Lisa Smith: The Awakening

“Oh, my God,” Caroline whispered.

“You can say that again,” breathed Bonnie.

From where she stood, Elena could see he had a lean, flat-muscled body. Faded jeans he probably had to peel off at night, tight T-shirt, and a leather jacket of unusual cut. His hair was wavy — and dark.

He wasn’t tall, though. Just average height.

Elena let out her breath.

“Who is that masked man?” said Meredith. And the remark was apt — dark sunglasses completely covered the boy’s eyes, shielding his face like a mask.

“That masked stranger ,” someone else said, and a babble of voices rose up.

“Do you see that jacket? That’s Italian, as in Roma.”

“How would you know? You’ve never been farther than Rome, New York, in your life!”

“Uh-oh. Elena’s got that look again. The hunting look.”

“Short-Dark-and-Handsome had better be careful.”

“He isn’t short; he’s perfect!”

Through the chatter, Caroline’s voice suddenly rang out. “Oh, come on, Elena. You’ve already got Matt. What more do you want? What can you do with two that you can’t do with one?”

“The same thing — only longer,” drawled Meredith, and the group dissolved into laughter.

The boy had locked his car and was walking toward school. Casually, Elena started after him, the other girls right behind her in a close-knit pack. For an instant, annoyance bubbled up inside her. Couldn’t she go anywhere without a parade on her heels? But Meredith caught her eye, and she smiled in spite of herself.

“ Noblesse oblige ,” Meredith said softly.

“What?”

“If you’re going to be queen of the school, you have to put up with the consequences.”

Elena frowned at this as they entered the building. A long corridor stretched before them, and a figure in jeans and leather jacket was disappearing through the office doorway up ahead. Elena slowed her pace as she walked up to the office, finally stopping to glance thoughtfully at the messages on the cork bulletin board by the door. There was a large window here, through which the entire office was visible.

The other girls were openly gazing through the window, and giggling. “Nice rear view.” “That is definitely an Armani jacket.” “You think he’s from out of state?”

Elena was straining her ears for the boy’s name. There seemed to be some kind of trouble in there: Mrs. Clarke, the admissions secretary, was looking at a list and shaking her head. The boy said something, and Mrs. Clarke lifted her hands in a “What can I say?” gesture. She ran a finger down the list and shook her head again, conclusively. The boy started to turn away, then turned back. And when Mrs. Clarke looked up at him, her expression changed.

The boy’s sunglasses were now in his hand. Mrs. Clarke seemed startled by something; Elena could see her blink several times. Her lips opened and closed as if she were trying to speak.

Elena wished she could see more than the back of the boy’s head. Mrs. Clarke was fumbling through piles of paper now, looking dazed. At last she found a form of some kind and wrote on it, then turned it around and pushed it toward the boy.

The boy wrote briefly on the form — signing it, probably — and returned it. Mrs. Clarke stared at it a second, then fumbled through a new pile of papers, finally handing what looked like a class schedule to him. Her eyes never left the boy as he took it, inclined his head in thanks, and turned to the door.

Elena was wild with curiosity by now. What had just happened in there? And what did this stranger’s face look like? But as he emerged from the office, he was settling his sunglasses in place again. Disappointment coursed through her.

Still, she could see the rest of his face as he paused in the doorway. The dark curly hair framed features so fine that they might have been taken from an old Roman coin or medallion. High cheekbones, classical straight nose… and a mouth to keep you awake at night, Elena thought. The upper lip was beautifully sculpted, a little sensitive, a whole lot sensual. The chatter of the girls in the hallway had stopped as if someone had thrown a switch.

Most of them were turning away from the boy now, looking anywhere but at him. Elena held her place by the window and gave a little toss to her head, pulling the ribbon out of her hair so that it fell loose around her shoulders.

Without looking to either side, the boy moved on down the hallway. A chorus of sighs and whispers flared up the moment he was out of earshot.

Elena didn’t hear any of it.

He’d walked right by her, she thought, dazed. Right by without a glance.

Dimly, she realized the bell was ringing. Meredith was tugging her arm.

“What?”

“I said here’s your schedule. We’ve got trig on the second floor right now. Come on!”

Elena allowed Meredith to propel her down the corridor, up a flight of stairs, and into a classroom. She slid into an empty seat automatically and fixed her eyes on the teacher at the front without really seeing her. The shock still hadn’t worn off.

He’d walked right by. Without a glance. She couldn’t remember how long it had been since a boy had done that. They all looked, at least. Some whistled. Some stopped to talk. Some just stared.

And that had always been fine with Elena.

After all, what was more important than boys? They were the mark of how popular you were, of how beautiful you were. And they could be useful for all sorts of things. Sometimes they were exciting, but usually that didn’t last long. Sometimes they were creeps from the beginning.

Most boys, Elena reflected, were like puppies. Adorable in their place, but expendable. A very few could be more than that, could become real friends. Like Matt.

Oh, Matt. Last year she’d hoped that he was the one she was looking for, the boy who could make her feel… well, something more. More than the rush of triumph at making a conquest, the pride in showing your new acquisition off to the other girls. And she had come to feel a strong affection for Matt. But over the summer, when she’d had time to think, she’d realized it was the affection of a cousin or sister.

Ms. Halpern was passing out trigonometry books. Elena took hers mechanically and wrote her name inside, still wrapped in thought.

She liked Matt more than any other boy she’d known. And that was why she was going to have to tell him it was over.

She hadn’t known how to tell him in a letter. She didn’t know how to tell him now. It wasn’t that she was afraid he’d kick up a fuss; he just wouldn’t understand. She didn’t really understand herself.

It was as if she were always reaching for… something. Only, when she thought she’d got it, it wasn’t there. Not with Matt, not with any of the boys she’d had.

And then she had to start all over again. Fortunately, there was always fresh material. No boy had ever resisted her successfully, and no boy had ever ignored her. Until now.

Until now. Remembering that moment in the hall, Elena found that her fingers were clenched on the pen she held. She still couldn’t believe he’d brushed by her that way.

The bell rang and everyone flooded out of the classroom, but Elena paused in the doorway. She bit her lip, scanning the river of students flowing through the hall. Then she spotted one of the hangers-on from the parking lot.

“Frances! Come here.”

Frances came eagerly, her plain face brightening.

“Listen, Frances, you remember that boy this morning?”

“With the Porsche and the — er — assets? How could I forget?”

“Well, I want his class schedule. Get it from the office if you can, or copy it from him if you have to. But do it!”