous for an English project.”

“Live a little?” he offered his famous line.

We worked on more of the character dialogue for the second part of our screenplay, until Mrs. Greenwich called up to us that the library was closing. I rubbed my eyes as I closed my notebook. Micah tucked a pen behind his ear and got up, swinging his backpack over his shoulder. Together we started toward the staircase.

“So, now that we have the screenplay pretty much finished, I’ll have to ask my friends if they’re up for making a horror film.” As we descended the stairs, I waved to Mrs. Greenwich.

“That leaves the camera,” Micah continued as we walked out to the car. I knew my parents wouldn’t mind letting me borrow their camcorder. After all, it was for academic purposes.

“I can figure out the camera.” I got inside the Grand Am. Micah started the engine as I buckled up and took a sip of my cherry soda. It was a little warm.

“Great,” he said. “We can get started on filming. Get it over and done with.”

I wasn’t sure why I had such a sinking feeling in my gut just then. Was it because of the way he’d said ‘Get it over and done with’? Like it was a chore to him? Was it because we’d be finished with the project? Did I want to spend more time with him?

Micah’s fingers reached for the stereo system, switching on another song: “Don’t Stop Believin’” by Journey. I stared outside the passenger window, watching as the small town of Grand Lakes whizzed by in a stream of lights, trees and old historic homes, while I hummed to the melody.

“This is one of my all-time favorite songs,” Micah informed me.

“You and everyone in America.”

“Debatable. You can’t assume America enjoys Journey as much as we do.”

“The show ‘Glee’ used a lot of their songs,” I pointed out.

Micah groaned. “Please don’t tell me you're a Gleek.”

“And what if I am?”

“Good thing we just pulled into your neighborhood. I can get rid of you,” he teased. “Before you start going all Rachel Berry on me.”

“You know the main character’s name?” I smirked. Micah just ignored me though, putting the car into park.

“On a more serious note,” he murmured, “why were you avoiding me earlier today?”

“I wasn’t.” I was not prepared to have that conversation.

“Well, what would you call it, then? You sure weren’t running to me like I was pizza,” Micah joked.

“Shut up.”

I reached for the door handle just as the lock clicked closed. Micah’s touch on my hand caused me to freeze. His fingers squeezed mine gently, comfortingly. Turning my gaze to his hand on mine, my cheeks began to burn with embarrassment.

“Seriously, Charlie. What are you always running from?” His voice was soft and curious. My heart was pounding in my ears.

“I just don’t want to give Sam something to talk about.” It was close to the truth. I didn’t want Samantha or Micah to know how I truly felt. I didn’t even know where I wanted to go with these feelings.

“I guess we did just that,” Micah said, and released me. He looked out the windshield. “Sorry for causing so much trouble for you.”

“You didn’t…” I shook my head. “Really, you didn’t.”

“I tend to bring trouble with me,” Micah explained.