Reason to Breathe (4 page)

That’s when I heard his voice again. What was
with this guy? First I didn’t notice him for almost a week, and now
I couldn’t avoid him. He exited the guys’ locker room below the
steps, talking to another guy I didn’t know about giving him a ride
to the football game the next night. I caught his eye, and he
nodded to me in recognition. Why wasn’t I invisible to him like I
was to everyone else? To my relief, he continued to jog toward the
practice fields with a small black bag in his hand. From his
attire, I realized he was heading to the guys’ soccer field. Great,
he played soccer.

The sun danced off the glints of gold in his
tousled light brown hair as he jogged further away. Lean muscles
along his back brushed against his over-worn t-shirt. Why did he
have to look like he just stepped off of an Abercrombie bag?

“Nice,” Sara exhaled looking after the same
image. I turned with a start, not realizing she was next to me.
Heat spread across my cheeks, fearing she could read my thoughts.
“Stop it - he’s hot. It’s just taken you way too long to
notice.”

Before I could defend myself, a bus pulled up
along the dirt road that circled the school, separating the fields
from the building. The open windows carried the synchronized
chanting and hollering that were indicative of a high school sports
team.

“Who are we going to beat?” several
boisterous voices screamed.

“Weslyn High!” the bus rumbled in
response.

“Don’t think so,” Sara stated. I smirked and
jogged with her to the field.

~~~~~

“Omigod!” Sara screamed, as we drove home.
“Stanford! Emma, this is so amazing!”

I couldn’t find the words to say anything.
The stunned smile on my face said it all. I was soaring from our
win, then taken to a different level when I discovered four
colleges were scouting the game in which I happened to score three
out of the four goals.

“I can’t believe they’re going to fly you out
there this spring,” she continued in a rush. “You have to take me
with you! California! Can you imagine?”

“Sara, he said that they’d be
interested
in setting up a visit, depending on next
quarter’s transcript.”

“Come on, Emma. That’s not going to change. I
don’t think you’ve received less than an ‘A’ your entire life.”

I wanted to be as confident, but then we
pulled into my driveway. I was immediately grounded – the win and
the scouts dispersing like I woke from a dream into a
nightmare.

Carol strolled up the driveway from the
mailbox, pretending to get the mail. She was up to something, and
my heart sank into my stomach. Sara glanced over at me, just as
concerned.

“Hi, Sara,” she said, completely ignoring me
as I got out of the car. “How are your parents?”

Sara smiled her dazzling smile and replied,
“They’re wonderful, Mrs. Thomas. How have you been?”

Carol sighed her exasperated, pathetic sigh.
“I’m surviving.”

“That’s good to hear,” Sara returned
politely, not falling for the
woe is me
bullshit.

“Sara, I feel terribly uncomfortable asking
you without speaking to your parents directly.” I froze in
anticipation. “But I was wondering if it would be a bother to allow
Emily to stay the night tomorrow night. George and I are going out
of town, and it would be easier if she were with someone who was
responsible. But I don’t want her interrupting your plans.” She
spoke of me as if I weren’t standing next to the car,
listening.

“I don’t think that’ll be a problem. I was
planning to go to the library to work on a paper. I’ll check with
my parents when I get home.” Sara smiled, playing along with
Carol’s façade.

“Thank you. We would be so appreciative.”

“Good night, Mrs. Thomas.” Carol waved back
as Sara drove away. She turned her attention to me in disgust.

“You have no idea how humiliating it is to
have to beg people to take you just so that your uncle and I can
spend some time together. It’s a good thing Sara pities how
pathetic you are. I have no idea how she can stand to be around
you.”

She turned and walked back to the house,
leaving me standing in the driveway. Her words circled me like
cutting barb.

There was a time when I thought she was
right. That Sara was only my friend because she felt bad for me.
Honestly, all you had to do was look at us standing next to each
other to easily conclude the same thing. Sara, in all her gorgeous
brilliance, compared to me in my ordinary plainness. But I learned
that my friendship with Sara was probably the only thing I could
really trust.

I entered the house to find life waiting for
me with the sink full of dishes and pans from dinner. I set my bags
in my room and returned to clean up. I didn’t mind the monotony of
washing the dishes, especially tonight – engrossing myself in
scrubbing to keep from smiling.

~~~~~

When I woke the next morning, I felt more
optimistic than I’d felt in a long time. I had my backpack over one
shoulder and a tote bag full of clothes in my hand.

Then reality came crashing down with a
jolting tug of my hair. “Don’t embarrass me,” seethed into my ear.
I nodded - my neck tense, resisting getting any closer to her as
she tightened her hold of my hair with her hot breath scorching my
skin. And just as quickly as it happened, she was gone – calling
sweetly to the kids to come down for breakfast.

Sara was giddy when I entered the car. She
gave me a hug and exclaimed, “I can’t believe you’re going to the
game tonight!”

I pulled back, still shaken by the threat.
“Sara, she’s probably watching. We’d better get going before she
changes her mind and locks me in the basement for the night.”

“Would she do that?” Sara appeared
concerned.

“Just drive.” Yes.
She would
, was the
answer I couldn’t say out loud.

Sara drove off. The top was up since the
brisk fall air was finally catching up with us as we headed into
October. The leaves on the trees were beginning their yearly change
to the vibrant hues of red, orange, gold and yellow. The colors
looked brighter to me today, maybe because I was actually paying
attention. Despite Carol’s threat, I was still floating from our
team’s win along with the positive comments from the Stanford
scout. And knowing I was going to the game with Sara tonight eased
a smile on my face that actually felt comfortable. This would be my
very first football game – it only took me three years.

“I’ve decided that before we go tonight, I’m
going to pamper you a little.”

I looked at her cautiously. “What are you
planning?”

“Trust me, you’ll love it!” Sara beamed.

“Okay,” I gave in. I feared my idea of being
pampered was going to be completely different than what Sara had in
mind. I preferred to hang out, watch movies and eat junk. While
that might seem very predictable and boring to most teenagers, this
was a true luxury to me. I decided not to worry about it. She knew
me, so I trusted her.

“I’m going to ask him out tonight after the
game,” Sara declared while we walked to the school from the parking
lot.

“How are you going to do it?” I was finally
able to ask after tunneling through Sara’s entourage and their
gleeful morning acknowledgements. I couldn’t believe how matter of
fact she was about putting herself out there. But then again, who
would say no to her? “No” didn’t seem to be in Sara’s vocabulary,
whether it was receiving it, or saying it.

“I was thinking, but only if it’s okay with
you,” she gave me an apprehensive glance, “that after the game we
would go to Scott Kirkland’s party, and I’ll ask Jason to meet me
there.”

A party?! I’d never been to a party before
either. I overheard the gossip about them in the halls and locker
room and even saw the mementos hanging in the lockers throughout
the junior and senior halls. It was a rite of passage I wasn’t
privy to and wasn’t sure I was ready for. A wave of panic surged
through me just thinking about walking through the doors and having
everyone stare at me.

Then I looked into Sara’s anxious blue eyes
and knew this was important to her. I could make meaningless small
talk with people I’d been in school with for the past four years,
yet knew nothing about. This would definitely be interesting.

“That sounds great,” I said, forcing a smile,
falling in line with all the others unable to disappoint Sara.

“Really? We don’t have to go to the party. I
could figure something else out. You looked pale when I mentioned
it.”

“No, I want to go,” I lied.

“Perfect!” Sara exclaimed, hugging me again.
She was very affectionate today; it was throwing me off. I think
she realized it too because she pulled back. “Sorry, I’m just so
excited that you’re going with me. I don’t think I could go through
with it if you weren’t there. Besides, we hardly ever get out of
school time together, so this is going to be the best.”

I smiled awkwardly, my stomach still twisting
with thoughts of the party. It was for Sara. I could get through
it. What was the worst that could happen? Well… people might
actually try to talk to me. My stomach turned again just thinking
about it. This was going to be terrible. I swallowed hard.

More than ever, I needed to retreat to Art
class to recover from panicked thoughts of the party. Art was the
rotating class that moved through my schedule. Today it took the
place of English, as my first class - thankfully. I was desperate
to escape in my work.

I walked into the open space of the Art room,
inhaling the calming scents of paints, glue and cleaning chemicals
with a gentle smile. It was inviting and warm with its tall yellow
walls covered with art projects and the oversized windows that
glowed with natural light. I breathed easier in this room. No
matter how my day was going or what I left behind at home, I gained
control over it in here.

Ms. Mier greeted us as we sat at our stools
at the tall black work tables. Ms. Mier was the sweetest, kindest
person I’d ever met. Compassion exuded from her, which made her an
amazing artist and an inspirational teacher.

She invited us to continue working on our
assignments from last class, replicating a picture with movement we
tore from a magazine. There was some murmuring, but it was fairly
quiet as the attention was primarily focused on the art. The quiet
was another reason I loved this class so much.

My heart skipped a beat – amongst the
murmurs, one stood out. I didn’t want to look but was drawn to the
smooth voice. There he was, standing at the front of the class,
talking to Ms. Mier while holding a camera. She flipped through a
book of what appeared to be photographs, making comments. He
glanced up and grinned when he saw me. I shot my eyes back to my
canvas. I wished I really were invisible.

“So I guess you
are
pretty good,” Evan
said from beside me. I looked up from my canvas. My heart was
behaving insanely, beating at a pace that didn’t coincide with
sitting still. Calm down – what was wrong with me? He continued
when I could only stare up at him blankly. “Soccer. That was quite
the game yesterday.”

“Oh, thanks. Are you in this class too?” I
felt the heat rise in my cheeks.

“Sort of,” he responded. “I asked to switch
to this class if I could work on photography projects instead. Ms.
Mier agreed, so here I am.”

“Oh,” was all I could mutter. He grinned,
which sent more color to my face. My body was betraying me –
between my hyperactive heart and my fiery face, I had no control.
It was not like me, and it was driving me crazy.

To my relief, Ms. Mier interrupted us before
the possession could completely humiliate me. “So you know Emma
Thomas? That’s wonderful.”

“We met yesterday,” Evan replied, glancing at
me with a smile.

“I’m happy to see that you’ve made some
connections. Emma, would you mind showing Evan the photo lab
supplies and the dark room?” My heart went from being on speed, to
a dead stop, but my face kept beaming red. It must have been
radiating heat by now.

“Sure,” I said quickly.

“Thank you.” Ms. Mier smiled in appreciation.
Why was she, of all people, torturing me?

Without looking at Evan, I stood and walked
to the back corner of the room. I slid open one of the cabinets
that hung above the counter.

“This is the cabinet with all of the photo
supplies. There’s paper, developer, whatever you need.” I slid the
door shut, with my back to him.

On the counter below I pointed to the paper
cutter and sizing equipment. We crossed the room to the dark room,
where I explained the developing light and the switch on the inside
wall to turn it on.

“Do you mind if we look inside?” he
asked.

I stopped breathing for a few seconds.
“Sure,” I replied, glancing at him for the first time.

We walked into the small rectangular room. In
the center was a long metal table lined with trays for developing
pictures. There was a sink in the back right corner. Cabinets lined
the long wall on the right and to the left were two rows of wires
with black clips for drying the developed pictures. Even though the
developing light wasn’t on, the space seemed unnaturally dark – not
a place I wanted to be alone with Evan Mathews.

“Here it is,” I declared, holding my palms up
to present the room.

Evan walked past me toward the cabinets and
started opening them, examining their contents. “Why don’t you talk
to anyone besides Sara?” I heard him ask from behind the cabinet
door. He closed the door, anticipating my answer.

I remained frozen. “What do you mean?” I shot
back, sounding defensive again.

“You don’t talk to anyone,” he stated. “Why
not?”

I didn’t answer. I didn’t know how to
answer.

“Okay,” he recognized my stalling. “Why don’t
you talk to me?”