The Girl in My Dreams (2 page)

“Why is she crying?” I asked myself under my breath.

I watched her with furrowed eyebrows and considered trying to get her attention. She hadn’t noticed me yet, since her overhead light was on and her blinds were drawn, though I guess they’d been like that for years and she’d never once waved or said hi.

Just as I was about to look away and check my buzzing phone, it happened. She looked out her window, her eyes locking with mine. I felt my stomach knot up with butterflies and nerves as I tried not to vomit. I tried to look away, as if I wasn’t watching her and we just accidentally saw each other, but who was I kidding? Even when she was crying, she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.

She waved, though not in the friendly “how are you” kind of way. It was a limp wave, the tips of her fingers slightly curled, as if she were defeated and was waving her white flag for help. I waved back, curling the left side of my mouth up in some half-done smile. She mouthed something to me—something I didn’t understand, though I desperately wanted to. I put my finger to my ear, shaking my head, and she went up to the window and pointed the swing set that sat between our houses. She made a five with her hand and pointed back at it, as if asking me if I’d meet her there in five minutes. She couldn’t really be asking that, could she? Why would she? We hadn’t interacted, much less talked, in years.

Without an ounce of hesitation, though, I obliged. Was this real life? Was this really happening?

My mother was asleep on the couch with the television illuminating the room as I snuck out the back door toward the swing set, where Annabelle was already waiting. She sat on a swing, the rusted connection above squeaking with each move. The cold and dewy nighttime air reminded me of autumn nights we spent out here catching the last stragglers of firefly season.

“Hi,” she said, the chipper tone of her old voice gone.

“Hey,” I sat down on the swing next to her.

“It’s been a long time,” she said.

“Yeah, it has,” I replied, wiping my suddenly sweaty palms on my pants.

We both swung slowly, not knowing exactly what to say after our long absence of interaction, though part of me could tell that we both were glad it was ending.

“I’m sorry about your parents. My mom told me about the divorce,” she said.

“It’s fine. It’s nothing,” I said.

“You don’t have to act like it’s nothing. It’s something serious,” she said.

“Not to me,” I replied, as my once-nervous manner betrayed a small bit of annoyance that I couldn’t escape the topic.

“You know I’m always here for you, right? Like if you want to talk or something. I’m here,” she said.

“Thank you,” I said. “If you don’t mind me asking, though, why were you crying?”

“Just . . . problems. You wouldn’t understand. I don’t want to burden you with it,” she replied.

“I might understand if you tell me. Besides, you’ve never been a burden to me. Far from it, actually,” I said.

“Just problems with Trent, my boyfriend. He’s been kind of an ass lately, and sometimes I wonder if he’s purposefully doing things to hurt me,” she said.

“What kinds of things?” I asked, equal parts wanting to help her and satisfy my obvious curiosity.

“Flirting with girls, going out with
friends
who are girls who he swears nothing happens with, and just things like that. He’s also been really rude lately, like putting me down and stuff. It’s nothing,” she said. She sounded as if she regretted saying anything.

“You can do better,” I said.

“Yeah, right,” she said, scoffing at the notion.

“I’m serious, Belle. He’s the last guy you should be dating. You could do so much better,” I said.

“Yeah? Like who?” she asked, as our eyes locked and our swings swung at the same speed.

I clenched a fist, it definitely turning white underneath the shroud of darkness. I wanted to blurt out that she could do better with me. I’d loved this girl since I was three, and wanted to marry her since I was five, and I couldn’t think of anybody better for her than me. I wouldn’t treat her like Trent would, and I’d be everything she needed. Was she just waiting for me to say my name? Did she want me to confess it all to her? I knew she was vulnerable right now, with her current relationship up in flames, and even though my fist was starting to become numb, I couldn’t get myself to say my name. Not only because of my crippling fear, but because it wasn’t right. She wasn’t right, at least in the right state of mind for something like this. She was a little broken, and I couldn’t take advantage of that. If she picked me, if she wanted to be with me one day, it should be because of the person I was, and not because of what another person was doing to her. I—
we
, deserved more.

“I don’t know, but I’m sure he’s out there,” I said, knowing I’d be kicking myself for years to come.

“Maybe he is. Trent and I are now on a break, if you want to call it that. It’s more like a breakup, but I’m not sure if it will stick. They never do,” she said.

“Hopefully,” I mumbled, before going silent.

A dog barked in the distance as the constant chirping of crickets all around us kept our sudden silence from being too unbearable.

“Yeah, I hope so. We should do this again sometime,” she said.

“I’d like that. I don’t think I have your number anymore,” I said, even though I knew I never had it to begin with.

“Here,” she said, with a small smile, before motioning for my phone. She typed in her number and saved it before giving the phone back to me.

“Thank you for being exactly what I needed tonight, Theo. You always knew the right things to say,” she said before standing up and reaching down to give me a hug.

Closing my eyes, I breathed in her lavender-scented shampoo before she let go, leaving me teetering on the edge of the swing. Maybe my creepiness looking out the window wasn’t such a bad move after all.

•••

Time never seemed to go slow enough between classes anymore. Here I was, a senior in high school, and you’d think I was a frazzled, timid freshman from the way I rushed to my locker and to my next class. I feared nothing more than being late and getting in trouble. Seniors were supposed to rule the halls, to slow down and take their time to socialize as they took their final year with a grain of salt, but I was unfortunate to not be one of those kinds of students.

I’d spent the better half of the rest of my night talking to Martin about what happened with Belle on the swings. He didn’t know her, beyond seeing her at school, and he was definitely the only person in the world who knew about my undying love for her. It was a secret I knew he could keep it.

I had seen Belle pull out of her driveway this morning on her way to school, but we hadn’t texted or talked or had any interaction aside from last night. Hell, I wasn’t even sure any of it had ever even happened. Maybe I just dreamed it all up.

With my books gripped tightly between my arm and my side, I hurried to class, dodging a stampede of freshmen with rolling backpacks before having to contort myself through traffic to pass the stoner kids, who all walked slowly in a large group. There was a couple making out outside of my classroom like they did every single morning, as if their lips couldn’t bear to part for a single period. I sometimes wondered what that was like.

I sped into the classroom, which was only about a third of the way full—no Annabelle yet—as my teacher, Mr. Jamison, was writing equations on the board. I was in Calculus, the bane of my existence, and as I sat down next to Martin, catching my breath, he couldn’t help but blurt it out.

“Did you talk to her yet?”

“No, not yet. It hasn’t even been twenty-four hours,” I said.

“You have to act if you’re going to get with her, Theo. Do you think girls like that just wait? They don’t. Have you ever seen a documentary about animals mating? Tons of guys are going to be flaunting their brightly colored feathers and dancing around her so she’ll be with them. You need to flash your feathers even brighter,” he said.

“That’s not my goal, though. I’m not trying to get in her pants like they are. I’m not trying to use her for my own gain,” I said.

I pulled a worksheet from my notebook and in the process knocked my pen off the edge of my desk. It rolled a few desks forward, and when I bent over to pick it up, I noticed a pair of shoes near my hand. I stood up, and she was there, smiling at me, her hands gripping her books as they rested against her thighs.

“Hi,” she said in a flowery tone.

As if we were in an anime, I saw rainbows and flowers appear all around her as the sun hit her just right and her hair, which was long and flowing, fluttered in the gentle breeze.

“Hey,” I said, shaking my head a little and pulling myself back into reality.

“Please take your seats,” Mr. Jamison said.

With a lump in my throat, I walked back to my seat as Trent and two of his football buddies came into the room laughing and slapping one another’s chests.

How they were in this class I’d never know. I guess the school and football team were in serious need for these guys, so they put them in here and gave them passing grades even though we all knew they couldn’t do first-grade math, let alone Algebra II.

“Please take your seats, gentlemen,” Mr. Jamison said.

Trent walked over to his seat near Annabelle and bent to give her a quick kiss.

She looked taken aback, as if she couldn’t believe what just happened. I couldn’t believe what just happened either. Martin couldn’t believe what just happened. They were supposed to be on a break, so why was he doing this? Mr. Jamison asked us to turn to some page in the textbook, but I couldn’t be bothered with that right now. I was fuming, my fists clenching. Belle quietly took out her phone and typed something out. Was she going to text me something? I guess she didn’t even have my number, at least not that I knew, and before I knew it she’d hit send and put it away. Oh, how I wished I knew what she’d sent out.

“Mr. Quinn,” Mr. Jamison said, catching my attention.

“Y-yes, Mr. Jamison?” I asked, my voice cracking.

“I asked if you knew the answer to question thirty on the study exam. Would you please come up to the board and work out the problem?” he said.

Nervously, I got up from my seat before walking down the aisle and taking the marker from his hand. I stood there, my face a foot from the white board, as my palms began to get sweaty and my knees began to shake. I knew the answer to this—math was my strongest subject—yet for some reason, I just couldn’t get myself to think. It was as if my mind had been sucked out of my head and I was left with an empty skull with an acorn rattling around inside.

“You may begin at any time,” Mr. Jamison said.

A few people chuckled behind me as I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. I didn’t know public humiliation was still a valid form of punishment in this age. Why not stone me as well? It might be less painful.

I started to work out the problem to the best of my ability, though I suppose my best wasn’t quite good enough. I got about halfway through before I hit a brick wall.

“I’m afraid I don’t know any more,” I said to Mr. Jamison.

“Take a seat, Theo. Does anybody else want to come and finish it?”

I set down the marker as Julia, the smartest girl in the class, possibly even the school, got up to work on my equation.

“What an idiot,” Trent said as I walked by him.

“Shut up, Trent,” Annabelle said, slapping him.

“Yeah, Trent, don’t make fun of her boyfriend,” another kid said with a laugh.

I sat down, my cheeks becoming warm as I wished this would all be over with. I wished high school would be over with.

•••

There was a tap on my shoulder as I collected my things from my locker at the end of the day. I turned to see Annabelle standing there, crowds of people walking around us.

“I’m sorry for earlier. I wanted to say something, but you left before I had the chance,” she said.

“Nothing for you to be sorry about. You didn’t do anything,” I said, wrapping the straps of my backpack around my shoulders.

“I know, but I felt I should say something. He can be like that sometimes. I think it’s one of the reasons things have gone so bad between us lately. Sometimes I just don’t think that I can deal with it,” she said.

“Don’t ever feel like you have to. You can do better, you know. What were you even planning to do after high school is over? Aren’t you two going to different colleges?” I asked.

“Yeah, he’s going to Duke to play football. I was thinking of the University of Illinois in Chicago. It’s a good campus, and I’d be in the city finally. No more country roads and getting lost in cornfields,” she said with a smile.

“That sounds awesome, and also the reason why you should try for better,” I said as I closed my locker.

“Do you need a lift home?” she asked, almost out of the blue.

“I was going to take the bus,” I said.

“I can take you. If you want that, that is. I understand if you’d rather not,” she said.

All I could think of in this moment, this most perfect moment, was Martin inside my head, his deep voice telling me to go with her. He’d say I was an idiot for not taking the invitation, and that this could be my chance to get closer to her. Besides, she was asking
me
, and that was cause enough to go.

“Yeah, I’ll come with, if it’s not a burden or anything,” I said.

“Theo, we live literally live right next door to each other. It’s not a burden. Come on,” she said, grabbing my jacket sleeve and pulling me along.

The sea of students around us seemed to part as Annabelle guided me toward the parking lot. I’d rarely ever been there, since I didn’t have a car or a friend to drive me home. Martin’s mom usually picked him up, and I couldn’t say I had many other friends besides him.

Annabelle drove a 2006 Toyota Corolla, and when she started the car, bubblegum pop music blared from its speakers. She quickly turned it down and then pulled into the line of cars.

“Are you hungry?” she asked, just before it was our turn at the stop sign.