Page 24 of Collision
“You wanna go back in? You’re probably getting cold,” I fret.
“No.”
“Care to tell me why you’re in such a bad mood?” I venture, knowing that the answer will be a resounding…
“No.”
Of course.
“Thomas, you may not know this, but if you want to have a conversation, you may have to tell me more than just ‘no,’” I explain patiently as I would to a small child.
“Never said I wanted a conversation.”
“Okay…” I feel a little silly for hoping that he would confide in me. After all, we barely know each other. “Look, you seem tired, and I get the feeling that you don’t really want me here. So I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want.”
“If I didn’t want you here, you wouldn’t be here,” he snaps impatiently.
“All right, then.” I’m not sure what to do if he doesn’t feel like talking. I takeSense and Sensibilityout of my bag, and, taking advantage of the flickering light from a nearby streetlight, I let myself get lost in the story.
Out of the corner of my eye, I see Thomas lie down on the grass. He crosses his arms behind his head and turns his eyes to the sky.
“What are you doing?” I ask, surprised.
“I’m taking advantage of the darkness and enjoying the view. Wanna join me?”
“No,” I answer in plain disgust. “The lawn is dirty and wet.”
“So you’re squeamish as well as prickly,” he answers, mocking me.
“It’s not that, it’s just…”
“Shut up and come here,” he interrupts, taking the book from my hands. He closes it and sets it on the ground in a way that makes me wince, and then he takes my arm and pulls me down next to him. This unexpected closeness puts me on edge. My heart starts to beat faster, and my breathing speeds up. As I turn my gaze upward, I am amazedat the spectacle above us: the sky looks like a spill of ink, enclosing an infinity of bright stars. They look like innumerable tiny diamonds.
I spot constellations: Cygnus, the swan and, near it, Delphinus, the dolphin. When I was little, Dad used to take me up onto the roof of our house. All, of course, without Mom’s knowledge. It was our secret place, where we could sit and stargaze, and he always said that the brightest one was the wishing star. We would race each other to find it and make a wish.
The starry sky has never been the same since he left us.
Thomas and I stay quiet for a few minutes and settle into the stillness around us. A light breeze rustles the trees and sends the taller grass swaying. Although I am inclined to enjoy the moment, I can’t hold back a shudder at the idea that my hair is touching the grass that everyone stamps all over with their dirty feet. I try to suppress my discomfort, even though I want nothing more than to run straight into my shower at home and scrub until I’ve eliminated every last one of the microorganisms that surely must be feasting on me.
“Are you okay?” asks Thomas.
I jump.
Of course I’m okay. I’m just dealing with a very minor nervous breakdown caused by my germophobia.
“Oh, yes. I’m fine,” I hiss, crossing my arms over my chest and trying to keep calm.
“Yeah, I can see that.” He chuckles. “What’s the problem?”
“Nothing! It’s just that insects scare me a little bit and lying on the ground kind of…grosses me out,” I confess offhandedly. Thomas sits up, shaking his head. He pulls his omnipresent bandana off his wrist, unrolls it, and looks at me. “Lift your head up,” he commands, with a hint of amusement in his voice.
“What? Why?”
“Just do as I say and knock it off with all the questions. It’s annoying.”
“I can’t help it, that’s just the way I am,” I defend myself as I get into a seated position.
“Nosy?”
