Just a Step - Part One

Moving distracted through the corridors of the Saint Jeremy, with the earphones well hooked in the ears and the Pearl Jam to keep me company, I send yet another message to Charlie, hoping he won't answer like he's been doing for two days now.

Monday started lazily and on with wrong foot, so, while a few flakes of snow fall outside the school windows, I wonder why he is so cold towards me.

Maybe he talked to Jace.

They will be confronted on the question, they will have agreed that my "having seen" Seth was a sort of low blow to our friendship, considering the situation.

Thinking well, now, probably this is the only explanation I can give myself.

For what reason, then? I've always met one or the other, quitting all of a sudden would be ridiculous.

I puff, letting me fall on one of the benches abandoned in the corridor - too crowded and busy listening to the futile chatter of dozens of female students telling each others of their phantasmagorical weekend, probably passed into the arms of yet another model or aspiring manager, to take an interest in my moodiness.

I raise my head towards the vaulted ceiling, letting my eyes follow the outline of the joints that join together forming a timid x. Is it possible that in less than a couple of months my social life has revolutionized up to this point? On the one hand I have that masterpiece of Seth who, strangely - and no one knows yet how -, has his eyes on me for the grace of some deity I prayed over the last... well, since ever to say the true, on the other hand I have my brother and my best friend who don't seem at all favorable to see me in the arms of a guy like him. How can I blame them, then?

And I find myself in the middle, fought like the worst protagonist of a love story, like Bella for the first hundred pages of New Moon. The only difference is that Catherine would haunt me day and night if I dared to skip even half a day of school or get on a motorcycle - also because without a license I wouldn't go very far.

A new snort spills out of my lips.

Couldn't I be born apathetic? I would have saved myself a good part of all these mental rants, as well as an incalculable amount of thoughts and words. I would have given myself to many other pastimes than drooling behind Morgenstern or wearing down on how bad I am, as a sister.

Then, as my rise to self-pity begins to take shape, something distracts me, moving away from the question.

Out of the corner of my eye I see a shadow perch next to me on the bench and a buzz starts to annoy Eddy Vedder's voice.

But who would ever want to stand next to the bewildered last year girl? Who would ever challenge Misha's veto to stay as far away as possible from me?

I turn slightly and, unexpectedly, I find a blonde and amaranth bob intent on fussing while the mouth moves - in some moments to chew a sandwich, in others to babble something.

"Caroline?"

Pressing the stop button on the earphones I paused Off he Goes, trying to figure out if she is really talking to me or if she is simply mad - which is likely, given her willingness to make friends with me. The speech she is making, which suddenly reaches my eardrums clearly, has a logical sense and it is undeniable that it is turning to the undersigned.

«... really, I don't understand! But what do they eat for breakfast? Milk and acid?» She finally blurts, gulping down the last piece of bread.

No, in fact even I can not understand, since almost all the first part of her monologue is obscure to me.

I frown, more and more confused.

Caro turns around, now smiling - maybe she suffers from bipolarity, a bit like Seth: «How about you?» she asks me before swallowing the bite.

The feeling of disorientation becomes strong, it becomes more annoying every second, and all because of the fact that when someone has the urgency to speak does not even notice the momentary condition of deafness of the interlocutor - in my case, due to two headphones which, in their iridescent white, stand out clearly on the blue uniform.

I blinked my eyelids again and again, swallowing.

«Do you really want to have a conversation with me?» I finally ask, casting some doubtful glances around. What if it's a joke? If behind her desire to talk there were some absurd evil plan devised by Misha? It wouldn't surprise me. They are now years of seeking revenge and every excuse is good, every pretext valid.

The girl next to me nods, even if the confusion that is assailing her is visible: «Well, if the walls knew how to talk I would try to have a chat with them, but I doubt they are able to... in spite of this, I am sure they would be nicer than certain women registered here!» her eyebrows rise, disappearing for a few moments under her bangs. The dark eyes rotate in their sockets, finally returning to me.

How to blame her?

So I sigh, giving myself the luxury of venting some thoughts with what appears to be the kindest person in these four walls.

«Disgusting, is that an answer?» I pull a corner of my mouth, trying to smile.

She does the same, pulling a snack from the pocket of her pleated skirt: «If is for this terrible place, no».

This time I miss a half laugh, more than circumstance than for real fun: «I stopped depressing myself about what happens in this school years ago!» Everything that the Saint Jeremy brought me, in the time frame I did frequented it, it was boriness. Lessons, activities, companions: everything in here has deprived me of the joy of living these last few months before graduation - the only thing that keeps me anchored to the chair of my desk, besides Catherine's will, is the art course , where the photographs I find myself taking take some sort of value.

«Does it involves anyone you care about?»

"Bingo."

«Three handsome boys who behave like children!» I confess, half closing my eyes. I'm tired, that's the truth. Tired of all these thoughts and paranoia, of having to measure every step I take in one or the other direction. I would like to allow myself the faculty of not having to give explanations to either one or the other, but I realize it is impossible.

If Seth and Jace had not quarreled, Charlie would not have got in the way and, perhaps, I would not be here now to rack my thoughts in this way, but rather to schedule a first date with the bad boy of my dreams.

Caro slams her long doll-like eyelashes: «Oh man, even three?» Her tone is good to understand that she is thinking the worst of me, a detail that at the moment I would like to avoid, especially in view of the fact that this girl could really become the thing more similar to a friend I ever had; so I hasten to explain.

Armed with a telephone between my fingers, the dark screen waves before her eyes: «My best friend answers me in monosyllables, even if I don't know why,» I lower the electronic device: «while my brother and his best friend, the boy for whom I have a crush, do not speak each others»I finally admit with a snort. It is strange to say these things aloud, to confess what afflicts me to someone who is not my reflection in the mirror when I get up in the morning, or grandmother Josephine, or... to be honest there is no one else to add to this list.

On the other hand, however, it is liberating, I feel my head less compressed by thoughts.

The girl beside me gloats, makes a mischievous little smile that I have no idea what it means: «These bad boys, they always know how to ruin our good mood! But do you know how heart problems are fought?» she asks, waving the chocolate snack as if it is a magic wand.

I, in response - as if I am not already weirded enough -, wrinkled my eyebrows, giving her a way to continue.

«Dressing up well, going out with a friend and smothering the problems between music and alcohol» she says, biting the bar.

«It's the worst advice I've ever heard,» I laugh, imagining that her philosophy was born after watching any episode of Sex and the City: «but I love live music, I like to drink and I have nothing to do Thursday night» I confess finally, reaching a hand out in her direction.

Caroline grabs it, while the smile on her face grows big: «What a coincidence, there are two of us! You think of the place, me of the rest» and, at the exact moment when she gets up from the bench, the bell reminds us of having too many hours of torture to face in the halls of the Saint Jeremy.

I watch her jump away, while her bob waves a few inches over her shoulders. A strange sensation fills my insides, somewhere between warmth and satisfaction.

I just agreed to take part in an outing with... friends, and it's the most unusual thing I've ever done.

****************

Thursday evening: a day so anonymous to give oneself up to drinking and wild dancing, to choirs in the background of cover bands and high heels, yet for the first time it seems to me not to be so wrong to anticipate twenty-four hours what I usually find myself doing in the weekends.Caroline settles her low-cut blouse, which in my opinion is too light for the cold of January, then gives me a smile, excited to finally arrive at her destination.

I chose a pub that, since I became part of my brother's clique - and he has come of age - has become a meeting place for scouting and social life evenings. Benton has elected it to the best venue to enjoy quality indie-rock, paired with beers from the most diverse corners of Europe and, after some time, I could only agree with him.

The Elder and the Moon, a name that seems to have come out of some Tolkien novels, but which is actually the result of the unbridled passion of its owner for fantasy-themed role-playing games, is a place that smells of wood and hops to evening, and hot coffee in the morning - yes, because the few times I decided not to take part in school activities I took refuge here, crouching beside Charlie.

The girl next to me stares at the tips of her shoes, then gives me a doubtful look: «Have I exaggerated?» she asks, perhaps realizing that a stiletto is not the most suitable shoe for the designated location.

I smile sadly, nodding. It is useless to try to tell her a lie, the last times I tried it did not lead to good results and if I have the chance to make a friend of mine I would like not to waste it.

We remain suspended for a few moments between inside and outside, waiting for the little traffic jam that has formed at the entrance to disappear, then we enter and, in doing so, it is inevitable that I hold my breath - if she don't change her mind I can now decree this friendiship as official.

Thus, at the precise moment when the soles of my shoes touch the uneven parquet of The Elder and the Moon, a sudden satisfaction comes over me, together with the air full of hops, fried and various perfumes - including that of sweat of waiters whirling from one table to the next.

Involuntarily I find myself shaking Caroline's hand, though busy observing the environment around her in amazement; her look studies every beam and every framed photo hanging on the walls, evaluates the quantity of people present and the layout of the room, then, after a few minutes of total isolation, she turns in my direction, smiling.

Her face, illuminated by perfectly white teeth, seems to say in large letters that she likes the place, that for our first only-women-evening it is the perfect location - and it cheers me up. I had foreseen the worst during the journey on the subway that led us here, creating decadent sand castles in which to make my most optimistic expectations come true, knowing that sooner or later the tide would give them the coup de grace, but apparently it didn't happen that way.

Between one giggle and the next, a silly comment and the next joke, we approach large strides towards the counter, where a man with long red curls and faun beard juggles between an order and a chat with customers. Tribal tattoos flicker on his pale arms, showing the continuous movement of his muscles. If alcohol had already got the better of me, I could almost say that, at times, all the animals on his skin come to life, turning their owner into an abstract creature.

Suddenly the man turns towards the entrance, perhaps to scrutinize how many people are gathering in his room to watch the show and, at the exact moment when he does, his gaze falls on me.

It takes a few moments to focus, but then his expression opens into a joyful smile: «Is Miss Raven on the horizon?» quickly wiping his hands on the apron, he stretches out on the wooden floor in front of him. He takes me by the hands, dragging me close and then, with the same warmth of an old friend, kisses my cheek.

Although his nerd passions make him a rather unlikely subject, Adrian was a classmate of Jace for a long time and this made them friends - then the high school got in the way and their paths took different directions.

«It seems like a century has passed since you last visit!»

And how can you blame him? With all the commotion caused by the squabbling of the two most important boys of my microcosm, going out was the last of my thoughts.

I smile sadly at him, trying to avoid the real reason for my absence. I know that if I had to dwell too much on the matter I would end up depressing myself and ruining the evening not only for me, but also for Caro.

«What do you want me to say?» I shrug my shoulders in a theatrical gesture, pretending not to care about anything: «This last year of school is imprisoning me between home and classes!»

He snorts: «Look, I don't envy you for anything! But it lacks little, grit your teeth a few more months» he looks around cautiously, then goes even closer: «In the meantime, I keep the bottle of champagne cool!» and his complicit wink tears even the girl next to me a laugh.

Adrian, at this point, returns with the bust over the counter, letting us sit right in front of his post, then, fiddling with bottle openers and mugs, he serves us two blonde beers without any command.

«I offer you the first ride» he whispers to us, so that none of the customers can grasp his favoritism towards us. It is obvious that he would like to stop and joke, but the work calls him and, just like when we entered, he goes back to filling goblets, glasses and mugs, giving directions to the dining room staff of all kinds.

Caroline raises her beer, staring at me: «Shall we toast?» she asks me, waving her bicolor bob at the sides of the face.

«At what?»

«I would say to this girly date» she points out to me with an expression that makes it clear how obvious the answer was - and then I raise my drink in turn, causing the glass of the two jugs to clash.

Yes, I believe that destiny has really wanted to give me a gift, given the mess in which it has driven me!