Hoodie (8 page)

“You never know,” she said, smacking his arm as he laughed at her.

She was right. The old loaves of bread were overpriced, but she paid for one anyway and walked with him back down to the water’s edge, dropping her bag and binder on the blanket as they went. The ducks could sense the food, swimming hurriedly to the edge of the lake then waddling as quickly as they could towards her. There were more ducks than usual, she noticed, huddling around them and quacking demands. The ones closest to Emma and Anton poked them impatiently with their bills. Emma could sense Anton’s growing unease. He couldn’t possibly be afraid of ducks, she thought. Grinning, she tossed the loaf to him, and he instinctively ran.

The ducks chased him down the lake’s edge as he tore off pieces of the loaf and threw them behind him. She noted the expression on his face when he turned back to see if they were still at his heels. He looked like a cartoon character, she thought laughing aloud, his eyes wide with fright, arms flailing as he hoofed it down the bank.

For awhile he was out of sight until she saw him running back, still followed by a few ducks that had gotten none of the bread. He tossed the remainder of the loaf to Emma and hid behind her. He listened as she scolded the ducks for being mean then gave them the last of the loaf. When they discovered that Emma and Anton had nothing else for them, they waddled back to the water and continued their lazy swim.

“You did that on purpose,” Anton said, still breathing heavily from his run.

“I would never do such a thing,” she said affecting shock at his accusation.

“You knew exactly what you was doin’,” he went on. “I can’t even believe how scared I was over them ducks.”

Emma laughed heartily then screamed when Anton picked her up and cradled her like a baby. She smelled the mixture of light perspiration and cologne on him, and she liked it.

“You think you funny,” he said making his way down to the edge of the lake.

“Oh my God, don’t!” she squealed, clinging to his shoulders.

He ignored her. “But how funny you think it’d be if I tossed you in that water?”

“Anton, don’t you dare,” she warned. She couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well, I think it’s only fair. You had those ferocious ducks chasing me. Now you need to go in the water,” he said, feeling her squeeze him hard and bury her face in his shoulder.

He would never throw her in. He could not bear to feel her leave him. He wanted her arms around him forever, her face nuzzled into his neck for eternity. No, he would not throw her in. But he would tease her. He walked closer until he was inches away from the water.

“How ‘bout just a little?” he asked. “I won’t put you in all the way.”

He tossed her lightly and she screamed.

“We could call it even then?” he went on feeling her clutch at him in desperation.

He began lowering her towards the water.

“Stop!” she cried in between laughter. “I’m begging!”

“Well, if I don’t put you in this water then we ain’t even. What am I supposed to do with you?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said frantically. “I’ll think of something.”

He grinned at her and turned back to their blanket. He could have set her on her feet then, but he wanted to prolong the ecstasy of holding her, so he carried her back to the blanket before setting her down gently. It was difficult for him to let go of her not knowing when he would be able to touch her next. He only did it when the opportunity presented itself. It was never forced. He would never touch her without feeling like it was safe.

Anton sat down beside her and watched her reopen her notebook. He willed himself to get focused, but all he could think about was the feel of her tiny arms around his neck, squeezing him until he was sure he would have to kiss her. They resumed their work, and he affected interest in it though his mind was very far away.

CHAPTER 5

TUESDAY, APRIL 20

“I cannot believe you have to work with him,” Morgan said, scowling as she watched Anton change out books in his locker. “He’s such a thug.”

“He’s not a thug, Morgan,” Emma replied amused.

She checked her face in the mirror attached to the inside of her locker door, and deciding she needed a touch up, dug out lip gloss from inside her purse. She glided the applicator gently over her lips, pressed them together then studied herself again.

“Oh my God. He’s watching you,” Morgan observed.

Emma looked in Anton’s direction, and he quickly turned his face away when their eyes met.

“No he wasn’t,” she said. Her heart gave a small jolt.

“Yes he was. I’m so grossed out right now,” Morgan replied.

Emma watched Anton joke with his friends. There were four of them. He said something and they laughed, one of them smacking him in the back of his head. He retaliated with a light punch to the arm. She watched them walk down the hallway, turning the corner until they were out of sight.

“Are you listening to me?” Morgan asked.

“Yeah. You said you have to go to the dentist this afternoon,” Emma said. She grinned at her best friend.

“No, actually I didn’t say that at all,” Morgan replied. “Listen to me, Emma!”

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry,” Emma said, closing her locker and falling in step with Morgan as they walked down the corridor.

“What am I gonna do about Brian?” Morgan asked. “He’s starting to act all jealous about me, like he doesn’t want me going anywhere without him.”

“You want my honest opinion?” Emma asked. She didn’t wait for a reply. “I think he’s a loser.”

“Hey! That’s my boyfriend you’re talking about!”

“Morgan, you said yourself he was a loser,” Emma pointed out.

“Well, I know,” she said thoughtfully. “God, he’s such a freakin’ loser.”

Emma chuckled. “You know, we all just put up with him because we love you.”

“What, Aubrey and Sarah think he’s a loser, too?” Morgan asked.

“Um, yeah,” Emma said bewildered. How could she not know that? “Listen, you’re so pretty and smart and funny. Why are you with him?”

“I don’t know,” Morgan said shrugging. “Because he’s there?”

Emma laughed as they made their way into history class, the only other class she shared with Anton. She was careful to avoid looking at him. He shared this class with two of his friends, and while in the past she had never given any of them a single thought, she now felt slightly nervous being in a room with them. She had even decided to avoid speaking up in class so as not to draw attention to herself or give his friends reason to snicker at her. The laughter that ensued after her confrontation with Anton a few days back was still fresh in her mind.

She walked past them and heard one of them ask teasingly, “How yo’ project goin’, Anton?”

“It’s fine,” Anton replied. He knew she could hear them.

“She bein’ nice to you?” the other asked.

“Man, everything fine. She fine,” Anton said. He shifted nervously in his seat at the back of the class.

“You makin’ her do all the work? Shit, I’d make her do all the work. She so fuckin’ smart and all.”

“Will you shut up, man?” Anton said.

His friends moved on to another topic of conversation as he watched Emma take her seat on the opposite side of the classroom. She was engaged in a conversation with her friend, and Anton realized that her friend was really the uptight bitch. He caught her giving him dirty looks on occasion in the hallway between classes, and he tried to understand that it was her way of being protective of her friend. Still, it pissed him off thinking of all the things she was saying to Emma about him—feeding her mind with hateful prejudices. He scowled watching her play with her long blonde hair while she listened to Emma talk. How could Emma be friends with her, he wondered?

The bell finally rang, and he settled himself for a fifty minute mind-numbing lecture on U.S. law. He stole glances in Emma’s direction, watching her take notes. She was always so diligent in class. He was amazed by her fervor. She acted like she genuinely cared about school. He only worked as hard as he had to. He knew what grades he needed to get into a community college. He realized he’d have to start there and not at a four-year university. He screwed up those chances in ninth grade. Once he recognized that he needed to get his act together, it was too late. But he figured that there was nothing wrong with community college. He knew a lot of other students starting there before going off to a big university.

He caught sight of Emma looking his way. She smiled at him, and he didn’t know what to do. He turned away, sensing that her face fell with disappointment. Why didn’t he just smile back? He couldn’t risk his friends seeing. They’d want to know why he was smiling at her, if he liked her, and then they would give him unimaginable hell over it. No, he was right to look away. If she got her feelings hurt over that, then she was way too sensitive, he thought.

The bell rang. Another fifty minutes of his life wasted. He wondered how high school could be so unimportant, how four years of his life could be so dull and inconsequential. He felt like he was in a prison and was sure many other students felt the same, shuffling like zombies from one room to the other at the sound of a bell. What the hell was that?

Emma brushed by him on her way out of the room. She did not look at him, and he was certain she was mad. Over a smile, he thought, and chuckled. He followed her lazily down the hallway to his locker. His friends had disappeared leaving him alone to stare at her all he wanted unnoticed, unbothered. Her friend wasn’t with her, and he plucked up the courage to go and talk to her. It was safe, he thought.

He approached her locker as she was shutting it.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hi,” she answered, aloof.

“When you wanna get together again?” he asked.

“I don’t know. I’m kind of busy this week,” she replied.

“You mad at me about somethin’?” Better to just confront it, he thought.

“Why would I be mad at you?” she replied.

“I don’t know.”

He hated when girls did that. And they were so good at doing that—affecting indifference when they were really pissed off. Why didn’t they just say what they felt? It would make life for men so much easier.

They stared at one another. She seemed to be making up her mind about something.

“I guess we can meet somewhere tomorrow after school,” she said finally.

So she was going to let it go, he thought relieved.

“You wanna come over to my house?” Anton asked.

“What? So you can get a ride home?” She grinned at him.

“Well, that too,” he admitted. “You don’t know what it’s like riding that bus home. It’s awful.”

“You’re right. I wouldn’t know. I’ve never ridden a bus to school,” she said.

“Imagine that,” he said sarcastically, and she playfully punched his arm.

“You’re such a butthead,” she said.

Anton laughed hard.

“What?” she asked grinning.

“Nothin’. I don’t know. You the first person ever call me a butthead,” he said still chuckling.

“I’m sure I won’t be the last,” she offered.

He looked down at her and smiled. His friends were right. She
was
scrappy. A scrappy munchkin, he thought. She didn’t know what went through his mind as he looked at her, but she knew that she liked him looking at her that way.