How I Fly (19 page)

Harrison pulls his arms from around the girls and waves his tray wide. “Ellen! There you are!”

She smiles and waves back at him as though she’s been hypnotized.

I wonder again if I’m making all this Harrison conspiracy stuff up in my head…because I can’t be mature about him and Ellen dating? Is that what’s going on here?

We walk toward the line, and the French girls all laugh again at something Harrison’s whispering. It’s all I can do not to cement my feet to the floor and let Ellen walk on without me.

“See?” she says. “He’s always just playing around. He makes everyone laugh. Look at those three girls—they couldn’t stop laughing if they wanted to. That’s really Harrison just being Harrison. He told me he loves making people laugh.”

People. Or hot girls?

Hate. Hate. Hate.

I’m so annoyed I feel like my temples are going to pound off my head from my brand-new headache.

Stroke.

Although I know I shouldn’t ask it at all, I find my voice going brittle, and I bite out, “Why
the hell
didn’t he wait for you after class? Like, when he knew Professor Perry was going to say something to you, why didn’t he wait for you?”

“Oh.” Ellen shoots me a glance as though she’s startled that I sound so angry. “Don’t you know? Harrison is, like, pre-diabetic or something. He gets really low blood sugar and he can’t wait for me all the time because he needs to eat. A lot. Like, all the time or something, so he’s always running off because he’s got to take care of that or he feels really sick. Didn’t he mention it? You probably noticed he keeps a careful diet.”

“Oh. Oh, right.” I know I’m supposed to feel like an ass right now, but I don’t believe it on word about Harrison’s story. I’ve watched Harrison down super-sized slushy drinks, entire bags of caramel popcorn, three chocolate bars at once just yesterday, and he’s addicted to the late-night hot chocolates he gets out of the student lounge made with two or three chocolate drink packets. I’m pretty sure if a kid had pre-diabetic tendencies, his diet would be very different.

Harrison steps out of line to come over to talk, placing his hand in Ellen’s. “Hey. What happened? Are you in some sort of trouble?”

Ellen flushes like she’s embarrassed. “I forgot to turn in my assignments, and he wanted to talk to me about it.”

Keeping my face steadfast, I watch Harrison like a hawk, but the guy does all the right things: Eyebrows up. Mouth drops open. Small gasp of shock and one very concerned “Ellen. You’re
kidding
. I’m so sorry.” And then a statement that’s more telling than everything: “Are you out of the scholarship running? Did he…kick you out? My God. I’m so sorry.”

Ellen raises her brows. “Don’t worry, I’m okay. He gave me another chance.”

I pretend to check my text messages, but I’ve not missed the small flicker of what looks like disappointment or annoyance that’s crossed his face.

Was there a flicker? Is he disappointed Ellen’s not been kicked out of the scholarship running? What’s this guy’s deal? There are three scholarships. Why would he want Ellen out? Why am I suddenly feeling as if I’m going insane here…oh…man.

I’m losing it.

Losing it.

I quickly text Patrick, who’s been tracking us from across the room:
Save me. I need to talk to you. I need to get out of here. We need to talk.

And then, just when I’m about to convince Patrick to take me to the nurse’s office so I can check myself into some sort of psychiatric office to be evaluated, Patrick texts me back:
Dude. I know. Something’s not right about Harrison Shaw. Meet me out front.

Ellen

I flop back against my seat and can’t help but pout to Laura, who’s my seatmate for the ride to Grand Bend. “This bus situation is not what I’d hoped it would be.”

I’m referring to the part where Harrison didn’t fight to sit next to me; rather he let Patrick and Cam convince him to sit with them. I shouldn’t be annoyed about the guy friendship that’s hopefully solidifying between those three…but I am. I’d hoped Harrison and I could snuggle up and nap on each other. But Patrick and Cam had been so insistent. Pushy, even. Saying how it was
guy time
.

*Imagines what guy time really means. Can’t think of anything because there’s no TV, no video games to play, and it’s not like they’re going to sit and talk, because guys don’t do that.*

I mutter out half of my thoughts. “And now—look at what their dumb guy time has turned into. Just…ugh. It’s not guy time anymore. It’s guy French-fantasy time!”

“Right?” Laura crosses her arms in front of her and copies my pout. “I can’t believe no one told us the French girls would be going with us to Grand Bend. I feel like we should’ve been split by class for the bus ride. Photo students in the back, exchange students in the front, and…it’s all just a big mess now, isn’t it?”

“I think Professor Perry was surprised too, but he seems to be quite friendly snuggled up there with Madame Bouchard now.”

We both scoot up and peer over the tops of the seats to the front of the bus, and I add, “You mean he’s friendly with Madame Bouchard’s long legs?”

Laura smirks. “She should move those away from him. He’s likely to drool on her ankles! Bloody disgusting the way he’s making those cow’s eyes at her.”

I grin, realizing how much I’ve missed hanging out with Laura London and her cute accent. “And the way she smells like expensive Chanel perfume?” I add.

Laura holds her nose. “For that matter, this whole bus smells like a duty-free shop exploded in here.” She wrinkles her nose at every French kid near us, and then leans in to whisper, “And did you bloody notice the unfairness that exists in the entire country of France?”

I blink. “I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about.”

She leans even closer and blinks her wide blue eyes. “The women of France are genetically advanced, while the guys…are simply skinny…very well-dressed…newts! Not a one of the ones we got here this summer are even worth half-a-snog, don’t you think? Making matters worse, we’re going to have to see them pasty white rib caged boys wearing European Speedos at Grand Bend whilst our boys will be happily staring at Chloe, Charisse and Sheridan’s …
everythings
!”

“Speedos!” I gasp out. “No one wears those anymore.”

“Oh, they would, and they do! I was raised on the beaches of Europe. Prepare yourself that the visitors will be wearing swimsuits so small you couldn’t fit them on a newborn’s baby toe.”

I bust out laughing, imagining Laura in her 1920s getup next to a girl dressed in a postage-stamp bikini. Trying really hard to think of a positive, I whisper, “Before they got on the bus, this whole smelled like sweaty soccer socks. You know it’s better now.”

“Yeah. I guess. But did you see their shorts?”

“The guys’ shorts?” I give her an innocent look. “Or the shorts on the genetically advanced creatures? Because I didn’t think they were wearing shorts at all—I only saw shirts and—”

“Please. Don’t say what we all saw. It’s demeaning to speak of other people’s nude body parts. Cheeky French bottom-flashing-nudists.”

I choke back a laugh. “Literally.”

“If I weren’t so cheesed, I’d laugh, because it’s kind of funny.”

“You’re so cute when you get…
cheesed
.” I grin. “I’m happy to be sitting only with you anyhow. I’ve missed you these past weeks.”

“It’s been for a good cause. I’ve left you and your Harrison alone to grow your
love
.” She giggles. “But I’ve also missed you. I’m assuming once we get to the lake, you’ll be slipping off to be alone with
him
again?” She pouts mournfully.

I smile. “I hope so. But I’m not going to abandon you. It appears we will both need to do some swimsuit shopping.”

“Oh, not me. I’ll be hiding out with Cam whilst waiting and wishing for Patrick to finally fall in love with someone else. If I put this beauty”—she points at her body—”into a bikini from this century, I’ll have lost all my hard work.”

Laura sighs, glancing back to where Patrick, Cam and Harrison—who’d thought they’d secured the six-seat back row all to themselves—are now smashed like sardines because of the sudden arrival of Chloe, Charisse, and Sheridan.

“Possibly, this bus ride is going to help with some of that. Thanks to you and France.”

“Yeah. Great.” I sigh, trying really hard to be a supportive friend even though I think Laura
should
be with Patrick, while trying
not
to be jealous that Harrison is now pressed between Sheridan and Charisse. Sadly, both of these things are indirectly my fault.

Not my fault that the French students are on our bus, of course.

That, according to Professor Perry’s hasty explanation while the extra students all crowded on last minute when a second bus never showed up, was a matter of budget constraints.

See…while he was doing his informative speech, I was only half listening, because I’d started reading a new book on my iPhone Kindle app. I actually never saw the French girls coming until they were literally on top of us. Once I realized what was happening, I tried to move fast and grab the seats next to
our
boys for me and Laura—but, of course, when I move fast…well…yeah.

Nothing happens.

In this case, my good arm cooperated enough to slide the crutches out from under the seats just in time for the bad arm to spaz. It looked like I was trying to trip the French girls by whacking them as they passed by. While I muttered, “Sorry! Sorry!” Charisse ended up sprawled all over Harrison’s and Patrick’s laps. Something neither of the guys seemed to mind.

In fact, the guys—and I mean all the guys on the bus, not the skinny French guys who were used to girls like this—didn’t seem to mind anything at all. That’s because suddenly all these tanned exotic butt cheeks were dashing down the aisle at exactly face height.

They were all saying very charming things, like, “
Excusez-moi
,” while working to shove their cool French leather bags in the little racks above the seats.

Sadly, when everyone sat back down, the very last row was filled up with the giggling beauty triplets. More surprising, Patrick, Cam, and Harrison were suddenly sitting French girl to Canadian boy, French girl to Canadian boy, and French girl to Canadian boy. Not even three boys to one side for
guy time
with the three French girls to the other side, how it should have been.

Laura huffs out another big breath of air and whispers, “Do you think that Chloe…do ya-think she’s keen on Patrick? I mean…really, truly and deeply
keen
?”

I keep my face straight and say what I think Laura wants to hear: “I don’t know. They’re becoming good friends. I know that. And…she’s nice. She really is.”

“Good. Being friends is where it starts, right? That’s how it works…friends to dating? I have high hopes for this week. You and Harrison…you are…really good friends, right?”

I blink, because instead of what should have popped into my mind when Laura asked that—an image of me and Harrison holding hands and
being friends
—my mind just betrayed me with this fast-frozen image of
me and Cam
snuggled up back home watching the bonfire the day we shared our second kiss. I’m turning her question over in my head like I’ve found an old penny, but I can’t seem to focus on the actual date on the coin. Instead of answering her directly, I challenge her: “You and Patrick are amazing, close, and wonderful friends. What about that? I know I’ve asked you before, but you never answer me. Why won’t you just—you know—love him back?”

She bites her lower lip. “You’re the only person who won’t think I’m crazy for saying this, because you of all people will probably be the only one who truly can understand. If I love him back how he wants me to love him back—it’s going to eventually hurt so much that I won’t be able to take it. So…he and I…he means so much to me. I want to keep Patrick forever. That’s why we’ve got to just stay friends and only friends. Do you understand me? The boyfriend-girlfriend thing never works out. You know it doesn’t.”

Her whispered last line is almost lost in the giggles and subsequent laughter coming from the back seat of the bus. When the laughter escalates, I try not to look, but I find myself staring at my two best
friends
and one boyfriend at the back of the bus.

Patrick smiles at me and shrugs as if to say this was not his seating plan, but his eyes go quickly from mine to the back of Laura’s head, as if he wishes she would turn and see the same expression.

When I catch Cam’s gaze it’s as if he’s been aware I was staring. His eyes meet mine and we share a little smile. His gaze has that half-trapped look. I know how he hates to be crowded in by people, but right now he’s more than trapped, he’s annoyed. But at whom?

I move my attention to Harrison, who has no clue that I’m looking at him—this is mostly because Charisse appears to be doing some sort of sexy-palm-reading thing for him. She’s got his hand splayed out flat so she can trace her fingers all over the lines on Harrison’s hand, while whispering so close to his face I could almost imagine them kissing.

I put my hand to my heart, wondering why it doesn’t clench, twist, or ache how it should.

Harrison’s so caught up in all that Charisse is doing and saying (and not wearing), and I can hear his flirty-voice saying, “Really, wow! Cool! Go on. What else?” Then: “No way. You’re so cool, Charisse. Really!” Finally he notices me watching and pulls his hand away, a small guilty flush creeping up his cheeks as he realizes not only that I’m watching, but that Patrick and Cam have also been watching me watch my boyfriend. My friends are suddenly sporting cage-fighter glowers that tell me they’d have to flip a coin to decide who would get to pound Harrison should any of this somehow make me cry.

*Mind spins: Friends. Boyfriends. Best friends. Ugh.*

This whole situation is so annoying, funny and frustrating that I almost laugh. I also suddenly
do
understand Laura’s speech about Patrick. I also understand more about me and Harrison. Cam, Laura and Patrick are such true, deeply connected friends that it does hurt how much I
do
love them. It also kills me to imagine losing that friendship. Only, so far…Harrison’s not the kind of boyfriend I’ve let get that close to me—not to the point where I feel vulnerable, and not to the point where he could hurt me too much.

I wonder why? Why isn’t he at that level if he and I have been going out and kissing how we’ve been kissing? Shouldn’t I feel something more? Maybe I’m holding myself back because of all that’s happened to me. I decide for the week ahead, I need to explore that. I need to try a lot harder, especially where Harrison’s concerned.

Suddenly, all my insecurities and comparisons I’d been clinging to about the French girls fades away. If I’m trying to get to the next level, I need to be open to getting hurt again, don’t I? Only, he won’t hurt me. Harrison adores me, because just yesterday he said those exact words to me.

Quickly, so Patrick and Cam won’t worry anymore and so Harrison’s off the hook, I call out, “Charisse! Come do our palms next? I love palm reading!”

“Oui, Ellen. Of course! I shall do you after I do
Camdeeen and Patriiiick.
I shall do zeee entire bus, maybe.”

“What if she already did
do-zeee
entire bus? Literally,” Laura mutters under her breath, while pretending to snuggle-sleep against my shoulder.

“Oh, you did not just say that,” I mutter back. “Charisse is so nice, and even if she did do zee-entire bus, then I say good for her. That means she’s simply in tune with her sexuality and what she wants, which is more than I can say for us.”

“What?” Laura blinks.

“You and I could take a lesson from her. It’s like you and I are trying to be nuns.”

“Hmph. I like nuns.” Laura crosses her arms and scrunches her face.

“Well, so do I, but I aim to be more like our French girls here. Starting with this week. You’ll see. I’m about to get in tune. You know? Evolve and grow up some.”

Laura pops open her eyes. “You’re going to wear extra-small clothes and drop your V-card?”

I crack up, and then blush bright red. “No!” I blush again. “I mean. I’m going to do what feels
right
a lot more and stop worrying about what other people think. I’m old enough now to do anything I want, right?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Laura wrinkles her brow and leans in to whisper, “But please remember, you only get one first time so…don’t just…” She wrinkles her brow more. “Well, I’m sure you know their bits are really odd and shocking compared to our bits? And make sure you are ready for that, because you could freak out. And just really trust the person—like, don’t have any questions in your head at all, because if you do it’s going to be just terrible, terrible regrets after. Or.” She wiggles her brows up and down. “If ya-wind-up with zero regrets, you could become like really crazy, because I’ve heard once you start…well…and…like…be…ready for that. And have protection and…yeah, really think it all through.” She nods, making her eyes go all round. “I’m just saying, because I have way more experience than you. It’s not like the movies, that’s all.” She turns all pink.