Page 11 of Soul So Dark
I lock onto her eyes and hold them, but after a few moments, the gaze is too much and she looks away.
The electronic ding of the bell sounds and I see people start to rise from their tables through the narrow window in the door. Lunch is over and I still haven’t eaten, but for some reason I don’t really care anymore. Dallas notices the movement in the cafeteria and pushes off the stairs, picking up her bag from the floor. I follow, suddenly dreading the thought of heading back to English and discussingRomeo and Juliet.
I know Shakespeare is supposed to be the pinnacle of literature or whatever, but no one speaks that jacked up, antiquated version of English anymore. Romeo could be telling his girl to choke on his dick and you’d never know it.
Dallas starts wiping her eyes with her thumb as she prepares to exit the stairwell.
“Come here,” I say, motioning for her.
She takes an apprehensive step toward me as I pull the hem of my shirt up until there’s enough slack and cover my thumb with the edge.
“Look up,” I command. When she does, I begin gently wiping my shirt across the underside of her eye to clean off the remnants of her mascara. “I almost didn’t recognize you. You’re not wearing glasses.”
“I got contacts at the beginning of the year.”
“You also never wear makeup,” I add.
“Yes, I do,” she exhales with exasperation, still looking up, “you just don’t pay attention.”
“Apparently not,” I reply and release her face, “because it’s on point.”
“It’s called YouTube,” she retorts, but then her face softens, “and Evie taught me.”
“It looks nice,” I say quickly, not wanting to make her cry again after I finally got her to something that vaguely resembles happiness.
The cafeteria is almost empty, so I wait for the stragglers to clear out before motioning for Dallas to follow me through the doors. Her legs are so much shorter than mine that I have to slow down halfway across the room so she can catch up. Her head is bowed slightly, hiding the remaining flush on her cheeks. I raise my arm and wrap it around her shoulders as she reaches my side, to which she glances up with surprise.
“What class do you have?” I ask as we step into the hallway.
“Um, U.S. History?” She says it like it’s a question, still shocked that I’m touching her.
But she can deal with it. This is what people do when they comfort each other, isn’t it? At least that’s what my family does; everyone yells and cries and then starts hugging each other and refuses to let go.
“Wheeler?” I confirm, sauntering down the hallway as I decide the best route back to her classroom.
“Yeah,” she replies, her shoulders finally relaxing as we approach the stairwell at the end of the hall.
Good, if she’s a couple minutes late it’s unlikely that he’ll care or even notice. I’m sure he’s too busy critiquing the basketball team’s latest game and strategizing plays with whichever players happen to be in her class. It’s all but confirmed when we arrive at the door, a dull roar emitting from the room while two freshmen in Dire Ridge sweats hover around Wheeler’s desk.
“Feel better?” I ask. “And by better, I mean good enough to make it through the rest of class?”
Dallas looks down at the tile with a nod. “It’s fine.”
“Hey,” I lean down and tap the bottom of her chin until she looks up at me, “everything doesn’t have to be fine, only good enough so that people leave you alone when you want them to.”
“Colson said I should lean into being a prick,” she mutters.
“You?” I ask, stifling a laugh.
This makes Dallas smile again. “A few days ago he said I was too nice and I should be more of a prick to get people to do what I want.”
Like him, huh?
“Do you want to be a prick like Col?”
Her smile gets wider and she averts her eyes. “No,” she finally says, shaking her head, “you don’t have to be mean for people to do what you want.”
“Well, you might not be a prick, but you definitely aren’t all nice.”
