P. Hoover - Solstice

Can he know I dream of a future without my mom?

I try to respond but find I can’t open my mouth. I tear at my mind, wishing brilliant words would form there, but I come up empty. And Shayne seems content to let the conversation go and sit in the awkward silence. After a minute, I force myself to break his eye contact. My mom will kill me. I should get up and move somewhere else. My mom would want me to change seats. She’s told me a million times that guys can’t be trusted. But he seems convinced I’ve been sitting by him all year, so what’s the harm in one more day?

I look back over at Shayne. He smiles, and the red specks are gone from his eyes. I blink a few times, but they’re still not there. I must have imagined them. Just like I’ve imagined not knowing him. He turns back to look out the window and starts flipping the stylus again on his fingers. Mr. Kaiser drones on about the conspiracy theories behind global warming which range from normal things like people not recycling plastic to the more absurd ideas like carbon dioxide being pumped into the atmosphere by an alien race trying to take over Earth. I sit back and listen to all the craziness about the Global Heating Crisis and wait for class to end.

When class is over, I shove my tablet in my backpack and stand to leave, wondering if Shayne will talk to me on the way out—not sure what I’ll say, though anything will top the wonderful conversation I carried on earlier. I’m not actually sure it qualifies as a conversation. But when I look over, the chair next to me is already empty. I glance toward the door, hoping I don’t look obvious, but there’s no sign of him. He either ran from the room or disappeared into thin air.

My heart regains a normal rhythm as I head to the library, but as I walk down the hallway, I can’t help but look around, hoping to catch his eye or even a glimpse of him. I stop at the water fountain, swipe my FON, and drink until the fountain turns off. I swipe my FON again, taking another turn. The water is warmer than the air around me, but my throat’s dried out over the last hour, so I don’t mind as long as it’s wet. I wipe my mouth and stand up, glancing around. Shayne is nowhere. But I do run into the girl with the gel allergy from Friday. Her blisters have dried up to the point that they’ve crusted over which makes me glad I thought to bring the aloe salve for her also. She thanks me like a million times and then heads to the bathroom to put it on.

Chloe’s already waiting for me in the library. Her dark hair’s shorter than it was on Friday, and she’s got it pulled under an emerald green bandana so just the ends stick out. She’s worn a bandana every day of the four years I’ve known her. I remember asking her why on the shuttle home from school the first day I met her. She’d laughed and said, “Because it looks good on me.” And Chloe was right, though the bandana has nothing to do with it. She’s got the body of someone who hasn’t missed a day of exercise in years, and blue eyes the color of stormy water.

“You got a haircut.”

She touches her hand to the bandana and smiles. “It was getting out of control.”

I laugh and sit down. “I don’t want to hear it.” As if she knows out-of-control. My blond hair grows curlier and longer by the day, and getting it cut only seems to make it grow faster. My mom always says it’s like the plants we sell in the Botanical Haven: thick and full and gorgeous, and she combs it for me each night. I view it as a burden and stick it in a ponytail as soon as I get to school each morning.

“You’re late,” Chloe says. She reaches into her backpack and pulls out a box wrapped in red-striped paper and tied with a bright red ribbon.

I smile when she pushes it across the table to me. I look at the present, itching to open it, but also bubbling over to tell her about Shayne. She beats me to the punch.

“I have a total new crush,” she says, and instantly my heart tightens. What if she’s talking about Shayne? I think I’d crumple in on myself and die on the spot.

“Who?” I ask.

“Reese. From Physics. I can’t believe I’ve never noticed how smoking hot he is until today, but we got teamed up in this lab activity, and I swear he flirted with me the entire time.”

“Who’s Reese?”

Chloe rolls her eyes. “You know who Reese is. Tall. Blond hair. Looks like he could squash an army tank.” The blue of Chloe’s irises deepens when she talks about him. I’ve seen her act this way before. She crushes on someone new each week.

I shake my head because I can’t place someone named Reese. “I don’t think I know him.”

“Totally your loss.”

Maybe my memory is just slipping. Or maybe I’m losing it. “Do you know someone named Shayne?” Just thinking about him sends a chill straight down to parts I don’t want to mention. At least not to anybody but myself.

Chloe purses her lips. “Sure. I mean, I think. What’s he look like again?”

I give Chloe the PG-13 rated version. I tell her about his thick black hair, and about his brown eyes. I mention his perfect build. I even tell her about how we talked. But I leave out the part about how he made me want to run away from my contrived life and do something exhilarating. And I certainly don’t tell her about the overwhelming urge I felt to be with him like I’d never wanted anything before. I may tell Chloe almost everything, but some things are way too personal to even tell your best friend.

Chloe shrugs. “I think I know who you’re talking about. He’s okay.”

My chest relaxes. My mom may never let me go out on a date with a guy, but that doesn’t mean I want my best friend dating someone I could fall in love with on the spot.

“Anyway, this all seems kind of perfect if you ask me.”

“In what way?” I ask, pretending I don’t know.

Chloe smiles and grabs my hands across the table. “I could date Reese, and you could date Shayne.”

A weird, queasy feeling moves into my stomach, and I realize I have butterflies. The thought of actually going on a double date. I could sneak out when my mom wasn’t looking. But then reality asserts itself and squashes the butterflies. It’s a life I’ve dreamed of since I knew the difference between boys and girls. But it’s also a life my mom will never let me lead. In no uncertain terms, my mom has told me I can’t date. Like not even work on homework together with a guy. Ever. Though more and more I wonder how long ever really is. Does she seriously expect me to live my entire life with her and never do anything for myself? As much as I love my mom, she’s psychotically oppressive, and each day that goes by makes her issues all the more evident.

“Good idea, right?” Chloe’s testing me.

I look down and pull my hand away, pushing some of the unruly hair that’s come out of my ponytail behind my ear. “Please.”

Chloe fixes her eyes on me. “Please what? You’re eighteen now. You have a life of your own. Your mom does not own you.”

I know it’s true. And I love Chloe for saying it. She’s always trying to get me to venture out. To escape from the stifling force which is my mom. But I always do what my mom says. I always have.

“She’s just got this way,” I say. A way of laying on the guilt of how she raised me alone my whole life. Of how she kept me hidden from a criminal father who wanted to steal me away. A father who’d gotten close a few times; nearly succeeded. But my mom had protected me. Made sure I was safe.

“You need to get over it,” Chloe says.