ACoN Chapter Two

Chapter Two: The Power of a Gaze

I don’t know how long I sat staring at him, but it felt like half of forever.  My blood was rushing in my eyes, my jaw had loosened (although not fallen open, thankfully), and my body started to shake.  Tremble would be a better word.  He was here.  He was real.  Or I was more insane than I could have previously imagined.  Or there was a kid who actually looked like him but wasn’t him.  I wasn’t really holding out for that last one, to be honest.

            I must have looked sick because Angie nudged me and gave me a worried glance.  I spun around in my desk, knocking my pencil to the ground.  A few kids chuckled, not having understood what happened.  The teacher hadn’t noticed, or if he had, he hadn’t said anything.

            “Do you need to go to the bathroom?” Angie whispered.  I shook my head.  No.  I could do this.  I could stick this out and let the day move forward.  He probably didn’t recognize me.

            Well he does now, a snide voice in my head said.  You just stared at him for long enough to figure it out.

            The back of my neck felt warm.  Partly from embarrassment, now creeping up my face in one long, red blush, and partly from the fact that I could feel him watching me still.  I shrank down in my seat.

            “Mr. Glace,” Mr. Rabble interrupted himself, scaring me out of my wits.  “I think you’re making the young lady uncomfortable.  Care to move seats, or perhaps keep your eyes to yourself?”

            Michael got up and moved to an empty front row seat where I could stare at him but promised myself I wouldn’t.  Mr. Rabble went back to teaching, but then and there he had become my favorite.  He had actually noticed what was happening behind his back and actually, or so it seemed, cared.  I strove to pay attention for the rest of the lesson, actually taking notes, but it wasn’t easy when the hands of the clock moved as slow as they did and the boy from my dreams sat two rows in front of me.

“That was an experience.  At least you’re feeling better,” Angie said as soon as we left the classroom.  She was waiting for an explanation, although it wasn’t likely I would give one without being prodded a little further.  “I mean, you acted as if you’d seen a ghost.”

            I shivered.  That was the best comparison there was for what Michael was to me.  A ghost.  A specter.  A spirit, long dead and buried.

            “Fine, don’t tell me.  Just don’t do it again, okay?” her voice was colored with worry.  “You looked ready to faint.  Again.  Once was enough for me.”

            I remembered the day she was talking about.  Once was enough for me, too.

We didn’t have to split up until after lunch and then only for our last two classes.  But I had to admit, I didn’t really want to part from her.  It was like having a safety blanket, but two hours surrounded by perfect strangers wasn’t what I had planned for a good time.  Besides Michael- I was still trying to wrap my brain around his existence and what that meant- in our first class I hadn’t seen him all day.  Not even in the hallway, for which I wasn’t sure if I was grateful or upset.

            Upset.  I wasn’t sure if that was because I wanted to get to the bottom of his actually being here, in reality, and in this school (because that’s a hell of a coincidence), or if it was because of some other reason.  An angsty, butterfly in the stomach, thinking-about-you-all-the-time, reason.

            Angie went to gym, groaning the whole way and rolling her eyes when she was swept away with the crowd, and I went to math.  I had this gut feeling fate would align and put Michael in the same class as me.  I sat down in the back so that he couldn’t stare at me the whole time, but it was unnecessary because he wasn’t even in the class.

            I was counting my blessings all the way to journalism and it all fell away.  In journalism- where we made the newspaper published tri-weekly- everyone sat at four person tables where two computers were shared among everyone there.  I sat down at the only one with an empty seat, next to a kid who I’d seen in my other classes and knew was quiet.  He was a sort of outcast (like maybe a booger eater, but not) and had dark hair that covered his eyes and a pristine dress shirt and slacks.  It was strange but not the strangest thing I’d seen in my whole high school career.

            And then, seconds before the bell was going to ring he sat down across from me and looked me in the eye.  Time froze again as I saw Michael- a flesh and blood Michael.  I don’t know what sort of expression came across my face, but his was neutral and flat.  His eyes burned with a fire, though, excited and scared and unbelieving.  Sort of how I was feeling.

            “You’re here,” he breathed, almost too quiet to hear, and then the teacher started talking.

            I managed to pull my gaze away and ignore him while the teacher preached, and he wasn’t staring at me like he had earlier, but did shoot me looks every few moments.  I was tempted to do the same, but I didn’t want the chance that our eyes would collide.

            Then the teacher, a Mrs. Penbrook, was informing us that these would be our permanent seats for the rest of the year.  Yes, there was a lot of getting up and moving around to work with others on certain projects, but those around us would be our partners and we’d have to begin to rely on them for a chunk of our grade.  Besides Michael, another girl had sat at my table and she was skinny as a mouse and just as shy.  She didn’t talk much, either.

            With more than half a period left Mrs. Penbrook gave us free time to get to know those sitting with us.  Of course she did.  Of course she did.

            All around us people at other tables started chatting about who-knows-what.  They took this class as a blow-off I was sure.  I was seeing how that might be with all this “free time” and whatnot.  The quiet girl, whose name was Drew, said something about liking animals and the boy, Brian, just grunted and turned a computer on.  Realizing Michael and I weren’t going to say anything beyond staring at each other (perhaps, now, a little warily for the both of us) Drew powered the other one up as well and they both promptly ignored us.

            “You’re real,” I said without meaning to.  “Real,” I treasured the word, held it close to my chest like a precious gem or a dragon egg. 

            In his eyes I saw the immediate reaction my words had.  The power they transferred out of me and to him.  His eyes said Oh, no.  You’ve stopped believing.  You grew up.  He didn’t know the half of it.  When he finally spoke he said, “You’re here.”

            “I looked for you everywhere,” he said.  “At night, I looked for you.  I was afraid something had happened.  When I realized you weren’t coming back…” he looked crushed.  Heartbroken.  I knew what that was like.  “But you’re here now.”

            “Michael,” I didn’t know how to finish the sentence.  “Michael.”

            He was looking at me like a kid on Christmas.  Equal parts excited and hopeful that their father might come walking in the door at any moment even though he’s across the sea fighting someone else’s war.

            “I can’t.”

            He didn’t understand what I was saying.  Not at first.

            “I just can’t,” I choked the words out.  “I’m sorry,” tears were building up behind my eyes.  “I can’t.”

            And then he got it.  He understood what I was saying.  He stood up quickly and harshly.  He was shaking- with anger, I realized.  He had been looking for me for years.  I hadn’t even tried to reach him and tell him what happened.  I should.  Right here and now I should.  I would have, too, if at that moment he didn’t choose to speak.

            “I cannot believe you,” the words hit me like a knife.  They cut deep into me.  A tear leaked out.  He shouldn’t have been able to affect me like this but the words got to me and I began to tremble.  The words in his eyes said meaner things than he would say out loud and I wanted to scream at him that he didn’t understand.

            While I was sitting a mess of feelings he left the classroom.  I stayed that way until the bell rang and then I left a hollow shell of the person I had been that morning- which said a lot.