Chapter 4

That night, when the house got quiet

and the only sound was the wind

scraping leaves across the roof, I

sat at my desk with my laptop and

keyed in a Google search: snake and

dove. The first hit took me to a Bible

reference site. I navigated back, but

all the search results returned me to

a verse in the Gospel of Matthew:

Behold, I am sending you out as

sheep in the midst of wolves, so be

wise as serpents and innocent as

doves.

I copied the words into my

sketchbook and underlined "wise"

and "innocent." Maybe that was the

extent of the meaning behind Hart's

tattoos. Hart...I Wrote his name,

too, and drew a dove and a snake as

my mind wandered. Drawing always

helped me think; it seemed to occupy

the mechanical part ofmy brain and

free the rest of roaming.

When we had met in the woods,

Hart had asked if I was a Christian.

I remembered his accusatory tone

he had practically snapped at me

for referring to David in the past

tense. But David was gone, along

with my family's churchgoing days. I

hadn't thought about that for years.

Mom and Dad had simply stopped

attending and taking me to church

when I was eleven. At that age, I

didn't question their motives.

Now, it was easy to see that Mom

blamed God for what had happened

to David and Dad's faith was gone

with his son. As for me, I existed

somewhere in an agnostic space, not

knowing and not really caring about

religion.

I closed my eyes and my mind went

back and back. I had only happy

memories of church: Potlucks

in the basement, Sunday school

crafts, David dressed as Joseph and

laughing hysterically behind a fake

beard. Our church caroled every

year and one night we had bellowed

away in front of an old colonial

home and we could see the people

inside, in the warmth and light,

but they ignored us. I remembered

feeling sad and looking at David,

and he was radiant with joy, singing

at full volume. David truly believed

something, I had always known that,

whereas my paper boat faith went

under the bridge and never came out

on the other side.

The school week passed and I was

barely aware of it. Hart's coat hung

in my locker, slowly losing the

smell I loved. My hope spiked every

time I filed out of the building and

sank when Hart made no surprise

appearances. I sat through my

classes, chin in palm, watching the

clouds change shape. They were all

snakes and doves and roses and I

sketched him a dozen times, but I

couldn't get it right.

I had been so stupid, agreeing to

wait a week to see him. A week was

forever, a fourth of a month, a huge

chunk of time with heavy feet.

I ate lunch in my secluded hallway

and made after-dinner walks a

regular part of my day. The woods

were gorgeous and a little darker

each evening, the shadows longer,

the air colder, but Hart wasn't there.

In gym class, a few girls tried to

invite me to hang out. I told them I

had plans. I felt people watching me

in a different way and I overheard

snippets of gossip, but none ofit

interested me. If people wanted my

company now that I had been seen in

the parking lot with a hot guy and his

expensive car, they weren't worth

calling friends.

So, on Monday, when a voice

interrupted my daydream, I didn't

even lift my head. Art class had just

begun and I was looking forward to

painting and zoning out.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" said the

voice. It was a boy, definitely. Maybe

he would go away if I ignored him. I

swirled my brush in a blob of black

acrylic and added hair to Hart's

silhouette. Now that he had returned

to my life, I had more detail for my

best memory" piece: Just how tall

he stood, the lazy grace of his gait,

the lean shape of his body, his long

fingers, toned arms, wild black hair

A giggle disturbed my thoughts.

It came from Lesleyy Ciznek, the

ringleader of the little clique with

which I shared an art table.

"Yeah, you can sit there," she said.

Ours was the only table with an

empty chair-right next to me, of

course. It scraped out and someone

sat. "She doesn't bite. I don't think."

I heard more giggling, this time from

Lesley's crew.

"Maybe she should," said the boy.

Lesley and co. lacked the brainpower

to understand that he was making

a dig at them. They tittered

uncertainly and cleared their

throats.

"What happened to your hair?"

Lesley said.

Finally, curiosity compelled me to

glance at him. I did a quick double

take. His hair was honey blond

except for one thick shock growing

from the crown of his head, which

was silver-white. He had no clever

comeback now. He only smiled

tolerantly and shrugged.

"Its always been that way" .

"Doesn't that happen if you get

scared or something?" said one of the

girls.

Or, like, have a stroke?" said

another.

"You could dye it," Lesley said. "I

totally would."

"I think those are myths." The boy's

friendly smile persisted. Then he

looked at me andI froze. Did he

expect me to rescue him? "Tm Cal."

"Leda," I mumbled.

Maybe Lesley felt that she was losing

control of her table, or maybe it had

just dawned on her that Cal-silver

streak and all-was actually quite

attractive. "Hey" she butted in, "did

you knovw that, like in mythology, a

girl name leda gets-

"I know," Cal said without looking

away from me.

I didn't care, I told myself I didn't

care, but I could feel the color

creeping into my face. Life had

taught me that way too many people

knew the story of Leda and the swan.

It was my Dad's idea. He has a thing

about tragic figures."

"It could have been worse," said Cal.

You could have been Ophelia."

I smirked. "Or Cordelia."

"Goneril." He made a face and we

both laughed.

The conversation was now leagues

beyond Lesley's grasp. She fumed in

silence.

"Leda is nice, honestly. It's unique."

"Well, so is your"-I gestured to his

hair"stroke side effect."

Again, we laughed helplessly. It was

too easy, and it felt good, chatting

with someone who could match my

wit.

"Mrs. Callahan mentioned you. She

said you wouldn't mind showing me

around."

I put two and two together then: Cal

was Calvin, the new boy.

"Leda, isn't that where you eat

lunch?" Lesley said. "In the guidance

office? She had never been quite

this nasty. Cal's good looks combined

with the fact that he was ignoring

her must have been driving her

insane

"I can't say I blame her," he said.

And now he was defending me.

Great. Maybe Mrs. Callahan had put

him up to this.

"It seems like you're finding your

way around," I said.

"Yeah, but l'm a month behind in

oceanography. I could use help

catching up."

"Okay, sure."

Let me give you my number."

Lesley snorted. "Leda has a

boyfriend, just so you know."

I do?" I blinked.

Gary saw you guys making out in

the parking lot. You and some college

guy. Megan said she saw you, too."

"No, April told me she did," Megan

said.

I pursed my lips to hold back

laughter. Well, that rumor had

escalated quickly, and I wished it

were true. Touching Hart's arm

had literally left me breathless. The

thought of his mouth on mine, his

hands on my face and in my hair..

my toes curled. I didn't even know

how to kiss, but I would let him kiss

me any day.

Mr. Roy drifted past our table. "I

don't mind the chatter, ladies, but

please create while you socialize.

And Calvin, I assume that blank page

means you're brainstorming."

"Yes, sir," Cal said, but out of the

corner of my eye I saw him watching

me.

"This is not military school, Mr.

Keeper. Mr. Roy will do." Our

teacher moved on, Lesley and her

friends laughed, and I returned to

my painting, glad for the distraction.

Giving Cal my number could give

him the wrong idea. Plus, I didn't

know how to address the boyfriend

issue. Hart might as well have been

my boyfriend-I thought about him

constantly, I didn't want anybody

else-except for the minor detail of

his ignorance.

When the bell rang, I ducked out

of class and darted to the girls'

bathroom. I felt a little guilty dodging

Cal, but the popular kids would snap

him up soon enough and I didn't

want to be his charitv case.

Thanks to assigned seating in

oceanography, he ended up on

the other side of the classroom. I

caught him watching me again and I

half-smiled, and then I hightailed it

to the bus after class.

I had saved my favorite outfit for

Tuesday: Dark skinny jeans, suede

boots, and a long sleeved ombre top

that faded from turquoise to white.

It picked up the sea glass green of my

eyes. Most mornings, I snoozed my

alarm so many times that I barely

made it to the bus, but that dayI

woke early, showered and shaved,

dried my hair, and brushed it until

my scalp stung.

I piled the sandy pieces on top of my

head and debated a messy bun or

ponytail.

"Loose," I decided out loud, letting

the heavy locks swoosh around

my shoulders. I tried on a necklace

and tinted lip-gloss, both of which

I removed. I had a small collection

of makeup, but I rarely wore it. My

eyelashes were naturally long and

thick, my skin pale and clear, and

Iliked the way I felt with nothing

heavy coating my face.

When I got to school, Cal was waiting

at my locker. I beamed at him;

nothing could spoil my mood. I had

already reminded Mom about "art

club" and even told her it might run

longer than last week. Maybe Hart

and I could actually go somewhere,

do something.

You look happy," Cal observed.

1guess I am. What's up?" My smile

softened when I saw the leather

jacket hanging in my locker. Hart

was so sweet, letting me keep his

jacket. I wondered if he would get

another. He looked ridiculously good

in black.

I thought we could walk to

oceanography together."

Oh. Sure."

Nice coat." Cal was looking at me

looking at Hart's jacket. I don't know

why, but I shut my locker quickly.

"It's mine."

"You always keep two coats in your

locker?"

Yeah, cause... you never know."

He nodded slowly. "You never know

when zombies are going to raid

the school and ste al one coat from

everyone. I feel you."

I mirrored his somber expression.

"Exactly. Always be prepared."

"People are gonna come for that coat,

Leda. I mean, I know about it novw."

My lips twitched. I was about to tell

him that I had other jackets stashed

around the building when a body

hurtled into Cal, knocking him

against the lockers. I jumped. The

boy twisted Cal into a headlock. Then

they laughed and broke apart.

"Fucking Silver," the boy said. I

recognized him as one of the athletes

-they moved in a pack-though I

didn't know his name or what he

played.

"Still salty?" Cal grinned.

"Psh, no way. You got lucky." He

glanced at me. "Hey, Leda."

"Uh, hey."

"We've got practice again tomorrow,

Silv. You should come." The boy

strolled off and I stared after him.

"Bennett," Cal supplied.

"Oh. Was I supposed to know that?"

"He's in oceanography with us." He

frowned slightly. "And he's captain

of the varsity soccer team. Are you

sure you didn't just start going to this

school?"

To explain that I had been living

in a mist would require explaining

David and Hart, so I deflected. "You

make fast friends. I knew that would

happen. Silver?"

People usually like me. Then

again, people usually know their

classmates' names." He chuckled.

And I guess Silver is gonna be my

nickname." He twirled his white

streak in a way that told me he knew

precisely where it was.

I rolled my eyes and headed toward

our classroom. "I like you. I mean,

for someone I barely know. Like a

friend."

At that, he really laughed. "Don't

worry, I'm not getting the wrong

idea. And I wouldn't have gotten

the wrong idea if you gave me your

phone number."

I almost walked into the doorframe.

Cal had spoken my thoughts,

verbatim, and he proceeded to read

my shock like it was printed on my

face.

You were a little transparent," he

said. "See you in art."

I was relieved when Cal didn't trail

me out of oceanography. I needed

some time to practice my poker face.

Midway through art class, I fished

out my phone. I had been so

convinced he was flirting with me

that I had refused him help, which

made me as obnoxious as some of

the people I despised. "So"-I didn't

make eye contact-what's your

number, Cal?"

Iheard the amusement in his voice

as he recited the digits.

They still make flip phones?" said

Lesley.

I ignored her. I wasn't in the mood to

play her games, but Cal apparently

was. "Maybe they stopped," he said.

"Maybe Leda has the last one. It

could be vintage.

She giggled and brandished her

iPhone. "I love my phone."

"People give technology too much

time. It's ruining our culture." His

voice was cool, dismissive, and

Lesley deflated as she put away her

phone.

It was surreal to watch Cal handling

her as deftly as he had handled

me earlier. I studied him while he

painted.

Cal didn't look like he belonged in

any particular clique-or rather, he

looked like he could fit into almost all

of them. He had the golden-skinned

good looks and athletic figure of

the popular guys, he was smart and

charismatic, he was funny, and the

fact that he had placed into AP art

(along with his current painting,

a bright yellow sports car) told

me he was very artistic. I could

easily picture him mesmerizing

everyone in drama club, playing

an instrument, or even winning an

academic decathlon.

He glanced at me. "Your phone will

probably be the only one that works

after the zombie apocalypse, am I

right?"

I laughed a little. "Sure, but you'll

know about it."

Exactly, so hook me up when stuff

goes down."

My thoughts wandered between

Hart and Cal for the rest of the day.

If Cal wasn't flirting with me, it

seemed more and more likely that

Mrs. Callahan had pushed him at me.

The guy didn't need my help with

anything, and he would probably

stop talking to me once the jock

crowd assimilated him and he got a

popular girlfriend

That wouldn't bother me, though.

I would happily go back to my

uncomplicated, single-track thoughts

of Hart.

The last bell finally rang. I gave my

hair another comb in front of my

locker mirror, fluffed it, and smiled

at my reflection. Then I pulled on

Hart's jacket and headed outside.

The crowd of students had already

thinned and the busses were

pulling away. I expected to find

Hart standing in the middle of the

path, but he wasn't there. I lingered,

fiddling with my phone and scanning

the area. My mood plummeted with

each passing minute.

"Waiting for a ride?" Cal's already

familiar voice made me turn. I must

have looked miserable; his warm

smile instantly fell. "Hey, are you

okay?"

"Tm fine."

His dark eyes flickered over the

leather jacket, which was clearly too

large to be mine. "I didn't see you at

lunch."

"Maybe you didn't look hard

enough." I started walking toward

the parking lot. Hart had to be there.

"No, I did. I walked around the whole

cafeteria. Twice." Cal was following

me. "I checked the guidance office,

too."

"What is your deal?" I snapped. "Did

Mrs. Callahan tell you to stalk me or

something?"

He stopped and I kept going, though

I could already see that Hart and

his Jaguar were not in the parking

lot. A group of seniors snickered as I

wandered the pavement. I perched

on a concrete parking stop and

pretended to be busy with my phone.

Hart had ditched me: The fact

became clearer and clearer, and I

felt more and more stupid sitting

there in my nicest outfit, the wind

straggling my hair,

Maybe he was gone again, for good.

Maybe I had messed up by touching

him, or maybe something had

happened to him and I would never

know. A dozen bleak possibilities

crossed my mind. I checked that it

was Tuesday. I searched the pockets

of his jacket once again.

By the time Cal's shadow fell over

me, the parking lot was empty. My

eyes were red but dry. My butt was

freezing and my back stiff. I peered

up at him.

"Tm sorry," I mumbled. And I was,

because I had pushed him away for

the second time with no good reason.

"What for? Don't even worry about

it." He held two hot beverage cups

from the cafeteria vending machine.

Steam coiled out of the lids. "Vanilla

chai and hot chocolate. P'll take

whichever one you don't want."

I stared at a crack in the asphalt.

"The chai, please."

He sat beside me and I cradled the

warm Styrofoamn, tears pricking at

my eyes. His kindness on top of my

humiliation was almost too much.

"Thank you," I said after I got

control.

Tm just buttering you up so you'll

have my back when the zombies

"Don't. Seriously. I'm a jerk."

"Nope." He laughed and looked out

across the lot. "You're not a jerk,

Leda. Im a lot nicer than you, but

you're not a jerk."

I smirked. "Jeez, thanks."

"Telling it like it is. You're really

closed off, and people interpret that

as you not liking them. You probably

think you have people like Bennett

and Lesley all figured out."

"Most high schoolers don't have a lot

of depth," I admitted.

"They have more depth than you

give them credit for." He was gazing

at me now and smiling with strange

sincerity. It reminded me of the

smiles I sometimes caught Mom or

Dad giving me, or David. I stared and

he didn't look away, so I finally did.

"Tl see Mrs. Callahan when I need

shrinking, thanks."

"There you go again." He drained his

hot chocolate, stood, and stretched.

My stomach flipped. Was he already

giving up on me? I couldn't seem

to stop shoving away his offer of

friendship. "She didn't tell me to

stalk you, by the way. All she said

was that you're new here, too, and

that you could get me up to speed in

oceanography. Not sure I trust her,

though. She said you're verynice."

He gave me an arch look.

"i am ". "I jumped up". "I mean i can". "I can help".

"Well, that class is pretty easy,

honestly, and the only difficult

thing about art is Lesley Ciznek." He

meandered off and I hurried after

him.

"Don't let her bother you. She's an

idiot."

"She doesn't bother me. I feel sorry

for her." He said it gently, not

scornfully, and I knew he meant it.

"It's true, what they say. Bullies are

unhappy people."

Who thought they had everyone

figured out now? The question died

on my lips. I pretended I understood

my classmates so that I could hold

myself apart, whereas Cal, with his

sympathetic and generous view,

genuinely seemed to get people.

I squinted at his profile. "How old are you?".

"How old do I look?" He tossed out

the question casually, but it made me

stagger to a stop. How old do I look?

That was the same response Hart had

given me, word for word. Coming

from Hart, who was older, it had

made sense-not so much from one

of my peers.

"Eighteen?" I watched his

expression.

You're good."

"No, I'm not," I said. "I usually suck at

that kind of thing."

Cal stopped beside a small silver

Altima. The car didn't stand out like

Hart's Jaguar, though it was clearly

quite new. He shrugged. "I guess you

got lucky, then."

"I don't really get lucky, either."

"Well, you do today, because I have

a car and I think you need a ride."

He opened the passenger-side door

for me, just as Hart had done last

Tuesday

"Hey, do you..."I shook my head,

but I couldn't shake the uncanny

sense that Cal and Hart had more in

common. "Do you know a guy named

Hart?"

"No. Should I?"

"No. Never mind."

"Mysterious. Who's Hart?"

"Nobody." I dipped into the car and

he closed my door before getting in.

"Is he the nobody who gave you that

jacket?" If not for his half-joking

tone, Cal's questions would have

felt intrusive. I remained silent and

he nodded to himself. "Maybe the

nobody people think you're dating-

the college guy?"

I glared out my window. "Rumors are

ridiculous."

Where to?"

I gave him directions, something I

hadn't needed to do for Hart, and

he plugged in his phone and passed

it over, something Hart definitely

hadn't done for me. I couldn't picture

Hart owning a phone or an iTunes

library.

I scrolled through Cal's songs. "I love

The Lumineers."

"Go for it".

I played "Stubborn Love" and he

drummed on the wheel as he drove.

He got more and more into the song

until, at the line about not blaming

someone for running for years, he

started to sing as if he were alone, to

really sing, his knee bouncing and

palm keeping time.

This, I definitely couldn't picture

Hart doing.

I cleared my throat and tried not to

stare. Cal had a beautiful voice and

held the tune perfectly, and as I was

failing at not staring, he smiled over

at me and winked. I jerked my gaze

away. He turned up the volume,

rolled down his window, and went

right on singing at the top of his

lungs. The way he sang the chorus, I

could have sworn he was telling me

to keep my head up.

Happiness radiated off Cal like heat

off the summer sun, but instead

of warming me, it chilled me with

jealousy. It seemed cosmically unfair

that he could feel so at home on his

second day in a new place when I

hadn't felt at home anywhere in the

last seven years.

The song ended and he dialed down

the volume.

"That was nice," I mumbled, though

I desperately wished I had chosen a

less intimate song. Cal had sung to

me and every word had hit its mark.

"Thanks. I love music."

I scoured my brain for a neutral

topic. "T thought you would drive a

yellow Porsche."

"I wish".

"So what's with your best memory

painting?"

"Oh, it's what I saw when '-his

voice caught for a moment-"got

here, to Franklin. I mean when I

moved here, it was the first thing I

saw. It made me happy."

"Where did you move from?"

"Is this you? He pulled into my

driveway. Mom was cleaning leaves

out of the birdbath, or at least

pretending to, and she turned and

peered through Cal's windshield.

I wriggled out of Hart's coat and

shoved it into my backpack. Cal

wasn't smiling now. "I see. Pll spare

you a lecture about most older guys'

intentions."

"Thanks dad and thanks for the--".

He climbed out of the car before

I could finish. It was like he had

broken into song again; I could only

stare, stupefied, as he strolled over

and introduced himself to my mom.

My sense that Cal and Hart had

anything in common (apart from

an inexplicable interest in me) was

evaporating.

"Hello, ma'am. I'm Cal Keeper, Leda's

classmate." He shook her hand while

Ihovered.

It's wonderful to meet you, Cal. How

was art club, guys?"

Cal glanced at me.

"It was fine," I said. "My other friend

wasn't around, so Cal gave me a

ride."

Art club, my other friend, the jacket

-Cal had caught me in all my lies

today and it would serve me rightif

he exposed me.

"Leda is very talented," he said

evenly. "It was nice to meet you,

Mrs. Forester. Pl see you tomorrow,

Leda." He headed back to his car and

Mom followed me inside.

"He seems nice. So polite."

"He's just a friend." I bounded up to

my room.

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