1 What They Mean --Ch1--

If you were to see the hustling heap of bags and books tripping down the high school hallways and, subsequently, recognized the small person buried beneath as me, Elizabeth Baker, you would be doing far better than any of my peers.

Long since had the overseeing adults turned a blind eye to my eccentric patterns and my fellow students had done the same. It had been three years in high school and it was impossible for them to not see the loud statement the I made, even if I was quiet. Even so, it seemed that I was easy to ignore.

Classmates used to assume hushed tones and side glances when I would walk down the halls and then they would take all of the pretense of not noticing me. It was said that I was seeking attention; they used to wonder aloud what was wrong with me and what I was trying to prove. Teachers had stopped marveling at why I needed so many bags to carry my books or why I needed so many supplies at all; a traveling caravan of wonders, they'd say, always prepared and always a surprise. I was met with tongues so deep in their cheeks that it was a wonder they could talk at all.

It was the last day of school, my junior year. I corralled my belongings together, hoisting straps over my shoulders and collecting books in my arms, walking out of the building to my car at the end of the day with a precarious some odd thirty pounds of supplies. My sketchbook was tucked almost under my armpit, battered and tearing at the seams. Perhaps in middle school, when I was unpracticed, I might have assumed a clumsy waddle, but now I was nimble and balanced and could easily dart between my glacial paced peers. As I weaved in and out the babble of people turned into individual conversations; people were ramping up for break, discussing relationships that were forming and breaking in anticipation of separation, assignments that had helped students pass by the skin of their teeth.

As I walked, a group behind me kept giggling like overgrown school boys, muttering things about someone 'doing it.' I walked faster, disgusted. The sound, though faint, moved in the same direction.

The chortling boys kept up with me and seemed, even, to be growing louder. I looked over my shoulder at a group of three or four boys fifteen feet behind me. I was surprised that I heard heard them so distinctly. Then, I realized…

One of them was Calvin.

Calvin Kim.

My stomach grew knotted and queasy.

I was right by my car, struggling to find my keys in my purse, desperately wanting to get in the car before Calvin came by.

"Hey." A conversation popped up beside me, particularly audible.

I didn't hear anything else.

My fingers traced something metal in my purse and I dug just... a bit… deeper…

"Hey, Elizabeth."

No one ever talked to me. No one who talked to me actually knew my name.

It was the same voice as before.

I turned to my left to see Calvin directly addressing me. Tall, with a quirky smile and bleached hair and a skateboard under one arm.

"Hi." My hand slipped out of my purse, keys forsaken.

"I had a question for you."

A tall kid behind him snorted behind a loose fist. I turned my attention back to Calvin, just his face, avoiding everything else.

"Mhm?" the less I said, the less I could say wrong.

"Are you seeing anyone right now?"

My cheeks heated up. I didn't get it. Obviously he wasn't… I had never actually even dared to think that Calvin would ask me out. Did he know I liked him?

"No." I folded my arms uncomfortably. I realized what must be happening- why there were so many people and why they had been laughing. What a joke; and it sort of hurt… but especially that it was coming from him, of all people. They knew. They all must know about my crush on him and were using it for a joke.

Then, though, a glimmer of hope came. Maybe… just maybe…

"Well, my friend wanted to know if you'd go out with him."

For some reason, out of all of my thoughts about where the conversation might go, this path hadn't occurred to me.

"What?"

"He thinks you're pretty."

Calvin was standing there, as if on a poster for a movie starring 'Calvin', but on this poster he was being portrayed in a very different role than from any other role I'd seen him act.

I looked around at everyone, briefly. How very, very funny; I kind of didn't get it, but the part of me that did was offended. The tall, laughing kid was losing it and the guy next to him was smiling and shaking with contained giggles.

"Well, that's very nice of him, really," I forced my attention firmly on Calvin. "But I don't even know his name and I'm not going to go out with someone who doesn't have the integrity to even ask me out his self."

I fished for my keys and fumbled them into the key slot, missing as I turned my head sharply from the whole scene, my hair whipping accordingly in direction and in wind, getting in my face. I pushed it aside.

"But, please, tell him that I am very flattered, really." I couldn't tell if I sounded genuine, sure that I hadn't, and I didn't care.

I stepped back to open the door, stumbling as I tried to heave my bags into the car. I got in, and shut myself in forcefully. My blond hair collected in a sudden cease of stimulation. I pushed it aside the best I could, despite the static, quickly focusing on hiding myself by reaching around the floorboards of the passenger's side, as if arranging my belongings, until I was sure they were probably all gone. When, minutes later, I warily sat up, they had all long dispersed.

What a joke. No one even had to be responsible for being the jerk to do it.