Arcadia's Gift(3)

“Are you okay?” he asked.
I wasn’t okay, but my problems had nothing to do with my throbbing toe. “No, but I’ll live,” I replied dismissively. “What are you so into there that you couldn’t watch where you were going?” I gestured to his hand where he had a finger stuck in a book to hold his page.
He held up The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy with a guilty expression. “It’s stupid ‘cause I’ve read it like five times already….” His voice trailed off and he shifted his weight from foot to foot.
“Don’t panic,” I said.
His brows knitted together in question. “I’m not?”
I gestured to the book in his hand.
He grinned. “Oh, right! Don’t panic.” The boy was obviously pleased that I had read the book enough to quote from it, proving we were both card carrying members of the same nerd club.
His grin faded and his feet began doing the shuffling thing again. “Anyway… sorry to disturb you.” He pivoted and began walking away.
“Wait!” I called after him.
He stopped and looked over his shoulder at me. Light purple shadows lingered beneath his eyes and his mouth was tight.
“Are you okay?” I asked. “You seem…”
The corner of his mouth twitched into a half grin, “No, but I’ll live.”
As a sucker for all creatures in need, human, animal or insect, I decided to introduce myself. “I’m Arcadia Day. You can call me Cady…everyone does.”
“I know. You’re in my literature class. And your sister, Avalon, has chemistry with me. Pretty names.”
“Uh, thanks. I’m sorry, I never noticed you in lit, but don’t feel bad, I’m not very observant.” Duh! Why did I say that?
“No problem. I sit a few rows behind you. I recognized you a moment ago by the back of your head.”
I couldn’t help grinning. “So, considering I’m not so observant, and I obviously didn’t pick it up in class, are you going to tell me your name?”
“Oh, yeah, sorry. I’m Bryan Sullivan. I’m new. We moved to Dubuque this summer from Portland…the one in Oregon. Not Maine.”
“Well, I guess we’re both heading to lit, so if you’ll wait for me to check this out, I’ll walk to class with you.”
A spark of enthusiasm flashed in his eyes briefly before he stifled it in an effort to remain cool. He gave a quick nod. In a school as large as ours, it could be difficult to make friends.
The first bell rang as I finished at the checkout counter. Bryan waited by the door, staring at his sneakers.
“I have to stop by my locker, but it’s on the way,” I said. “Do you have your stuff for class?”
Bryan nodded and patted his backpack. “They gave me a locker way up on the fourth floor, so it’s easier if I carry most of my books with me.”
We pushed through the busy halls. The noise of the crowd around us didn’t make conversation very easy.
“So how are you fitting in?” I shouted. “Making friends?”
He shrugged. “My mom signed me up to play piano in the school jazz band. She thought it would help me to get to know some people. A few of the guys are cool, but we are in that talk-to-each-other-in-class-but-don’t-associate-outside-of-school phase.”
“Ah, I suppose it takes time,” I replied. “So you play the piano?”
“Started with lessons when I was four years old. I prefer the guitar, but the school already had plenty of guitar players, so piano it is.”
“That’s so cool! I always wished I could play an instrument.”
Lockers at our school are assigned by class and in alphabetical order, which means Lony’s locker is right next to mine. She and Cane were leaning against the doors of both, staring googley-eyed at each other and blocking my access when I approached.
“Do you think you can go scrog somewhere else? I need to get into my locker.”
Cane gave a Neanderthal-like grunt and Lony stuck her tongue out at me, but they did scoot over. Bryan waited by my side as I swapped my books out. Lony’s eyes did a double take when she noticed the boy was actually with me, but Cane steered her off toward their next class before she could say anything. Thank you, Jock Boy.
I swung the metal door closed and spun the lock. “Ready?” I asked with a nervous smile.
“So, you and your sister…you’re twins, right?” Bryan asked as we walked.
“Yeah.”
“I almost didn’t notice. You don’t seem much alike.”
“I know. We’re actually identical, but you’re right…we don’t have a lot in common.”
“Is she taller than you?”