Chapter 8: Expectation 

I woke up.

Light leaked through a narrow space between the curtains. I focused my eyes on the digital clock on the desk. It displayed a large red seven with a twenty on the side. I groaned. I wasn't supposed to get up this early on a Saturday. I needed more sleep. And I loved to sleep in on weekends. It was the only time of the week when I didn't have to wake up startled by a hideous, earsplitting alarm.

Ruidoso was messing up my morning rituals-and dreams. What was that waterfall about? And the orb? My dreams were getting more confusing. I looked down at my hands. That sharp tingling sensation was inside them again. What was the matter with me? First the nightmare, then Tristan, and then...this?

Ugh. Well, now that I was awake, I'd better start with all the heavy work I had ahead. Things did happen for a reason. A lot of boxes were waiting to be opened and my hands were the ones in charge of that operation.

Sooner than expected, the whole weekend flew away and the unpacking mission ended successfully. The huge tomb of mutilated trees that was my house didn't look like a warehouse anymore, and the best thing had been the distraction. My mind had been too busy to think of him.

But now anxiety fluttered in my stomach just to think I would see him today at school. Will he ignore me? Expectation rumbled inside of me.

"How was your weekend?" Valerie asked me as we walked down the crowded hallway. Green flyers were pinned on the white walls-something about supporting the Warriors.

"It was...entertaining." I decided to keep Tristan's episode to myself.

"Entertaining? You should've seen the movie we saw on Friday night," Owen said. "There was action, blood, lungs everywhere-and this dude..." Owen kept prattling as I looked at Valerie for an immediate rescue. She rolled her eyes and shrugged, as if telling me she couldn't do anything about it. So we just walked along with Owen, pretending we were listening until we reached the cafeteria. "-and the bad dude wasn't really the-"

"Owen!" Valerie called, cutting his prattle. "Time to eat?"

He turned and looked at the annoyed woman who was waiting for him to order. "Oh, yeah. Sorry. I want, uh, three cheeseburgers, fries, coleslaw, a coke-oh, and a peanut butter brownie. No, make that two." Nothing strange for a football player, I guess. He needed to fill that reservoir of his to have enough energy for all the running and blocking thing.

Tristan wasn't in the cafeteria-again. It seemed he didn't like to eat here, which made me wonder if his dad was a great cook, too. Dean wasn't at his table either. At least, I told myself, I'll be eating relaxed. I didn't want unpleasant glares from Chloe during lunch.

I took a mouthful of coleslaw, listening to Owen's babbling in the background, when a chair scraped across from me. I drew up my head and saw Dean holding his food tray. "Hey," he smiled. "Do you mind if I sit here?"

"No, it's fine," I lied.

The girls aside were chattering pretty close to each other and eyeballing at me. Others were staring dreamy-eyed at Dean. Ugh,more enemies to my pocket for sure. I looked away, trying to ignore them, and spotted two gray eyes staring at me from a table located in the opposite corner of the room.

I choked and turned back my head to its former position.

"Are you okay?" Dean asked, looking at me through narrow eyes.

"I...yeah...yeah, I'm fine," I stuttered, my heart racing. All this time waiting to see Tristan and he catches me off guard. Did he do this all the time?

"She spaces out a lot," Owen said.

I glared at him.

"Spacing out isn't bad." Dean said, shooting a disapproving look at Owen.

I looked at Dean with a grateful smile and felt my face reddening. I hated this stupid blushing. It put me in the spotlight. I felt like a two year old instead of a seventeen year old.

But even with this embarrassing shade in my face, even if I looked like a bright red tomato, I wanted to look back at Tristan.

Don't ask me why.

"Hey, how are football practices going?" I asked. Not that I cared, but it was the perfect bait to sidetrack them.

"Great-even if Smith has some problems on passes," Owen said.

They bit the bait. Their conversation took off and became far too exciting for them to notice me. I turned my head carefully and looked back at Tristan.

He was eating with two guys. One of them was the same guy I'd seen him with on Friday, with shortish hair and a very cool Mohawk. The other one was sporting a sleek pony tail at the nape of his neck. Both of them had striking features-dark glossy hair, narrow eyes the color of dry leaves in autumn, olive skin. They looked like brothers, and they were both really good looking. Worthy of a fashion magazine-and worthy of Tristan's company. They certainly looked good together.

But I wondered...a guy like Tristan could be surrounded by more people-more girls to be exact. And he wasn't. It was so odd to see a person so good looking being so aloof. It went against the entire "hot guy code"-you know, getting laid with as many girls as possible, making them fall in love, then trashing them, walking around like the king of the world, stuff like that. Or maybe it was part of his magnetism, of his game. He was an enigma, and everybody loved a good riddle.

The sudden shape of a girl sitting across Tristan's table blocked my view. I moved my head trying to regain it, but her head snapped in again, as if she wanted to stop me from looking at him. That was when I recognized the copper blond hair veiling Tristan. Chloe. She was scowling at me, burning me with her arctic blue eyes. I looked away, feeling awkward, and veered my head back to my table. Unpleasant things always found the wrong moments to come along. Perfect timing, I would say. She absolutely loathed me.

Crap. I was sick of this female-hating thing, sick. I always kept to myself and never stood in the way of others. Wasn't that enough? And what could I do? I couldn't tell Dean not to sit here. It would be too rude. Besides, he was just a friend. If she thought I was a threat to her, then she was wrong. Completely wrong. I wasn't a freaking threat to anybody.

"Hey, is there something wrong?" Dean asked me suddenly.

"Yes," I retorted.

Everybody stared at me, surprised and confused at my sharp attitude, wondering what was wrong with me.

At least I was asking myself the same question.

Seeming to not want to enter shaky grounds, everybody let it pass and headed to their classrooms in silence at the end of the break. My embarrassment and guilt never faded away, though. It pounded through me so powerfully I couldn't even speak to Valerie and Owen. I knew I didn't have a reason to talk to Dean like that, but I hadn't done it on purpose. It'd just come out without even asking for permission. And now, for not keeping my emotions under control, I had to talk to Dean and ask him to forgive me. And there was nothing more uncomfortable and awkward than doing that.

"Valerie? Owen?" I said once we stepped outside the classroom at the end of the day. They stopped walking and looked at me. "I'm...I don't know what happened. I'm usually not like that. It's just that Chloe was glaring at me like she was about to jump up and break into a catfight and, I don't know, it made me feel uncomfortable." I continued in a rush. "Besides, Dean sees me as a friend. She doesn't need to shoot ice balls at me like that."

They looked at each other, as if having a private conversation with their eyes.

"What?" I asked, confused.

"Nothing. Just don't give yourself too much pain. Anyone would've reacted like that," Valerie said.

"Not me." Owen sneered.

Valerie poked him on the arm.

"Ouch! She knows I'm joking!" He slid away from her. "You know, one day the police are going to knock on your door with a restraining order or something."

"Why is that?" she asked.

"For all the bruises you're giving me, woman."

She rolled her eyes. I chuckled, I couldn't help myself. "Of all the bruises you can have, mine are certainly the most harmful."

Owen ignored her. "Well...anyway...you're forgiven City Girl."

"Thanks for the mercy." I smiled.

Students were slamming their lockers and rushing through the hallway. Like them, I couldn't wait to get home and be done for the day. But unlike them, I was far from being done. I still had to talk to Dean.

Getting outside wasn't so appealing anymore.

"I think somebody is waiting for you," Valerie said in a singsong tone when we stopped at the top of the stairs.

I spun and saw Dean crossing the lawn toward me, his face troubled. "We'll leave you alone." She lowered her voice. "See you tomorrow."

"See you, City Girl!" Owen called out, and then whispered in my ear, "Good luck."

They waved goodbye to Dean on their way.

How did I end up in this situation? I could feel a big knot in my throat now. Dean stopped at the foot of the stairs and looked up at me, hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. "I need to talk to you. Do you have time?" he asked.

"Sure, I still need to wait for my dad." I said, smiling nervously.

"Good." He said, dropping his head. "I just want to know if...if I'm bothering you or something, because if I do-" He pulled up his head again to look at me, "-Just tell me and I'll back down."

"Dean," I said, stepping down the stairs to face him. "You're great. I'm really sorry I snapped at you like that. I feel terrible because of it, and you must think I'm a hideous person but-"

"You're wrong," he interrupted. "I don't think you're hideous at all."

"You don't? Because you should, I mean, I have no excuse. But I'm not like that. I don't know what happened. I just...the thing is that..."

"Tell me," he said, stepping closer.

Telling him wasn't the problem. His reaction was. I didn't want him to be mad at Chloe and make things worse. She was just in love with him, and it was normal to react like that, I suppose.

"Well, it's just that..." Thumping sounds stopped me. I looked up and the words clogged my throat. Chloe was pounding down the stairs and glowering at me. As always, perfect timing.

"Bye Dean!" she screeched, passing by me with her head high and swaying her hips like a temptress. One of her sways bumped against me and I staggered a little.

"You were saying?" Dean said, ignoring her.

"Um...she's your ex, right?" I whispered, steadying myself as I gulped nervously.

"Yeah, but don't mind her."

I wasn't so sure about that.

He smiled, as if he'd read my face. "Look, I think I know where this is going. You don't need to worry about her. I can see you're the type of person who worries about other's feelings, and it's nice, yeah, but you can't walk in life worrying all the time about others. It gets to a point where you don't enjoy your life anymore, don't you think?"

It kind of made sense. "I guess."

"Good. So...we're still on for the weekend?"

"Which day exactly?"

"Saturday."

At least I would have Sunday free. And this wasn't a date. "Okay."

"Cool," he said, smiling. "I can't wait." He turned and I watched him walk away as he disappeared into a cluster of cars. An orange beam caught my eye amid the sea of metal and my heart leaped. I spotted Tristan's speedy-wheel-machine between a huge black truck and a blue SUV (the most popular car around here). I couldn't see him, though. He was definitely in school, but not outside. None of his friends were around either.

Feeling reassured, I sat down on the neatly-cropped grass and fished out As you like it from my tote. But I never got to read any pages.