shouldnât affect me so fully. âI still say itâs probably my messed-up face.â
He frowns. âItâs not messed up, Clara. Youâre beautiful.â
Elias thinks everyone is beautiful, Iâm sure.
âAre you okay?â He rests a hand on my shoulder. âYou seem jumpy.â
Iâm not sure how to answer. I just stare at this guy who Iâve known since I was a kid.
âClara?â he asks again.
I shake my head, wishing the action would jumble the loose parts of my thoughts together. âI really want out of here. Do you think we could get out of here?â
His head rests to the side and his brow furrows in worry.
I know he wonât want to skip because he never does, but maybe â¦âPlease?â
âYeah ⦠okay.â He puts his arm around me, tucking me in to his side. âWe can go.â
Weâre five cars behind the stupid speaker at the McDonaldâs drive-through because itâs the only fast-food restaurant in town. Despite the wait, it feels delightfully scandalous to be here instead of at school.
One day Iâll be living somewhere with small, trendy cafés and corner vendors, and ⦠My gaze floats toward Elias. The guy who Iâm sure will wait for me if I ask him to. Itâs just a conversation Iâm not ready to have, and one I can put off for another year. An uneasy feeling spreads through me in a sort of spidery way.
âThe house you were designing looked cool,â I say, trying to focus on something normal, but maybe we should be pushing past our normal.
He taps the steering wheel. âThanks. Drawing plans for homes that small isnât really practical up here. But itâs like when you step into a motor home and thereâs not an inch of wasted space. I like the idea of that.â
âHmm.â
I stare out the window at the ravens gathered at the garbage bins and listen to the complex language as they talk to each other. They used to scare me, but not anymore. Even their beady, too-knowing eyes donât send creepers up my spine the way they did when I was a kid. So much has changed. I glance at Elias briefly, wondering whatâs going to change for us as we get older.
My small notebook rests on my leg, and I scribble a few random sentences about the birds.
Suddenly, Elias pulls away from the speaker toward the window.
I turn to face him. âI didnât tell you what I want.â How did we get so far up in line?
His brows rise a bit. âIn the two years Iâve been coming through this drive-through with you, itâs been the same thing.â
âNot always,â I protest.
âAlways.â A corner of his mouth pulls up like Iâm adorable, but I donât want to be adorable; I wanted to order.
âNo.â I can feel myself pouting, and I know itâs ridiculous, but I canât seem to stop it.
Elias sighs. âIâm sorry then. You were watching those nuisance birds like always. You had your notebook out, and I thought I was doing a nice thing by ordering without interrupting your train of thought.â His voice turns quiet. âWhatâs going on with you?â
I want him to sound irritated or angry. I want him to give me something to push against, but thereâs no pushing against someone who is genuinely concerned about what Iâm thinking. Whatâs wrong with me?
âWhy arenât you frustrated?â I ask.
He touches my cheek. The one closest to him. The one without the scars. I sometimes think he avoids touching that side of my face, but I canât be sure because it just sort of happens that heâs on my left side a lot. He drives a lot. The deeper his eyes look at me and the more his hand touches my cheek and then my hair and then his fingertips slide up and down my neck, the less I think about wanting to be frustrated and the more I think about where else Iâd like his hands.
Knowing the importance
Tim Dorsey
Sheri Whitefeather
Sarra Cannon
Chad Leito
Michael Fowler
Ann Vremont
James Carlson
Judith Gould
Tom Holt
Anthony de Sa