Michael Griffo - Unwelcome

“I am!” Phaedra cried, sounding as if she were trying to convince herself even more than Michael. “I’m sure if there was any real danger, I would have heard you.”

“Well, I didn’t realize I was in any real danger until, you know, my head was being bashed into the ground,” Michael said with a heavy dose of sarcasm. “And by then I figured it would just be better to take my chances and fight back instead of waiting for the cavalry.”

Stunned, Phaedra could barely respond. “I’m sorry, Michael,” she stammered. “I had no idea.”

Now that Michael had said what he wanted to say, albeit with a lot more aggression than he had expected, he felt bad seeing Phaedra so upset, truth was she had helped him survive many other perilous situations. “Clearly our communication skills suck,” Michael said, trying to lighten the tone of the conversation. “Why don’t we come up with a code word? Something super specific that’s just between the two of us so there’s no way you won’t know it’s me.” Michael thought for a moment and then exclaimed, “Something like Mykonos, where you said you were born!”

Phaedra was only half listening to what Michael was saying, she was too busy hearing her own voice berate her, call her things like selfish, embarrassing, dishonorable. The only reason she existed was to protect, and if she couldn’t do that properly, well, then maybe she should leave, return. But no, she didn’t want to think about that; she was definitely enjoying her time here on earth. She had forgotten how many exciting adventures this planet had to offer and she had never inhabited the body of a teenage girl before. It was a good fit. No, she wanted this to work. “That sounds like an excellent plan,” she said finally. “Our own private code word. I’m sure that will solve everything.”

“Perfect,” Michael said, glad that Phaedra was so agreeable and that his harsh words didn’t put a permanent kink into their friendship. And then again, not so perfect. Doubt breached his confidence. If Phaedra couldn’t hear his panicked pleas, what made him think she would hear some lame code word? He knew that made sense, but maybe all she needed was a reminder, make her remember that the main reason she was here was to keep him safe. Even if it was very clear that she had other things on her mind. “So, um, how are things between you and Fritz?” Michael asked.

From one controversial topic to another. Despite that, Phaedra couldn’t hide her smile. “Things between us are okay.”

Not exactly the exciting bit of gossip Michael was hoping to hear. “Just okay?”

“Well, you know boys,” Phaedra joked, stretching the word into three syllables. “It’s sometimes hard to know what they’re thinking.”

Michael knew all about that. He had spent the first sixteen years of his life keeping his thoughts to himself. Yes, boys could be a mystery, even boys who seemed pretty easy to read, like Fritz. “You know, I haven’t known Fritz very long, but I have noticed a change in him lately,” he said. “I think it’s all because of you.”

Phaedra hoped so, but hoped for what exactly? What could she possibly expect to hope would happen, that she and Fritz would become a couple and live happily ever after? There were no guarantees in her world. No matter how badly she wanted to stay, the decision wasn’t up to her. At any time she could be called to return to the Holding Place to await someone else’s prayers. But no, until then I’m here. Pushing away all disagreeable thoughts, she ran her hand through a clump of curls and confessed, “I was hoping to get to see him today, though. It’s not every day that I get to have lunch here, you know, on the boys side of town.”

During the winter months, the restrictions about commingling were loosened. If a St. Anne’s student had a class near St. Martha’s before or after her lunch period, she could eat here instead of walking all the way over to St. Leo’s, the girls cafeteria on the far end of campus. Sister Mary Elizabeth made the change a few years ago when she realized, despite the long-standing rule separating the sexes, most of her students were sneaking into St. Martha’s anyway. “I hear the food over at St. Leo’s isn’t nearly as good as over here,” Michael commented, then caught a glimpse of his abandoned, yet full, plate. “Not that I would really know the difference anymore.”

Giggling, Phaedra nodded. “I don’t think Leo would either; he was a big proponent of fasting.”

“Was that before or after he sampled the cuisine?” Michael asked.

While laughing at his own joke, Michael tried to inconspicuously look around the room and then at his watch. He thought for sure that Fritz would be somewhere in the cafeteria; this was his lunch period too. But then again, maybe he got another detention. “Maybe he’s avoiding me,” Phaedra suggested.

“Avoiding you? That’s ridiculous,” Michael countered. “Have you seen the way he looks at you?”

“Well, yes,” Phaedra admitted, but she was still unsure. “I know I don’t have a lot of experience, but things seem to be moving a bit slowly.”

Slowly? Michael couldn’t imagine Fritz moving slowly, taking his time getting to know Phaedra. He thought for sure he’d be trying to get as close to her as quickly as possible. Then again, his mother did once tell him that things and people aren’t always what they seem. Maybe Fritz was really shy when it came to girls. That would be ironic. “Maybe that’s for the best,” Michael declared. “It’ll give you time to get used to the whole boy-meets-girl thing, especially since in your case it’s really boy-meets-girl-who’s-really-an-efemera sort of thing.”

No wonder Ronan fell in love with him so completely, she thought; he finds joy in the most unexpected places. And most unexpectedly, Phaedra saw something that brought her joy as well. “Let’s keep that efemera thing under wraps for now,” she whispered. “Fritz and company at two o’clock.”

When he reached the table, Phaedra saw that Fritz’s expression was not really what could be described as joyful. In contrast, Ciaran, sliding onto the bench next to Michael, wore a smile that was a marked improvement over his typical serious countenance. “Behold a gift from beyond the grave,” Ciaran announced theatrically, his hands unfurling to gesture the small box Fritz was holding.

“I told you that isn’t funny, you twit!” Fritz barked.

It also didn’t sound like Ciaran, Michael thought. He guessed that making first string on the swim team had turned Ciaran the Serious into Ciaran the Cheerful.

Whatever reason for the change, he held his ground. “You, Mr. Ulrich, need to lighten up and accept the fact that inside that box is something quite wonderful.”

Dropping the box on the table, Fritz looked quite the opposite, as if it contained hideous secrets that could harm mankind if they were unleashed on the world. Grunting something unintelligible, he plopped down next to Phaedra, forcing her to scoot over quickly or risk being used as a seat cushion. This is what I was hoping for, Phaedra thought, to share some time with a grouchy boy? “Fritz,” Phaedra started, “is there, um, anything wrong?”

Fritz heard her, but his eyes didn’t move from the box. “No.”

Phaedra and Michael looked at Ciaran, who obviously knew what was in the box and therefore the cause of Fritz’s funk and tried to get him to tell them what was going on without actually asking him. After a moment, it was clear that Ciaran’s communication skills also sucked. “Ciaran!” Michael said. “Are you going to tell us?”

“Tell you what?” he innocently responded.

“Why this one’s face is scraping the floor,” Phaedra declared, pointing her thumb in Fritz’s direction.