texaswildfire

Monday morning.
Riding in the backseat of Seth's car while Jonah rides in the front.
They have been teasing me about Marc.
I don't mind it too much. They like him. I like him. He likes me.
School is school is school.
English. Chemistry. History. Lunch with my friends.
Locker check.
No notes. Haven't even seen Marc once.
So far, I hate grey.

Math. Psych. Home Ec.
I made a cake.
Got an "A" because I know how to 'expertly use a star tip'.
Jonah took the bus.
I wait for Seth through his batting practice.
Jenna shows up with her swelling belly.
She doesn't dare sit next to me.
Someone better gets there first.

"How much homework do you have," he asks, his arms folding over his knees when his feet come to rest on the bleacher below us. "And, is that a cake? Where did you get that from?"

"I made it last period," I tell Marc, looking down to the lovely chocolate caramel swirl cake with rich chocolate frosting stars sitting atop it. "No homework. Well, none that I have to turn in until Friday. Why?"

"Just wondering," he says. "You know, batting practice doesn't end until almost 7 and I know a few kids that would love to have some of that cake. Myself included, of course. It would get you out of the heat and put you into the lovely air conditioning that won't ruin your skin."

I look out to watch Seth.
He's holding a bat to his crotch swinging it around, looking like an idiot.
All his friends laugh.
I just smile, tell Marc to grab the cake and follow him to the Journalism room.

Four other people sit there.
Small school.
Three guys. One girl.
They all wear glasses and eye my cake like they haven't seen one in forever.
Marc places it on his master desk.
The teacher, Mr. Foster, my other neighbor, smiles.
He likes my cakes, too.
He's eaten many of them.

"Oh, Miss West, Miss West...did you make this confectionary? It looks as though you did," Mr. Foster says as he studies the cake's detail. "You are more than welcome to stay and see how things work as long as you continue to bring things like these for us all."

"I'll go try to get a knife from the Home Ec. room," one of the guys says, leaving his work on his desk for everyone to see. For everyone to basically swoon over. "Should I find plates, too? Bowls?"

Bowls.
He brings those and a butter knife back.
Everyone eats cake.
I sit with Marc at his Mac Book and have my own.
He types amazingly fast.
No mistakes. Everything pefectly spelled. Amazing grammar.
Oddly, it's a turn on.

An hour and a half later, the whole cake is gone.
Everyone is bouncing from a sugar high.
Their work is done and Marc is giving me a ride home.
His car is so so so nice.
The seats are plush.
Jack Johnson plays once then Damien Rice then Adam Green.
Regina Spektor comes on as he pulls into his driveway.

"You can come in if you want," Marc says as we get out. "My dad is back home. Of course, you know that since yours is back, too. He usually just hangs out in the livingroom when my mom is gone, watching old Westerns on the big screen."

"I should at least eat dinner first," I tell him, starting to walk around the back of his car to the sidewalk. "Come out to the backyard later. You know the gate's always open."

He catches me at the edge of the fence when my feet hit the sidewalk.
It's quick. Over in an instant but he kisses me.
He mumbles about wanting to do that all day. I say I had, too.
He goes inside.
I go home to eat dinner with my mom, dad and Jonah.

Dad brought me a snowglobe back because those are always the perfect gift.
My mom finally gives me the shirts LeAnne gave her to give to me.
Vintage ones from the '80's.
I put them away and, as I'm folding the last ones, I hear tapping against my window.
First, I think it's just Seth throwing stones to get me to get him dinner.
Then, I think it's Jonah trying to get my attention for Seth.
But Seth hasn't come home, I remember.
Jonah's in his room talking to some girl on the phone.

I crawl across my bed to get to the window.
And, there he is.
Marc standing down below with pebbles from his mom's fish tank in hand.

I head downstairs quickly.
Smiling all the way.
I get to the unlit back yard and try to play it cool.
Marc shoves the extra pebbles into his pocket.

"I heard every girl dreams of hearing pebbles hit her window," he says just above a whisper when I'm close enough to him that I can count the thin knicks in his glasses. "I suppose you all want to be like Juliet, just waiting for some fairytale ending."

"Juliet didn't have a fairytale ending. She died. That was amazingly tragic," I remind him. "But, I have to admit that pebbles hitting one's window is gently jolting. I have been waiting for you but, now that I'm down here with you, I have no idea what to do. Do we just stand here in the dark or do you want to come in...?"

"Actually, I was going to ask if you wanted to come in with me. I spent the last few hours picking up my room, trying to make it semi-presentable," he says as his fingers fiddle with the latch on the gate he stands beside. "It's not bright green but there are some kind of neat things inside it that I think you'll like."

"Give me an example," I say, crossing my arms over my chest, trying to play it as cool as possible.

"I have a very awesome telescope," he offers. "Also, if you aren't so into that tonight, I can also offer some really great books, a stash of candies and I have both Clerks and Clerks 2 on DVD. It's only 9. If we get upstairs right now, we could have both movies watched by 12:30, that is, if you are up for it."

"You have given me plenty of choices but considering that I have never even been in your room, it would be nice to be given a tour of it before I make any kind of decision," I tell him.

So he opens the gate.
His dad doesn't notice us because he's absorbed in a movie.
But, I like his room.
It's big like mine but painted blood red with black accent stripes.
Everything else matches.
Even his telescope and sleek auto calendar.

His room looks the way he feels.
Gorgeous, put together yet oddly comfortable.
He turns the lights off so neon green pours down on us.
Glow-in-the-dark stars line the ceiling but aren't placed in the center.
It still means the room is dark.

"What do you think of the room," Marc asks as he turns on his T.V.

"It's really red but I like it. I can almost see why you were trying so hard to get me to come up this weekend," I tell him, watching as he sets his T.V. to AUX and starts to dig through the DVD's that sit on the top shelf of his black enamel desk. "Do you just lay on your bed to watch stuff or do you just toss all your pillows down on the floor?"

"If it's just me, I lay in the floor," he tells me, finally pulling the DVD's off the shelf. "But, it's up to you. If you want to test out my bed, you can do that all you want."

"Oh, if I'm going to test out a bed, I am going to need someone to test it out with," I tease, forgetting how I had told myself that I hated the feel of grey. "I shouldn't have said that."

"No, you should just say what you want to say, Rose. Tell me about school. How your day was until I made it better by eating your cake," he says, putting in the DVD. "I want to know about all the dirty little details and thoughts. Were any of them about me?"

"So, that is what you're getting at? You just want to know if I fantasized about you through any of my classes. I suppose I should tell you that I kind of did. Just a little," I say. "I don't know if you want to hear about those thoughts, though."

"You know I do," he says, forgetting about the DVD and joining me on his bed. "Every little detail."

I tell him that I felt weird not having contact with him.
But, I say that I understood that grey wouldn't allow for that.
No holding hands in the hall.
Kissing between classes.
But I did enjoy the one outside my house.

"It's a tricky thing, grey is. Walking around while holding hands is so nice and that is something that we both have to agree on doing. So is the issue of being in each other's personal space, the displays of new affection," he says as he strokes a strand of my hair behind my ear. "I wished I were eating lunch with you and your friends. You looked so happy, smiling and laughing. You were beautiful."

"You can some eat with us tomorrow if you want," I tell him, melting down slow at the way his finger twirls my hair.

"Or maybe, I could convince you to stay home with me. It's not Senior Skip day but, since I wasn't clever enough to go along with everyone, I get a free day. You could use a mental health day," he suggests.

"There's only one problem with that great plan, Marc. Your mom and Allison will be home sometime tomorrow," I tell him. "We will have plenty of time to lounge in a room alone during the summer and I don't know how I feel about actually doing that at this juncture in time. That is, if you still want me around come summer."

"Three and a half more weeks until summer starts and I have a good idea that I will want to have you around even more by the time it gets here," he says. "And, you're right. Summer is like a very long weekend with no plans, no big ones anyway. At least ride with me to school in the morning. I leave before Seth does but I stay in my lane the entire drive."

"I will take the offer whole-heartedly. It gets kind of old when Seth does his 'out of control' schtick. He almost gave the old lady down the street a heart attack last week when he swerved toward her," I say, twisting the hem of his shirt around my finger. "Just when do you leave?"

"Just after 7. I have to get to the Journalism room to make sure everyone is on schedule with their respective stories and features. It sounds utterly and completely boring but, you are welcome to see how everything works. Especially this time of year since Mr. Foster has to find a replacement for me for the coming school year. Competitive stuff," he says, trying to make it sound cool.

It doesn't.
I couldn't care less.
I just want to kiss him again so I act like I'm listening.
For another hour.
I go home and think about him.
Dream of him.
That's proof enough that I'm turning from dark grey to light.
The less grey, the better.
Right?