Finding Eden (5 page)

“
Oh boy,” she
grabs the tubes of paint and helps put them in my tackle box, “sorry
that happened, Eden.”

“
It wasn't your
fault,” I tell her, glaring once again at Sahariel even though
he has his back turned to me. And as I'm glaring at him, he turns
around and looks at me, as if he can feel me looking at him.

He looks at me for a long
time, but then his eyes leave mine and they scan the room. And I know
from this very moment that this person is going to be the bane of my
existence.

“
Way to go, Eden,”
I talk to myself, “you're nice to one person and see what they
do to you.”

The next day at school
isn't any better. I walk through the hallways aware of Sahariel the
whole time. He walks just a few feet behind me and I'm on my toes
waiting for him to try and do something to me.

I walk into my science
class which he somehow was able to get into. I'm not paying attention
and I stub my toe on a desk and my books fall to the floor. Everyone
starts laughing; everyone except for me and Sahariel.

I bend down to pick them
up and Sahariel joins me. I don't want his help. All I hear is the
people around me laughing and the slapping of high fives. A guy
sitting in a desk near us leans forward and pats Sahariel on the
back. He tries to help me but I force him away, glaring at him. My
life was enjoyable before he came along, now I feel too cramped, I
feel like I can't breathe.

Taking my seat, I can
somehow feel Sahariel take a seat behind me. I take a deep breath and
try to pay attention to the lecture, but I'm distracted every time
Sahariel movies, as if I'm part of his ocean.

The class is
frustratingly long. Every five minutes my focus is lost because
Sahariel decides to fidget. His chair scrapes against the floor, and
although it's not a loud sound, it screeches in my ears lie
fingernails on a chalkboard. Thirty minutes into the class I had
enough.

I quickly turn in my
seat, “Are you done?” I glare at him, “Seriously,
are you finished?”

He just looks at me and
doesn't say a word. I stare at him hard for a few more seconds and
then finally turn around in my seat. I don't hear another noise from
him.

The bell rings, but it
doesn't startle me, I'm staring at the clock. I already have my
things packed, and I'm already out the door and halfway down the
hallway by the time I feel Sahariel catch up to me. But he doesn't
walk next to me again, he walks slightly behind, almost as if he's
been doing it all of his life, like he's been trained to do it.

I walk into the lunchroom
and rush to the table where Brock and Evaughn are already sitting. I
try to ignore the look on Brock's face as his jaw drops and his
sandwich almost falls from his hand. I sit down and keep my eyes away
from both Brock and Evaughn and my attention diverted from Sahariel.

“
Uh,” Brock
is speechless, “what the heck?”

“
Please don't ask,”
I beg.

“
No, I think I have
to.”

I look at him with the
most pleading expression that I have, but it doesn't work. He just
sits there and waits for an answer.

“
I don't know! He's
just been following me around ever since I got to school today. It's
starting to piss me off.” I shake my head and rub my palms
across my face.

The look on Brock's face,
best described as annoyance, is slowly replaced with a different
look; a look of worry. He reaches across the table and puts his hand
over mine. I see out of the corner of my eye as Sahariel watches
closely, as if he's not sure if the act should be allowed.

“
He hasn't done
anything to you, has he?” Brock asks in a concerned tone.

“
Oddly enough,
aside from following me, he hasn't done anything. Well, scratch that,
because he's been following me around, people have been watching like
it's some sort of freak show and I'm the star.”

“
But no,” I
reassure him, “other than those things, he hasn't done
anything.”

“
That's good,”
Brock reluctantly takes his hand back.

I look behind myself for
Sahariel, but he's not there. He's walked to the other side of the
room and is now surrounded by the popular crowd. They're all patting
him on the back, for what, I don't know, probably for following me
around and freaking me out.

“
Well that was
interesting,” Evaughn says as she finally speaks up.

“
I don't think
'interesting' is the right word for it,” I say.

“
Alright,”
Evaughn pauses, “how about odd?”

“
Yeah that's a
little better. But in all honesty I don't think there is a word out
there to properly describe that situation.”

I try to eat my lunch,
but I'm painfully aware of every move Sahariel makes from me. Brock
and Evaughn talk the whole time, but I am too preoccupied with my new
internal GPS for Sahariel's location. Every time I look at him, and
the more time I spend with him, I can feel that connection growing.

Part of me, the very
small part that sits in the back of my head and whispers to me and
makes me feel crazy, wants this. I want so badly for someone to
actually like me without any pretenses. Aside from Bock and Evaughn
that is.

Lunch ends and I walk to
art, careful about my feet. I don't want to trip over anything today
and get laughed at again. Just like yesterday, Sahariel follows me,
but once we reach the classroom, he makes no move to move to the
other side. He grabs an easel and sets up right next to me.

“
I hope you don't
mind,” he says as he sets up.

I shrug and shake my
head. I don't care, but I am curious why he is so bent on being
around me, trying not to get too hopeful. I sit in front of my
painting, not sure whether I want to work on it today. I sigh and
finally drag the sheet off, cringing as it lands on the floor. I
expect something from Sahariel, but at the moment he's rather
engrossed in his own painting. I breathe a sigh of relief and begin
to work on mine.

Halfway through class
Sahariel takes a break and leans over and looks at my painting.

“
Who are you
painting?” He asks quietly.

“
My mom.”

“
She's very
beautiful,” he smiles and looks over at me. I wish I could see
his colors.

“
She's dead,”
I say after a few moments of silence, fingers rubbing the scar. I
look into his eyes the whole entire time. I barely whisper it, but
like in the cafeteria, he can hear me crystal clear.

“
I'm sorry,”
is all he says.

The rest of class passes
in silence between us. I really want to know what he's thinking, but
I don't know him well enough to ask him that question. I really wish
I could see his colors.

The bell rings and it
startles me. My hand jolts just inches above my canvas but no mark is
made. Sahariel's fingers are wrapped around my wrist, stopping my
paintbrush from marring my painting.

“
Thank you,”
I say, smiling at him as he unwraps his fingers from around my wrist.

“
My pleasure,”
he smiles and leaves the room without another word.

I sit there are stare
after him. I can feel the tingling sensation that burst across my
skin when Sahariel grabbed me start to diminish from my wrist. I just
can't figure out why he's doing the things he's doing.

As I walk from art, I
can't decide if I like him or not. Sahariel is constantly following
me around, and I've become a total klutz because of it. I'm
constantly tripping over my own feet and stumbling over non-existent
obstacles. What makes it even worse is that there is always someone
around to laugh at me and like Sahariel even more.

The popular crowd loves
him, despite the fact that he follows me around, sits next to me in
every class, eats with me during lunch and makes no attempt at all to
be popular. I watch every day as he makes no attempt to be friends
with them, yet they seem to love him more because of it. It makes no
sense to me. At all. But again, that little crazy lady part of my
brain steps in and plows the fields for the crazy seeds that start up
the does-he-like-me thoughts.

Sahariel just follows me
around school, somehow appearing out of thin air behind me when I
walk through the school doors and disappearing randomly as I leave.
He hasn't done anything to me, but I still can't figure out why he's
following me. And after days of questioning, I burn the fields and
freak out on him.

“
What are you,”
I wheel at him, “a lost puppy dog or something?”

He doesn't say anything;
he just stands there and looks at me.

“
Well?” I
huff and walk closer. I know he heard me.

I stand a few feet in
front of him, my arms crossed over my chest. I resist the urge to tap
my foot as I wait for an answer, and as I do so, I look into his
eyes.

They're so gold. His eyes
look like a thousand gold flecks sitting on the bottom of a creek
bed, glittering and shining as the water runs over it. The light
bounces off them in rainbows and I can't make myself look away. I
feel like I don't want to, and as I stand there, I can feel that
connection between us start to strengthen.

“
No,” he says
after what feels like forever, “I just want to be your friend,
that's all.”

“
My friend?”

“
Yes.”

“
Why?”

He shrugs.

“
No, seriously,”
I feel like I'm interrogating him, “why be friends with me,
someone who obviously isn't interested, when you could be friends
with all the popular kids who obviously want you around?”

“
Because all of
those other people don't interest me,” he says a bit too
intensely. Goosebumps rise up on my neck.

“
And I do?” I
try not to sound breathless.

“
To a degree, yes,”
he tries to be nonchalant about it, but I can hear, buried deep in
his voice, that the words he's using don't quite cover it.

“
Why?”

“
Just something
about you I guess,” He shrugs, the intensity gone, “mind
if I walk you to your car?”

“
Uh,” I don't
know what to say, “Sure? I guess.”

I look away from him and
shake my head. He walks slightly behind me, and when I look back at
him I can see him looking around, as if searching for something, or
someone.

“
Mind if I ask what
you're looking for?” He's sparked my curiosity.

“
Just paranoid,”
he says, making it clear he'd rather not explain.

“
I don't understand
you at all,” I shake my head.

“
Most don't,”
he smiles at me.

We reach my car and we
both stand there for a few seconds.

“
Well, I guess I'm
going to head home,” I open the driver’s side door, “do
you need a lift anywhere?”

“
No, but thank
you,” he says and begins to walk away, “I will see you
tomorrow.”

“
Yeah,” I
say, “see you tomorrow.”

I hop into my car and
drive home. What is his deal? Why does he constantly follow me
around? Most of the time he annoys me beyond belief, but there are
small moments when I feel absolute awe about him, and it annoys me
even more because I can't figure out why I feel that way. The old
brain lady cackles and plows.

Everyday it's been the
same thing with him. Show up, have Sahariel follow me, fall over
something that doesn't exist, get laughed at and then leave school
alone. And somewhere in that mash up, I look at Sahariel and I get
lost. Then rinse and repeat. Unfortunately.

I don't know what it is
about him. I think about the weeks Sahariel has been following me and
I just get frustrated. Even during lunch, my time with Evaughn and
Brock, I think about Sahariel's odd behavior. They've quickly adapted
to his presence, not thinking anything of it, but I can't stop
thinking about it, and it puts me in a foul mood. A mood that,
believe me, Brock and Evaughn have noticed.

“
Stop being such a
grouch all the time,” Evaughn says after I snap at her.