49. Sliding and Falling

There’s another note inside my locker just like the last one, and it’s taped on all four sides so it’s impossible to slip off. I stare at the students passing me as I tear it off and save it for first period.

I make sure the letter is easy to access as Algebra 2 starts. I still don’t understand how we’re supposed to think about numbers and calculations this early in the morning. It’s just not right.

The letter is just like before, typed and printed from a computer.

Chris:

The best thing you can do right now is mind your business and stay out of trouble.

Don’t be noticed.

People are watching you.

Go under the radar and go with the flow.

And above everything else: Stay away from Pastor Jeremiah Marsh.

A friend

I look around to see if anybody is watching me. There’s an occasional obnoxious glance, but nothing suspicious.

Who’s watching me? And why does this “friend” not reveal himself?

I can’t wait to talk to Jocelyn.

I wonder how she will act today.

I want to tell her what I found yesterday in the cabin.

One thing I know. I can trust her.

It’s nice knowing that someone else is there.

This is a first.

I’ve always felt like I was on my own. Dad used to say that God watches over us and loves us, but I don’t buy that. The more I think about it, I don’t understand how He can love us, not in this sort of world. And I don’t want Him watching over me.

But I want Jocelyn watching over me.

My dad wouldn’t like those thoughts, but Mom would agree.

Wholeheartedly.

I like the way Jocelyn watches me when I sneak looks back at her.

The way she waits for me leaving the classroom.

The way she slowly strolls on the way to our next period.

I like the way I feel when I am near her. The way I feel when I casually say “see you later.”

I like the small smiles she gives during lunch as we listen to Poe and Rachel.

I like knowing that she knows. That she gets it, that she gets me.

I like everything about her and everything about this, and I know that I’m falling and I like that she knows this too.

I don’t want school to end because I don’t want to be away from her.

When she offers me a ride home, I like that even better.

This sort of thing goes on the next few days. Uneventful days. No more notes. No headbangers looking out for me.

I’m doing what the note said.

Staying under the radar.

Everyone’s radar except hers.

The moments screech by when she’s away, then evaporate when she’s near.

I’m not in this place but somewhere else. I’m not sixteen but much older. I’m not Chris Buckley but someone better, better in a thousand ways.

I like all of this and feel like something has unwedged itself. I like all of this but don’t want to mention that other word, the L word, because I don’t get it. I don’t think I know what that is. Maybe that’s what I’m sliding into, but I don’t think I’m there quite yet.

Am I?

“I shouldn’t be doing this,” Jocelyn says over and over.

“Doing what?”

But I know.

I’m not the only one sliding and falling.

She’s slipping with me, holding my hand as we go.