“Promise?”
“Promise.”
It turns out that some promises cannot be kept, no matter how hard you try. I had every intention of keeping Alex at a distance because Charlie, who couldnʼt bear to see me hurt, asked me to. Really, I did.
What I had not considered when making that promise was Alex himself. Mrs. Sole loved the article so much she decided to make it a weekly feature. That meant Alex and I were spending more and more time together. At first, it was just the after school library sessions to work on the articles, but it didnʼt take long for the gulf that existed between us at school to close up. Soon, Alex was chatting with me before Calc and sitting with Talley and me in Shakespeare. Some days we would even find him milling around the library at lunch.
It was a rainy November afternoon when were at the library working on our homework for Mr. Beckʼs class. The topic of that weekʼs article had been changing the legal drinking age to eighteen. Just for fun, I took pro and Alex argued the con. We had enough material on tape in five minutes.
“So, I have a Calculus related question,” Alex announced.
I stopped beating my forehead with the eraser of my pencil and looked at him to indicate that he should proceed.
“Have you ever noticed that John Davis smells funny?” Well, I supposed that since he sat between us in that class it was somewhat Calculus related. “The aroma du Play-Doh that he emits is overwhelming. You would have to be missing a nose not to notice.”
“Play-Doh!” It was as if a cartoon light bulb went off over his head. “I knew that it was a familiar smell, but I just couldnʼt place it.” Alex stared off into space and started clicking his pen. “But why does he smell like Play-Doh?”
“I donʼt know,” I said, leaning towards him as though we were discussing something horribly important, like global warming or brown sugar cinnamon Pop-Tarts superiority over the iced strawberry variety. “I have sat behind him for thirteen years and he has always smelled like Play-Doh. Do you think he rubs it behind his ears like cologne?”
“Maybe he eats it,” Alex speculated. “There was this kid I went to Kindergarten with that was always eating random things -- crayons, glue, pocket lint.”
“That is so gross.”
“Hey, I was five. I didnʼt know any better.”
“I thought we were talking about some kid you went to Kindergarten with.” Alex shifted awkwardly in his seat and ran his fingers through his hair. I was momentarily distracted by the sight of his tongue on his lips. “I meant to say that he was only five and that he didnʼt know any better. Not me. I wasnʼt some crazy lint eater.”
“So, what does pocket lint taste like?”
Alex narrowed his eyes. “Scout, Iʼve got lots of homework to get done. I wish you would quit distracting me.”
I made a big display of zipping my lips and punching some numbers into my calculator. He did the same, but our quiet time didnʼt last long. I found that studying with Alex was almost impossible since the more I talked to him, the more I wanted to talk to him. Mrs. Sole was right, we played really well off of one another. It was as if the cadences of our personalities were as similar as our writing styles. I lied to myself, saying that I was just enjoying his friendship, until one day in Shakespeare I had to admit how bad my little crush had become.
We were prepping for a run through of The Taming of the Shrew. I had been assigned the role of Katherina and Alex was playing Petruchio. I was channelling my inner Julia Stiles when Ashley slid up between Alex and me.
“Hey, Alex,” she said with her pink, glossy bottom lip gutting out like a pouting child. “You havenʼt called me lately. Where have you been?”
Alex smiled apologetically. “Sorry, Iʼve been really busy with work and school and stuff.” I felt as though something rather large and misshapen, like a professional wrestler, had taken up residence in my stomach. A quick fantasy flashed through my mind of delivering a right hook to Ashleyʼs stupid, goat-like face.
“Well, if you get a free night sometime soon, we should make plans.” She leaned her whole body against him to whisper in his ear. Judging by the blush that crept up his neck and onto his face, it had something to do with exactly what those plans would entail.
Alex coughed nervously. “O-o-okay. So, Iʼll...ummm...talk to you later.”
“I look forward to it,” she cooed. She was practically caressing him with her breasts. I couldnʼt decide if I would rather puke or beat her to death with my shoe.
Alex stepped back and almost tripped over a wooden sword. “Yeah. Okay...so, yeah. Later.”
“Well, Iʼll let you guys get back to practicing then.” She turned her attention to me, her expression condescending. “Scout as the Shrew. I guess Ms. Ryder is a big fan of typecasting.”
I was glad I was wearing a pair of tennis shoes. She would die much too quickly and not suffer nearly enough if I were to beat her with my boots.
“Her boobs are fake, you know,” I said after she was gone. “She also wet the bed until the seventh grade and wore a robe to school every day for three weeks when we were ten because she thought middle school would be just like Hogwarts.” Alex just stood there and stared at me as if I had grown a second head.
“Sorry,” I said. “I know you guys are dating or whatever. I was being rude.” For some reason, Alex was smiling. He was probably laughing at my idiotic behavior. I would be if I were him.
“Iʼm not dating Ashley Johnson.”
“Youʼre not?” What was he talking about? Of course he was dating Ashley. Or maybe they didnʼt do “dating” in Montana.
“Nope. Sheʼs not my type.” He was in full-on dimple mode. His eyes were even doing that sparkly dancing thing.
“But you took her to Homecoming.”
“I just did that to try and make someone else jealous.” He liked someone else. Great. My mind started going through the possibilities. Molly Eastwick is pretty, and I had seen Alex talking to her a couple of times in the hallway. Jase recently broke up with Nikki Anderson, who looks like an MTV backup dancer. Every male in a five county radius was trying to be the rebound guy. I shuddered at the thought of how Alex dating Jaseʼs ex would play out.
“Did it work?” What I was really asking was if he was dating someone else already, because nothing feels quite so good as pouring salt in an open wound.
“I didnʼt think so at first, but it looks like I might have been wrong.” It was not until the blush returned to his cheeks I even considered hoping that he was talking about me.