I SAT in a nest of pine needles that I’d made beside the pond, tossing bits of the needles in the water as I broke them off.
The sound of rustling leaves startled me. I figured it was a squirrel or a wren. Zack descended from the hill, defying my assumptions.
“Hey,” he said.
His hands were tucked in his hoodie pockets. His cheeks were red, probably from the biting chill in the air.
“The pharmacy’s closed,” I snarked.
“Hardy har har.” As he approached, his eyes scanned me over, like he was trying to discern my mood.
Considering our last conversation, he should’ve known.
“Why’d you come here?”
“Because I feel like a jerk.”
“Doesn’t even matter.”
“Yes, it does.”
He leaned against a thin pine tree across from me, his hands still in his pockets. He pursed his lips. He looked like he was trying to think of something to say. Was he really here to tell me he was sorry? Or did he need something else?
He didn’t say anything. Just stood there.
“Well,” he finally said. “I owe you an apology at least.” He knelt till we were at eye level. “I’m sorry.”
He had a sincere gleam in his eyes. At least, I hoped it was sincere. Maybe it wasn’t any more sincere than all that bull he’d given me the other day. Maybe he was just trying to make sure I would be a compliant source of favors in the future.
He leaned back, rested his back against the tree, and kicked his feet out so that he was sitting.
A frog leapt into the pond. Startled by the sound, Zack turned.
Ripples splashed against the shore.
“I know what I do disgusts you,” he said, “and you don’t want anything to do with it, but the whole reason I didn’t tell you was because I wanted to….”
His words trailed off. He didn’t finish them. He glanced around. I figured he was trying to find the right way to word it.
“What?” I pressed. He was taking up my break, and I wasn’t in the mood to talk to anyone… especially not him.
“I don’t know,” he said. “You’re an interesting guy. I felt like we could talk more. Get to know each other.”
His face turned crimson, matching his cheeks.
What’s with all these boys wanting to hang out with me? I wondered. He’s just trying to take advantage of me.
Still, it was nice having someone there. Made me feel a little less alone.
“You think I’m awful,” he said, “don’t you?”
“I think what you do is awful. But you did save my ass and keep those guys from tearing me apart, so I’m not sure that I can call you awful. But what you did really wasn’t cool.”
“I know.”
He trailed his thumb through the leaves beside him. The look in his eyes was how I figured the look in my eye appeared when I was picking apart pine needles. Contemplative. Meditative.
“That shit you said,” he continued. “You really think that about yourself?”
“What?”
“Back at my place. You said you’re hideous.”
Now my face was matching his cheeks.
“I was just being dramatic.”
“Luke—”
Pressure swelled in my face. Moisture shifted at the corner of my eye. Be strong, I ordered. Be fucking strong. Don’t let him see you fall apart. But I couldn’t. I had to get away. I sprinted to my feet and headed toward the school. “I’ve gotta—”
Something grabbed my arm and flipped me around.
Zack stood right before me, those brown eyes matching the trees around us, his lips hypnotizing me, drawing me in.
I waited for him to say something… to protest… to argue… anything. But he was silent, just looking into my eye. That stupid one eye. I felt weak, gross. “I don’t need your pity,” I said through clenched teeth.
“I’m not pitying you, Luke.”
Another seemingly sincere comment. I didn’t like it, because I trusted it. And he didn’t deserve my trust.
“Why’d you really come?” I asked. “What do you need? Just tell me. I’ll do it. I don’t care.”
I would have rather him affirm my suspicions. I wanted to know that he really was an asshole, because I was having a hard time deciding what to think of him, and it was making my head hurt.
He released my arm. “I guess I deserve that. But I’m sorry that you think so little of me to believe that the only reason I’d come to you is because I need something. Luke, you’re really cool. Maybe I just want to be your friend.”
I sniffled, sucking back the wet fluids I could feel about to pour from me. Why are you such a fucking pussy? I shouted at myself.
I wanted to believe him, but at the same time, I couldn’t help but believe there was more to it. There had to be. He didn’t have any reason to want to be friends with me. No one did. Well, maybe Tom, but at least I understood why he did. I was the only one he could talk with about being a cursed. Zack, on the other hand, had people he could turn to. He probably had a girlfriend. Someone he could be with… someone who could bring him a sort of ease and comfort I’d never be able to feel.
“You really think there’s something wrong with you,” Zack said. “You’re missing a fucking eye and a hand. Big fucking deal.”
“What?”
“Jesus Christ, it’s not like someone sprayed your face with acid. You think you’re the only one who’s missing a limb? An eye?”
“No, but I don’t think that someone who doesn’t have a fucking clue about it has any right to act like it’s not a big deal.”
“Sorry. I don’t mean it’s not a big deal. I just—I look at you, and you’re so amazing. And I can’t help but feel that you’re hard on yourself because of something that’s such a small part of who you are—something that I don’t think anyone who knows you even notices.”
The thought of my reflection… without my patch… without my sweater replayed in my mind over and over again. He was lying again. Did he really think I was that oblivious? That I couldn’t imagine how other people saw me? I knew what they saw, and worse. I’d seen what they feared seeing every morning. I knew how disgusting it really was.
“That’s so easy to say,” I said, pulling back my patch, “when you’re not looking right at it.”
Go ahead. Look away.
He would have to. It was too unbearable for him not to. But he didn’t. He just stood there, looking… disappointed.
“You think that freaks me out?” he asked, stepping toward me.
I retreated, shifting the patch back over my eye.
What was he doing? Why was he moving closer? It was disgusting.
I’d wanted him to fail my test. I’d needed him to… just so I could convince myself he was horrible and move on. He’d shattered my assumptions and thrown my thoughts into a labyrinth of confusion.
“It freaks me out,” I said. “Every time I see it. I usually try to put the patch on before I get dressed, just so I don’t have to look at it. So I don’t have to face it.”
Zack stepped toward me again, placing his thumb on my cheek.
My insecurity dissolved. I felt so safe next to him. Like I could collapse into his arms.
Why is he doing this? Why is he touching me like this?
Bzzz….
My alarm.
“Shit. I have to get back to work.”
Despite my worry about being late, I was relieved to be getting away from him. I needed time to think. I couldn’t make sense of Zack. I flipped around and started up the hill.
“Hey!” he called.
I spun back around.
He stood at the base of the hill. Under that ridiculous hair, the corners of his lips twisted down in a sad yet playful expression.
“We cool?” he asked.
Were we? I wasn’t sure if I could really trust him, but again, I wasn’t in the position to reject potential friends. And that feeling I got with him—that feeling of safety, of ease—I didn’t want to do anything to keep myself from feeling it again.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.”
A charming, frighteningly disarming smirk pressed into his red cheek.
I couldn’t help but smile back.