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Every drawing, every little action figure and cereal box trinket had been a gentle, persistent message from Adrian. I love you. Please, love me too.
And it had worked.
Mr. Smith turned his back and scribbled a problem on the chalkboard, chalk scraping, dust floating, and monotonous explaining.
An Obi Wan Kenobi action figure appeared on the edge of Ophelia’s desk, waving its little blue light saber. She pressed lips together to keep from smiling.
Adrian walked Obi Wan two steps.
Taking out a fresh piece of paper, she pretended to take notes, but her hand drifted closer and closer to the action figure until her fingers wrapped around it, brushing his warm ones as he released it, and drew it safely into her keeping. I’m gonna die, I’m gonna, oh, dog, I’m gonna die.
Queen Amidala danced across her desk too.
Ophelia’s mouth dropped back open at the little action figure with brown hair-twists, white tummy-bearing outfit, and blaster-pistol. She darted a gaze back up into Adrian’s grinning face.
The teacher turned around.
Adrian left the doll and withdrew his hand.
Ophelia concealed the Queen under her paper.
Mr. Smith faced the chalkboard again, this time assigning excelling students to help those lagging behind.
A USS Voyager starship Christmas tree ornament landed on Ophelia’s open textbook. She danced the Queen out from under the paper and made her blast the spaceship.
Adrian made little dying sounds and flipped it over on its belly.
Ophelia laughed.
“Uh, excuse me?” Mr. Smith drew their attention to the chalkboard. He glared at them both, chalk in hand.
Ophelia stopped smiling.
“Hormones running amuck.” Mr. Smith shifted eyes from her to Adrian and back. “I’ll just forget that happened, but only because I’ve never heard Ophelia Dawson laugh before.” He winked and returned to the chalkboard.
Ophelia swallowed hard and glanced at Adrian, who grinned.
The other geeks snickered. They wouldn’t tell. They hated Martin too.
And so did the teacher.
Class swirled and swooned in a mass of good feelings, but Ophelia could afford the indulgence with her grades. In an unprecedented act of compassion, the teacher assigned her to help Adrian, who didn’t need it. They scooted desks together, and she hoped his leg would never stop pressing against hers as they sat, elbow to elbow, and pretended to work. “One plus one is two,” she whispered, scrawling out the numbers. Mm, his neck smells so nice.
“I got that right. Do I get a gold star?”
She drew a star on the back of his hand, all the while feeling his warm breath on her face.
His finger sneaked under to trace her palm’s lifeline.
Too soon, the first bell rang.
Ophelia jerked in her seat. “Oh, no.” With one sweep of her arm, she crammed all books, notebooks, folders, action figures, and writing implements into her backpack, zipped it up, and slung it over one shoulder. And she raced for the door.
“Ophelia.” Adrian’s voice followed her.
She kept going. Please, stay away from me until we get to English.
Martin could intercept her between Calculus and English on his way to P.E. if she didn’t hurry.
“Ophelia.” Adrian grasped her elbow without pressing his suit. “Wait, please.”
She turned back. “Martin’ll kill you.” She looked over her shoulder at the other geeks squeezing out the door and into the crowded hallway. “I’m not worth the trouble.”
“Yes, you are.”
Ophelia lifted her eyes. “It’s just that right now, until I can...”
“I’ve been sitting next to you for four months trying to...”
A body smashing against a locker stopped them and jerked both their heads toward the hall.
“I saw you following her.” Martin’s angry voice.
Ophelia squeezed through the geeks. “Martin, stop. Please.”
Martin pinned Trevor against a beaten-up freshman locker. His fierce hazel eyes became boyish again. “Ophelia.” His scowl melted into an indulgent grin, full lips parting for perfect white teeth.
Gripping her backpack strap with one hand, she laid a hand on his solid forearm and looked up, way up, into his eyes. “Trevor’s just my lab partner in chemistry.”
Martin glared at the boy with the terrified brown eyes. “He’s the slimeball who tried to kiss you.”
“Trevor was Zorro. The boy who kissed me is a pirate.” Ophelia tugged at Martin’s arm. “Please, let’s just go.”
Martin resumed his indulgent grin. “Okay, whatever you say.” He dropped the boy and wrapped both arms around her, leaning way over to press his hot face against her neck. “Mm, I love you so much.”
Yeah, for breakfast, you freakin’ psycho. She cringed, and tears stung her eyes. Only Adrian touches me now.
An egg smashed into the back of Martin’s head.
He straightened. “Who threw that?” Egg-white slimed down his shoulder.
The student body froze in wide-eyed silence before the son of the principal.
Ophelia craned her neck from within Martin’s locked arms. Run, Adrian. Run fast. Get away.
A door shut around the corner.
Martin released her and charged, students leaping out of his way.
The door hit the wall and slammed shut.
Ophelia backed against the wall and tried to disappear as her classmates hurried past. Please, be all right, Adrian. She hugged her books to her chest and scurried like a squirrel along the wall to Honors English.
In contrast to the Calculus classroom, Mrs. Cox had covered her room with posters from all the movies based on great literature, everything from Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone to The Muppet Christmas Carol. Kermit the Frog sat on the teacher’s desk, holding a scull as though acting out a part in Shakespeare’s Hamlet.
Mrs. Cox was often accused of being a ‘mother hen’ to her students, but no one could say she didn’t have a sense of humor. Alaska Native, her short black hair mixed with plenty of white strands. She wore a leather cord necklace with a bear-stone pendent.
Ophelia pulled out a large hardback novel with a glossy paper jacket featuring a brunette in a regency gown beneath the title, Sense and Sensibility, and the author’s name, Jane Austen. Where is Adrian? He’s fast. He’s a ninja, but Martin’s a jock. She opened the book and resumed reading Star Wars Allegiance by Timothy Zahn. She always finished reading the assigned books first, so she’d have time to read what she wanted while the other kids caught up. She’d learned to switch book covers in the sixth grade when Science Fiction suddenly became not-cool. If the Princess doesn’t pack a blaster, I’m not interested.
“‘They seek him here,’” Mrs. Cox quoted from The Scarlet Pimpernel. “’We seek him there,’” she carried on, the class’s full attention on her. “’Those Frenchies seek him everywhere.’” She’d once been an actress. “’Is he in heaven? Is he in hell? That demmed, elusive Pimpernel.’”
Adrian miraculously appeared in the desk beside her just as the tardy bell rang.
Ophelia sucked in a cold breath and hid behind her book. “You all right?” She whispered.
“Oh, yeah.” He winked. “It’s not difficult to manipulate people who are too weak to control their own tempers.” Lips curling into a satisfied smile, he nodded to the mountains looming in the window. “Ol’ lard-butt’s still out there, trying to hunt me down. He’s a stubborn bastard, that’s for sure.”
“He used to be nice.” Half of her thought his handling of Martin to be very funny, but the other half worried he’d get himself killed eventually.
“Which one are you sneaking in now?” Adrian leaned close enough to read the word, ‘lightsaber.’ He chuckled. “I thought you might start Timothy Zahn’s books after Anne McCaffrey. I liked Heir to the Empire best.”
“How did you know?”
“I figured it out a long time ago.” Adrian opened his textbook. “If it doesn’t have lightsabers or photon torpedoes, you’re just not interested.”
Her whole universe slowed to a stop until there was nothing in it but him.
He flashed his endearing smile. “You think no one pays attention to you.”
“It’s true, except when I’m with lard-butt.” Ophelia pushed out a breath and forced focus on Mrs. Cox walking around her desk. “And only because everyone’s afraid of him. No one listens to me.”
“I listen.”
I want to curl up on his shoulder and go to sleep. Her scrambling thoughts quieted into the tranquility of his presence.
Mrs. Cox plucked the book out of Ophelia’s hands and sighed after reading a few lines. “Strange, I don’t recall Elinor wielding a lightsaber in my copy of Sense & Sensibility.”
Ophelia tucked her lower lip under her top teeth.
Adrian shifted in his seat. “Well, you know, Fanny Dashwood was really getting on her nerves.”
Mrs. Cox winked at Ophelia, smiling, and handed her the book. “Science Fiction is an admirable genre,” she said, returning to her desk midst chuckles from other students. “How many of you know Star Trek inspired the creation of real technology, such as the automatic opening door?”
“What’s an automatic opening door?” Trevor laughed, and several students laughed with him.
“Good point.” Mrs. Cox. “It may be a while before such a gizmo makes it Togo. If not for our DVD players and the Internet, we probably wouldn’t know a whole lot about the Outside. All right, let’s get started with actual work now.”
Everyone groaned.
Class proceeded from there, all about literature written in and about the French Revolution. Ophelia covertly played with Adrian while Mrs. Cox pretended not to notice. By the time it ended, a plastic Storm Trooper slid down the center of Ophelia’s open book and Queen Amidala blasted it too. Ears warmed, she needed to smuggle Adrian home without Martin finding out.
At last, the bell rang, and she shoved stuff into her backpack, preparing for the sprint to the guidance counselor’s office with the other college-bound juniors.
“Ophelia.”
Out she fled, only to be stopped near the stairwell by a bunch of guys ogling cheerleaders who were selling chocolate to raise funds for the regional championship trip. She tried to squeeze in behind a linebacker still in his football jersey, but he was an immovable skyscraper. And he stunk because he hadn’t changed since the season ended a month before.
Adrian touched her elbow and muttered into her ear from behind. “This way.” His breath tickled like crazy. He slipped behind a six-foot inflatable snowman and under the stairwell, draped with evergreen bows and red velvet bows. He peeked around a silver bell and his dimple accentuated his grin.
Ophelia glanced around for any threat and inched closer and closer to the stairwell. I just know he wants to kiss me. If he doesn’t kiss me, I am going to be so put out.
Adrian pulled her behind the stairwell. He stood very close but did not kiss her.
“What are we doing in here?” Ophelia finally asked.
“Well, I thought...” His upper cheek twitched.
She followed his finger scratching his cheek. “We shouldn’t do...this...here.” She’d pretended not to listen when her sister bragged about making out under the stairwell at school.
“Then what about?” Adrian touched a finger to her upper cheek. “Here?”
Ophelia closed her eyes when he pressed a kiss there. “Okay, there’s...fine.”
“And here?” He touched the corner of her mouth.
“Yes.”