Some Kind of Normal

Trevor

By Wednesday afternoon I was pretty much fed up with our government, our laws, and our damn constitution. Pushing my laptop away, I leaned back in my chair and groaned. I had a nagging headache, hadn’t slept well, and for some reason, Everly was ignoring me.

All kinds of questions crowded my brain, and that only made my head ache more. Had I moved too fast? Was the kiss that rocked the world too much?

She was a church girl, and not that I knew much about the church she went to, but maybe there were rules. Maybe she’d broken them. Maybe our kiss should never have happened. Maybe it was too early for that kind of stuff. Or maybe she’d figured out that I had a lot more problems than just learning the stupid constitution.

I was the freak on the floor after all. My eyes squeezed shut, and I knew my cheeks were as red as the apples in Mrs. Craddock’s orchard. Man, when I was in bed trying to let go and sleep, that was the image burned into my retinas. Freak. On. The. Floor. So not cool.

I hadn’t seen Everly since Friday because I’d had to help my dad out at his shop over the weekend. The only conversation we’d had was a text she’d sent Monday morning.

Stuff came up not sure when I can meet you. Will let you know.

That was it. After our amazing Friday night, that was all I got and nothing more.

I’d sent her at least ten text messages Sunday alone but had given up when I got the Monday morning wake-up call. Man, I couldn’t figure her out. I know she’d felt it, whatever it was between us.

I’d held her hand all night, kept her tucked in my arms as the fire died down and the cooler air from the forest crept closer. She and Monroe got along just fine, and her friend Hailey was a cool chick too. Nate, Link, and I felt like kings.

And now nothing.

What. The. Hell.

I was at the library, same place Dad dropped me every day in the hope that she’d show up, but right now, I was so ready to bail. I’d only been here an hour and had four more to go. Dad wasn’t done work until five. I guess I could have called Mom for a ride home, but I wasn’t ready to be there yet either because I could never just relax. She still hovered. Still smoothed my hair back, rubbed where the incision in my skull had been. Still asked 101 questions.

How do you feel today?

Studies coming along?

Are you sure you’re not pushing yourself too hard? (That one she asked a lot, and I was starting to get the feeling that she wouldn’t be unhappy if I failed the stupid test. That meant I’d be stuck in Twin Oaks at least for a few more months.)

I poked at the edge of my laptop with my finger, sinking deeper into my chair as I eyed the tattoo across my knuckles. Courage. Huh. The word taunted me. Some nights, it was all I thought about. Courage to do what it was that I wanted to do, which was play guitar. Write some new songs. Do this stupid test and pass it. Move the hell on.

Then there was the other side to this whole mess. Courage to fail trying, though that was something I didn’t like to think about. Right now, failure wasn’t an option, but it was easier to say than to do.

A text came in.

Mom: Making your favorite. Invite Everly.

Me: Okay.

Mom: Okay to fajitas or okay to Everly?

I stared at her message for a good five minutes, aware that a few younger kids who were here for some sort of daycare program had left and I was alone. Well, except for Mrs. Henney, that is. I felt her eyes on me, and I knew it was only a matter of time before she came over and tried to chat me up. She was a nice lady but entirely too in your face. She didn’t know the concept of personal space and liked to invade mine whenever she got the chance.

I mentioned it to my dad once, and he laughed. Told me that back in the day, she’d been one hell of a looker (I didn’t see it but wasn’t about to call my dad out on that one). Dad said that her first husband had been a rocker with long hair and tattoos. I wasn’t exactly sure what my dad was getting at, but I had a feeling if I thought about it too long, the ick factor would gross me out.

Another text came in.

Mom: bad texting etiquette.

Me: what?

Mom: answer me about Everly.

I glanced outside once more, aware that Mrs. Henney was moving in for the kill. She always cleared her throat when she was about to pounce. I could stay here and play up to her teenage dreams, or I could…

Me: I’ll let you know.