Page 14 of The Boy Who Loved Wicked
“I enjoyed today’s class,” he said.
“I guess I should thank you. Your participation seemed to have inspired the others.”
He lowered his head, his hair hiding his face from view. “See you tonight?”
We were most definitely crossing the line of what was appropriate. I knew better than to develop a friendship with a student. The scales of power were imbalanced, and with every visit I became more compromised. But then his powder blue eyes trapped me in a state of déjà vu, one that threatened to send me down a painful memory lane, and I found myself saying, “Yes.”
Chapter 4
Phoenix
“Wars and revolutions and battles are due simply and solely to the body and its desires.”
~Socrates
The following Saturday was Danny’s birthday, and at the crack of dawn, I threw on my mom’s trench coat and my red Chucks, grabbed my dad’s old radio, and blasted “In Your Eyes” by Peter Gabriel below his window.
By the end of the first chorus his window went up, and with a mussed mullet and bleary eyes he poked his head out, his yawn morphing into a slow smile. “Nowthat’show it’s done.”
I chuckled, turning down the volume, but remaining in character. “Diane, will you accompany me to a rare, one time only, matinee showing of the ultra, uber classic 1985 filmThe Goonies?”
His jaw dropped, but he pulled himself together quickly. “Yes, Lloyd, I will.” He ducked back in. Those weren’t the actual lines from the movie, but he wouldn’t care. Danny deserved all the declarations in the world.
We were in the lunchroom listening to Danny prattle on about the loss of integrity in the movie industry nowadays. “Back then actors were getting their hands dirty. Losing limbs for the scene. Now everything’s all about green screens and CGI.” He shoved his tray away, completely disgusted, but then reached for the last fry.
“You should go into motion picture making,” Theory suggested. “Become a director. Take it back to the old school,” she teased.
“That’s a brilliant idea,” I chimed in, high-fiving her.
Danny deliberated with himself before sitting forward, leaning into his forearms. “I may have no other choice.”
I slurped from my straw, beating back a smile. It took next to nothing to set a fire under Danny. Now he’d be researching cameras and angles for the foreseeable future. To Theory I asked, “What did your parents make you do yesterday? You missed Danny’s titillating lecture on Tom Cruise’s greatest hits.”
She didn’t seem convinced. “They set up a tour of The School of Medicine over in Easton. We spent the two-hour drive there and back arguing about how our goals formewere misaligned.” She gazed ahead. “You know what I think?”
“That the government replaced your real parents with clones and their mission is to convince you to go into medicine instead of journalism so that their—the government—cover-ups won’t be revealed?” Danny asked straight-faced and in one long breath.
“Close,” Theory said. “I believe my parents are projecting what they wished they would’ve done with their lives onto me.”
“Oh,” Danny said, equally straight-faced.
“Anyway.” She rolled her eyes toward me. “The Winter Formal is fast approaching. You know what that means.”
I’d almost forgotten. We were now a couple months into the school year, and Theory never allowed me to forget my promise to live in the moment. She harassed me non-stop about asking Mason Jones to the school dance. Technically, he should’ve been asking me since he was the one that showed interest in the form of “hearting” the Facebook post titled “Pheeny needs a date.” As it appeared that he was the shy one, even more so than me, I’d need to make the first move. My heart wasn’t in it, and I was afraid to dissect why.
“Earth to Pheeny,” Theory said, waving a hand.
I suggested that maybe I could chat Mason up, become cordial, maybe friends, and then leave it to him to ask me out. We still had a couple more months to go, no need to rush. She approved.
The following week, Mason idled alone at his usual corner in the cafeteria, and Danny incessantly kicked my shin under the table, jerking his head in Mason’s direction, wordlessly telling me to make my move. I’d promised to go over everyday that week, but kept putting it off, promising to do it the following day. “Fine,” I snapped, after I was sure the skin had been completely kicked from my leg.
Theory squealed and clapped just the tips of her fingers.
I dumped my trash in the bin and slid my tray into the slot on top of it. Mason had his head in a mathematics book. I looked over to my wardens, then breathed deeply and went over.
“Hi.”
He startled, slamming the textbook closed and sitting up. “Hi.”
