Outside the time, page 4
"If you aren't comfortable in them, why wear them?" he asked, still eyeing me skeptically.
"Because California gets hot, so wearing jeans all the time really doesn't seem overly comfortable." I shrugged, the excuse sounded really dumb once I said it out loud.
"Ah, I see. I guess you haven't heard the latest craze that's sweeping the nation."
"The Snuggie?" I asked dryly.
"Well, there's that, but no, there's this super cool technologically advanced clothing revolution known as shorts." He hopped off the wall and stuck one of his hairy legs out to demonstrate the tan cargo shorts he was wearing. "They have all the convenience of being short, like a skirt, but none of the wind blowing up your butt and showing your girly, or boyish, delicates to the whole world. Yes, you, too, can own your very own pair of shorts by giving a simple amount of cash or credit to the man or woman behind the counter. But act now. Supplies are limited!"
I rolled in laughter at his infomercial tone. He returned to his seat and munched on a couple more gummy bears.
"Thank you," I squeaked like a mouse. His eyebrows arched upwards as he eyed me skeptically.
"For what?" he asked.
"Um… talking to me, letting me sit with you, I don't know," I replied shyly. Kicking my feet against the wall, I tucked my hands under my thighs, once again avoiding his gaze.
"It's not like you gave me much of a choice standing there looking all pitiful and whatever," he joked. "I have a thing for helpless stray animals. So what is your next class?"
"Um…" I started and turned to pull my schedule out of the side pocket to my bag.
Before I had a chance to fully unfold it he ripped it from my hand and proceeded to read it. As the bell rang, signaling the end of lunch, he hopped of the wall to gather his things before handing my schedule back to me. He waved at me to follow him.
There weren't many times in my life when I felt an instant connection with a person. There was just something about Mike. We headed to the very back of the upper campus, the last row of classrooms before the hills.
"Mike, glad to see you back in my class," a woman wearing a rainbow smock, feathers in her hair, covered in splotches of paint, greeted him.
"Hey, Mrs. McKinley, this is Paula. She's new to school," he replied as he moved to one of the easels.
"You must be Paulina Ecl then. I never forget a student's face and yours isn't one I know." Mrs. McKinley smiled. She was an older lady, with light brown hair with a mixture of gray and dried paint strands mixed in. "So what's your preferred medium?"
"Um, charcoal mostly, some pastels. I've never really worked on an easel before though. It's all small scale in a sketch pad."
"I'm open to all mediums. As long as you at least try some of the other mediums as we study them, then I'll allow you to stick with what you are most comfortable with. But I need to see an honest-to-goodness effort that you're trying out the rest." She handed me a syllabus with another smile, before turning to greet another student. Without another word I moved to the easel next to Mike. He had already grabbed a blank canvas and set it up for me.
"You could have warned me we had art together," I muttered. He laughed softly as he opened and unpacked a two-tray art tote. "Where did that come from?"
"Mrs. McKinley let me leave it here since I took a summer course," he explained. "She's the best. You're lucky that you got her and not Mr. Doper. I think the last time he was sober was sometime before he hit puberty."
I hadn't expected to do any drawing on the first day, and I felt like a moron for not having any of my normal drawing materials. Mike let me use a stick of his charcoal and one of his smudge rags. Since there were no actual subjects or models, we were allowed to draw anything that came to our heads. At first, I couldn't think of anything, so I watched Mike work. His skill mesmerized me.
With short, graceful strokes, he quickly globbed paint onto his canvas and swirled it around, covering the once white canvas completely before he began fleshing out the object of his scene. Slowly I began to make out the details of a wolf howling at the moon. He glanced at me out of the corner of his eye. I quickly turned my gaze to my blank canvas. I was busted again.
"Do something," he whispered.
I didn't know why I was so frozen. I had drawn millions of times over the years and had been in some form of art class since the first grade. But nothing was coming to me. Mrs. McKinley stopped at my easel as she was making her rounds through the class.
"It's okay to be nervous on the first day. Just take the charcoal in your hand and hold it to the canvas. Close your eyes and draw the first thing you see." She patted me gently on the shoulder before moving on.
Doing as she instructed, I worked across the canvas and ended up drawing the same unicorn I almost always seemed to draw when I had no other inspiration. I had no idea why I had a drawing obsession with unicorns or why they were almost always the same.
Their faces stared at whoever was viewing the work of art, and their eyes almost appeared to follow you when you moved. Most of them would be drawn in black charcoal, and I would take my colored chalk to add subtle hints of rainbow color to the horn and eyes, as well as bring some dimension to the hair.
All things considered, my first day went great. Better then great. I hadn't expected to make a friend on my first day. Xavier was waiting for me when I reached the office to unlock my bike. He grinned when he saw me walking up with Mike in tow. I wasn't quite sure if it was the fact I was with a boy, or with someone in general, that impressed him.
Jez had already bolted. It was so like her not to bother waiting to make sure her siblings were able to get home safely. Mike walked with us toward our house. He lived in the same basic direction but a couple of blocks further north.
Our house was just before the corner that Mike turned to head toward his house. I continued to stare at him as he waved goodbye and disappeared behind the side of my house. His loud whistles were still echoing in the air as I turned to head inside.
I twisted in place while grinning like a fool. There was something about Mike. Something I couldn't quite put my finger on, but I liked how comfortable I felt around him.
A tiny screech escaped my lips as I felt something tug at my leg. I jumped onto the first step leading up to our porch. Looking back to where I was just standing, all I saw was a thin veil of fog sweeping in from the street.
"You're losing it, Paula," I muttered as I rubbed my eyes. "Talking animals, and now you think fog is attacking you. Get a grip!"
When I reached the door to my house I turned back. The fog had vanished. There was no evidence it had even been there. I shook my head, thinking I was really going bonkers, and stepped inside.
Chapter 3 – You are burning me
There were few things in life that gave me true joy. I am not talking about the joy you get from the satisfaction of finishing a good book or passing a test, but more like the joy of waking up on Christmas morning when you see presents under the tree waiting to be ripped open by eager hands. My joys were as follows:
One: Chocolate. I loved chocolate. In fact if I had to think up the perfect death for myself it would be to drown in a vat of chocolate. Yes, it would be sad knowing I was going to die, but dammit, I would die happy!
Two: The feeling I got when my hand came in contact with a stick of charcoal and I heard it brush against my sketch pad. Words really can't do the tingling sensation I felt justice. I could lose myself in my art for hours. Probably the only thing I enjoyed more than art was writing or watching movies.
On the second day of school I discovered a third joy. One that I knew probably existed but I had never gotten to experience before, so it was all speculation up to that point.
What joy is that, you ask? Well, I'm happy you asked and more than happy to share it.
It was the reaction Jez had when she saw the "totally hot bodacious babe" (she had gone California native on us in a very short time) hanging out by our fence, kicking around a hacky sack. Naturally she assumed this hunky god among teenagers was waiting for her, and admittedly I assumed so, too, before I had even seen who it was. So rather than peer out the window at this elusive god, I continued to shovel cereal into my mouth and mock her with my eyes.
She had bounded out of the kitchen faster than a tornado ripping through an unfortunate city. Rushing to her room, she quickly changed her clothes for the umpteenth time before grabbing her bag and tearing out the door. Honestly, I thought Mom would have a conniption over Jez leaving her unfinished breakfast on the table, and she probably would have if she'd had a Moment to figure out what was going on.
Xavier said that we didn't want to miss the unveiling, so he urged us to grab our things and follow her outside. I still hadn't had a chance to see who was waiting, but Xavier seemed confident it would be worth it. As we made our way to the street, I saw it was Mike who was the cause of all the commotion.
Jez had already reached him, and he had no idea who she was. Better yet, he passed her by to greet Xavier and myself. Oh yes, pure and utterly unimaginable joy. If I could have I would have happily danced in the streets.
Lavender, one shoulder mesh top: $58.00
Victoria's Secret full-bodied push-up bra: $45.00
Knee High Ugg Boots: $240.00
Seeing your sister ignored by a guy she thought was hot: Priceless
It's true. There are some things money just can't buy!
You might be thinking it was very juvenile of me to add that to my list of pure joys. But if you had known how many times a guy pretended to talk to me just so they could get to my sister, you'd be applauding Mike for even the briefest of moment of shunning Jez. To say my sister irritated me, or that I was jealous of her looks, would be an understatement.
The rest of that first week Jez walked with us to school everyday and waited for us afterwards. She kept that up for a good month before she decided Mike was gay and gave up. Of course, he would have to be gay to not be interested in her. It couldn't possibly be because he just wasn't interested in an attention whore/slut who lost her virginity by the time she was twelve, nope not at all.
For our family project, Ms. Fitzpatrick had passed around a bowl with various careers in it. She asked us to pick one. The papers had our salaries on them, and we were supposed to come up with a family budget, buy a house and essentially live the lives we had drawn out. Mike had chosen a firefighter making about sixty thousand dollars a year, and I got to be a self-employed accountant pulling in about fifty thousand. So neither of our jobs was top of the line, but we wouldn't be struggling like some of our classmates.
As much as I didn't like having to take sex education a second time, it was nice that sex was actually only a small portion of the class. We would get into it more when the babies were due to be "born". Otherwise, it was more about handling finances and learning what life as an adult was like, as well as maintaining a healthy diet.
"Okay so we can afford a bigger one bedroom house or go a little smaller, square footage wise, to get more rooms," Mike said as he lay flat on his belly in the middle of my bedroom floor, swinging his feet in the air.
He was looking through the photocopy packet of fake homes for us to "buy" for class. It took me almost a month but I had finally gotten my entire room unpacked enough to feel comfortable having him in it. Despite the fact I had really taken to California, I still hated unpacking. I was lying on my bed staring at the poster of jumping dolphins I had tacked to my ceiling, listening to him mumble about the houses.
"Well, if I knew we were going to be one of the lucky couples to not pick out a kid, then I would say go small. But practicality says we should plan for a baby and get more rooms while we can," I said.
"Agreed. Not sure if throughout the year we will get promotions or be given another opportunity to buy a new house or if this is it. I'm sure Ms. Fitzpatrick doesn't want us thinking about that but…"
"Why not?" I interrupted and rolled over so that my head peered over the side of the bed. My hair hung down around my face like Cousin It from the Adams Family, so I had to dash it out of my eyes. It was one of the few times I decided to keep it down. "Most adults don't know if they'll get the promotions either, or be able to buy another house, so it really isn't so different. And I think a lot of newlyweds prepare for a baby while they can- if they plan on trying for a baby that is. So isn't this a part of the process?"
Mike huffed at me as he pulled a bag of gummy bears closer to him. I couldn't help but let out a tlittle laugh as he plucked a handful into his mouth.
"Do you ever eat anything other than gummy bears?"
He turned his head toward me, chewing off the head of one as he replied: "I'll be having spaghetti with your family tonight so I guess you'll soon find out." He grinned at me. "So, honey, do you want to come down here and pick out our dream home with me. I'm thinking white picket fence with a flower trim."
He playfully tapped the empty floor next to him and made kissy faces at me.
"Anybody ever tell you you're an ass?" I asked as I slid off the bed to lie down next to him.
"Only every time my brother Sam comes home from college," he quipped. Getting Mike to talk about his family for an extended period of time was like pulling a tooth at a dentist. It was a long and painful process, and he had to be very numb and relaxed before it could begin.
Most of the time I was thrown just a single bone, and then he would quickly change the subject. All I really knew was that they moved around a lot. He was born in London and spent most of his first school years moving around Europe, which explained the hint of a muddled accent. They had moved to California about two years earlier. It was the longest time he'd spent in one place, outside of the first five years in London.
His brother Samuel was four years older and he had a little sister Angelica who was five years younger. I had no clue what his parents did, but my assumption was that one of them had to be in the military for them to have to move so much. Either that or it was a witness protection thing, but that seemed unlikely.
Whenever we had to work together he always said we would go to my place. Not once did he ever offer to take me to his house. I wasn't really sure how to feel about that. Sometimes, I admit, I felt a little resentful, like he was trying to hide me or ashamed to introduce me to his family. I tried to shoot those ideas out of my head as much as possible. Overthinking things, thy name is teenage girl.
"Mom told me to tell you and your boyfriend dinner is ready." Jez snarled from my door, interrupting our conversation. Her venomous glare bored through me like a blowtorch through ice.
Mom would allow Mike in my room without parental supervision but only if the door remained open at all times. Before either of us had a chance to explain we weren't dating she was out the door, spinning quickly on both heels. As odd as it felt, I was enjoying her being jealous of me for a change.
"Huh, interesting." Mike said as he pulled to his knees.
"What?"
"I thought she thought I was gay, and now she thinks I'm your boyfriend?"
"It's probably both." I laughed as I stood up. He stayed on his knees with one eyebrow raised waiting for me to explain. "You're gay, but you don't know it yet, and I'm going to be the one to make you realize how fabulously gay you are."
His eyes lit up with excitement as he thought about it. I admit, it really made me uncomfortable when he seemed to get excited about the idea of me being the girl who made a guy realize he wasn't into girls. Truthfully, I had no idea how Mike felt one way or another. We didn't exactly spend our time talking about girls or boys. Ever.
Mike bounced off his knees, and skipped over the piles of books and papers we had spread out all over my floor. Neither of us were the neatest of teenagers when working on our homework. I was a slob in general and had to quickly clean up my room when I saw Mike walking up our driveway. The last thing I needed him to see were my bras and underwear hanging all over my furniture.
Most of the time it ended up just being slammed into my closet. At least I was smart enough to keep it from being an avalanche waiting to explode on me whenever I opened the door.
"Well, Ms. Ecl, shall we depart before Mommy Dearest has a coronary?" Mike bowed slightly and motioned for me to head out the door.
I snorted. I hadn't meant to snort but I did. It caused Mike to arch yet another single eyebrow in my direction before busting his gut laughing. I hid my face in embarrassment.
"You know I just realized something." I said once I regained control over myself.
"You're actually a robot bent on world domination?" he responded.
"Unfortunately, no. That would be cool, though. It dawned on me when you said my last name that I don't know yours." And I didn't. If any of the teachers had used his last name during roll call I had completely tuned it out. Which really wasn't uncommon for me in school. I tuned out a lot of things. He moved to stand next to me, grinning like a mad man.
"Sure you do." He flicked my nose. I flinched, not expecting the flick.
"Um, I do?"
"Yup. Mike Ewah." He pronounced his last name as eh-wah. My gasp sent him into another fit of laughter.
"Wait so you..."
"Yup, I constantly write my first and last name as one name. Like I said, Mommy always said I was special." He laughed. "Mikeua Ewah at your service. Mikeua Riley Ewah to be precise."
Curiosity got the better of me. While I had learned not to push it when it came to matters of Mike, there were times when it would pounce on me, lock me in a choke hold, and never let go until I blurted out whatever question was tap dancing in my brain. Every time I did I had to hold my breath waiting for his reaction. He'd never snap at me or anything like that. He'd just change the subject or tell me he didn't want to talk about it.
"Why on earth would you do something like that?" The question came out much harsher then I had wanted it to. It almost sounded irritated, though I wasn't irritated. It would be stupid to get irritated at something quirky like that. Thankfully, Mike still laughed at me. When he finally gained control of himself, wiping a tear from his eyes, he winked at me.
