Something worth waiting for

Friends are a foreign concept to me. People you feel comfortable around, people you love, people you’d even go the lengths to lay downyour life for. All of it is weird to me. Or maybe just unknown. But that’s what happens when you don’t fit into acertain standard. And not in a ‘I’m so different and cool’ way, more of a ‘I’m a weird nerd who everyone avoids,’ way. No one talks to me, as if I'm a contagious disease. It’s as if they think my ‘nerdiness’ will rub off on them if I get too close. So, I just accepted it and basked in my solitude. And despite the hollow hole in my heart that loneliness filled up, I got used to it.

It has its pros; for example, my life is peaceful and drama-free. But wherever there’s pros, there must be cons. It gets lonely at times. Extremely. I feel alienated from society. There are hundreds of people around me, and yet I don’t feel any sort of connection to them. I feel like a silhouette walking through a sea of bright people, out ofplace and alone. But I don’t mind too much. The further away people are, the better, in my eyes.

The attacks that hurt and resonate the most are the internal ones. They come from the people you are closest to. Not to mention, these kinds of emotional hits are the most common. Why? Well, because it’s the people you are closest to who know you the best. Your fears, your weaknesses, even your most embarrassing moments. And I, for one, am doubtful I would ever take the risk of allowing someone to hold my heart in their hands like that again. It’s possible if I find the right person, but that’s a hard task in itself. It’s nearly happened a few times. But it resulted in failure every time. Which gave even more reason as to why I kept people at a safe distance.

I was currently in the school library, seated at a table reading Notes from Underground by Fyodor Dostoyevsky. I adore his writing. Especially in this novel, which happened to be my favorite. I loved the way the underground man spoke of alienation and loneliness. I loved the way he held a bitter perspective towards human beings and yet craved their company anyway. I loved Dostoevsky’s constant contradictions, like how he wrote with both logic and feelings. Most authors could only pull off one, but Dostoevsky did both, and it was perfect. But most of all, I loved how seen I felt every time I read this specific book. Why would a sixteen-year-old girl enjoy reading about an insane man who is having an existential crisis the whole story instead of, I don’t know, romance books orsomething? The answer is, maybe that ‘insane’ man understood me more than most of the people around me do. Is that a good thing? Probably not. Oh, and I read romance books too. Guilty pleasure. I might have a pessimistic view on society and people, and am quite afraid of people, but love just seems like a beautiful thing to me. I wanted to fall in love. I wanted someone to hold me in theirarms and gently kiss the crown of my head. I wanted someone to run their fingers through my hair and whisper sweet nothings in my ear. I wanted someone I could dedicate my favorite songs to, and I wanted to think about this someone all the time and see them in everything.

But that won’t happen. Or there were very low chances of it happening. Because I’m not easy to love. I’m not even easy to talk to or approach, let alone love. And society loves easy. They love finding the easiest way of doing things, the easiest way to live, the easiest way to learn, the easy way out, the easiest person to love—point is, they like easy. And I’m anything but easy. I’m a complicated person, I can’t even understand myself half of the time. It also doesn’t help that I push people away like my life depends on it. Well, it wasn’t like anyone approached me to begin with. If someone approached me, it was usually for answers or to just bully me. So, I doubt I will find the love I oh-so-desire.

My fingers gently grazed the pages as I turned them, as if I were dealing with something precious. Well, because in my eyes, I was. The school library was a small, comfortable space. It was cozy and had a warm atmosphere. The smell of coffee and old paper flooded my senses, and I seemed to melt into the chair beneath me. I liked to come here often, especially during lunch. Like right now. Most of the time, there was barely anyone here besides me and a few other people studying. I came here so often that the librarian, Mrs. Lowell, knew me by name now. She was a sweet, elderly lady with the kindest eyes I had ever seen. Every time I walked in, she asked how far I was into whatever book Iwas reading. It was light, talking to her. Normally, I couldn’t hold conversations for too long. They tended to drain me easily. But with Mrs. Lowell, conversations felt weightless. Almost airy. The library was like my safe space. It was the only area in the school where it was quiet. The only place where people seemed to be missing, and the only place where I could just breathe.

I was in the middle of reading a sentence whenI felt a presence looming over me. I looked up, blinking in confusion, only to see Michael Clarke leaning over my shoulder with a grin. I had seen him walk into the library earlier with his friends. They were all very popular, so they were kind ofhard to ignore. They were the stereotypical jocks who were blatant jackasses. Well, all of them except for Michael. I stiffened and braced myself for what I thought would be a teasing comment, a jab, or anything of the sort, really. Yes, Michael was the only decent person in the group. But tell me, if you had been bullied most of your life, especially by these kinds of people, what would you expect? If you said, ‘to make fun of you no matter how different they claimed to be’, you’d be right. The last thing I expected was for Michael to genuinely smile behind me and say, “Hey, Evangeline, right? Could I sit with you?"

I blinked, caught off guard. Apparently, the whole escape plan I had precisely thought out wasn’t necessary after all. I stammered, trying to come up with a decent response. “U-uh, yeah. Yeah, sure. That’s okay.”

I mumbled out weakly. Michael chuckled, but it didn’t seem malicious. At least, I hoped it wasn’t.

“Great, because I have something to ask you.” He spoke in a mock-serious tone, sitting in the chair across from me and leaning forward. His grin widened.

A suspicious frown tugged at my lips. What could he possibly have to ask me? He took my silence as a cue to go on. I braced for impact.

“I need you...”

He dramatically clasped his hands together, his head bowed.

“...to tutor me!”

Oh. All of that just for him to ask for academic help?

I hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to decide. “Sure.” I paused, glancing away from him, then back at him again. “But why?” He had no reason to ask me out of everyone, so why did he?

Michael groaned, running a hand through his unruly brown curls.

“My grades are dropping, and if they drop any more, I won’t be able to play in the tournament.”

I didn’t really have anything better to do, and some company would be nice. But it was Michael, that was the thing. All of this could be some kind of big joke or something, and I’d be playing right into it. But what did I have to lose? People made fun of me anyway. And I had to admit, helping someone made me feel a bit better about myself. The fact that he even sought me out in the first place sent an odd sense of pleasure and satisfaction throughout my body. What the hell, why not?

“...Okay.” I replied hesitantly, wincing when Michael cheered and whooped loudly.

“Hell yeah! Thanks, Rosewell! You’re a real one.” He sent me cheerful finger guns.

I hummed, fiddling with my fingers. “You’re welcome,” I muttered, shrinking into myself. I hated how awkward I was, but I couldn’t help it. I’ve never been good around people. Especially the extroverted and over-energetic kind.

“So... Uhm. Do you have a specific day and hour in mind? Do you want the tutoring to be at a cafe, or in one of our homes? Wait, that sounds too forward I’m sorry—”

I rambled on, before Michael cut me off with a snicker.

“Aw, you’re too cute.” He cooed teasingly, a smirk adorning his lips as he leaned back in his chair.

I glared at him, though it probably wasn’t all that threatening. Don’t patronize me, damn it! I just wanted thingsto be planned out so we wouldn’t have to worry about it later.

“Anyway, how about....” He trailed off, glancing away. I hoped he said a weekday or something. “...Does Thursday after school sound good? We can go to the Starbucks near the school.”

I nodded meekly. “...Yeah. Sure. That sounds good.” Huh. So he could be responsible. Shocker.

Michael smiled and stretched out his hand. “Do we have a deal, Evie?”

I hesitantly shook his hand. “We have a deal.”

Michael beamed and pumped his fist. “Hell yeah! Okay, you can’t break the deal, or a big tarantula is going to be under your pillow.” He whispered conspiratorially, palming his hand beside his mouth. “Sorry, not my rules.”

“No worries,” I deadpanned, exhaling sharply.“ I had no intention of doing so.” This guy barely started talking to me and I was already done with him. And now I had to deal with him until he got his grades up? What did I just agree to...

“Hey! Mike! What ’cha doing over there?C’mere.” Someone suddenly called out. I turned in the direction the voice came from to see a blonde kid in a group waving Michael over.

Michael chuckled and got up. “Alright, I gotta go, Evie. But here’s my number,” He handed me a small sheet of paper. “And we can talk more about this later. Bye, Rosewell.” He said, the corners of his mouth turning up before sauntering over to who I imagined were his friends, smiling and laughing.

My gaze lingered on where he went with the group, before sighing quietly and shoving the paper in my pocket. I guess I’d text him later. This was odd for me. No one has given me their number before. I felt weird but also...Oddly giddy? Like the idea someone was even talking to me—so normally and kindly, may I add—was bewildering. And so wonderful. Was I overreacting over such a small interaction? Probably. But this was a big deal for me, since people didn’t talk to me often. And when they did, it was never good. This interaction meant more to me than it should have. I was getting too excited over something that probably meant nothing to him. He talks with who-knows-how-many people daily, I was just another person on that list. And it was just a question. He asked me for help. It was something he needed. It wasn’t like he wanted to talk to me, he just needed something. I shouldn’t get my hopes up. The last time I did, I got hurt badly. That wasn’t going to happen again. I know better now.

* * *

“Did you see the fight today? Between Jack and Silas?” My older brother James asked as we walked towards the school gates. Another fight? Really? And of course, he was snooping into what was going on.

I lived in a small home with him and my dad. Our family was a bit complicated, honestly. My mom left a while ago when me and James were kids to start a new family with the man she had been having an affair with. She never really contacted us. And the times we had... well, it’d just end up in sneers and insults. Dad said Mom used to be sweet. I don’t know if I can imagine that. I would often see on her social media how she’d post with her new husband and kids with the caption, ‘My precious family!’ It made my blood boil.

I loved my brother. Despite how he should be enjoying himself now that he was a senior, he still took very good care of the both of us. I had to remind myself that even if this was hard on me, it was even harder on James. He should be living his life to the fullest, especially since he was a senior in high school. He had fun, but he could have so much more. It was limited to him because not only did he have to mostly take care of himself at this juvenile age, but a younger sister as well. My father did take care of us, but he worked most of the day. He usually took overtime at his job since he had to provide for all of us. But he does his best, and I love him. He is the best person in the world. But to be fair, even if he were the worst person in the world, I would still love him then, too.

I wasn’t much younger than James, just by two years. I was sixteen years old and he was eighteen. All of these heavy responsibilities were randomly thrown at him when he was a literal teen, and yet he still managed to smile and joke and laugh and glow with mirth. It baffled me. I wondered how he could still... function and act like a normal teen while having the responsibilities of an adult. It was impressive how he could go from silly to serious.

“I can’t say I have.” I replied. James was kind of a gossip mill. And it was interesting to hear what new gossip he seemed to find. I didn’t like the fact that he could possibly get involved, though. I’ve told him plenty of times not to stick his nose too far into other people’s business, or he’d get bitten in the ass and dragged into it.

James smiled slyly. “Oh, really? Well basically, Silus stole Jack’s girl. They’ve been arguing about it for days, but I guess their frustration won today. If it were me? I’d get mad at the girl. She was the one sleeping around!”

I snorted. He always seemed to get too passionate about matters that weren’t even his problem. That was one of the many things I admired about James. His empathy and humor.

“But it was also Silus’ fault for flirtingwith a girl who he knew had a boyfriend. So, they’re both at fault. I feel bad for Jack. He was whipped for Amelia.” I winced, because Jack had been head-over heels for her. It was cheesy, but also wholesome. I couldn’t believe Amelia threw that rare, pure love away so easily. Then again, when love and popularity came easily to you, it wasn’t anything to cherish.

James nodded sagely. “You’re right, Ev.”

“You always get too emotional about problems that don’t even involve you, James.” I mumbled, glancing at him.

He chuckled, ruffling my hair. “Because I care for Silus! Duh.”

I gave a skeptical hum. “I’ve never seen you talk to him before.”

James swallowed and rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well... Uhm...” He stammered, his gaze darting everywhere but me. He grunted and whacked the back of my head (gently), but it seemed more playful than bothered.

“...Shut up.”

I laughed quietly as we kept walking towards the exit. All of a sudden, my stomach grumbled. Loudly.

James stilled. We looked at each other as awkward silence filled the air around us. A few seconds later, he burst out laughing.

I groaned. “I’m hungry, okay?” I sent a withering look his way, but it only made him laugh harder.

James doubled over in laughter. “Aw, poor little Evie is hungry!” He practically wheezed out.

“You are infuriating.”

“Calm down, Ev. I’ll make us dinner, I’m hungry too.”

“...Fine.”

James ruffled my hair and we neared our apartment, the tall building coming into view. It actually wasn’t a bad place for the price. It was actually pretty nice.

Suddenly, James perked up, as if he had remembered something important. “Oh, right! The seniors are having a party today.” He glanced at me apologetically. “I mean, I’d ask if you want to come with me, but I know you won’t want to.”

I nodded. “I’m good. Thanks anyway, James.” My brother had given up enough fun in his life because of me. I didn’t like how he got so guilty about something like that. He should enjoy himself freely, without having me weigh down his shoulders. It didn’t help that I hated parties. The amount of people in them made my heart pound and cold sweat fall down my forehead.

“Okay,” James began. “Dad should be home by now, right?”

I hummed, thinking to myself. He usually gets out of work at this time.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

James grinned and ruffled my hair roughly.“Tell him I’ll be back later. Bye, Ev!” He said before sauntering off.

I sighed and straightened my backpack on my shoulders, walking the rest of the way home.

As I opened the door, I was greeted with the sight of my dad sitting at the kitchen table. He was staring at some papers, a frown creasing his brows. When he heard the door open, his head shot up. Dad smiled warmly.

“Evie. Hey, sweetie.”

I smiled back, walking over to him and leaning over his shoulder.

“Hey, dad. What are you doing?” I asked. As I peered over his shoulder, I caught sight of the contents of the papers. It seemed to be a variety of income statements and verification documents.

Dad chuckled wearily. “Just some paperwork. How was school?”

I shrugged, reaching for a peach on the counter and taking a bite. Dad moved his paperwork to the side.

“Nothing unusual. Same as always...” I paused, thinking back to my previous encounter with Michael.

Dad raised a brow, clearly noticing my sudden thoughtfulness.

“Are you sure, honey?” He asked skeptically.

“I guess something did happen.” I said, sitting next to him. He turned towards me, a curious look on his face.

“Well? Spill,” he said with a teasing smile.

I chuckled, beginning to recount what had happened earlier. “A guy came up to me and asked me to tutor him. He seemed...nice enough?”

Dad’s eyes widened, and a sly grin graced his mouth.

“Oh, a boy?” He sighed dramatically, clutching his heart. “My baby is growing up... She’s socializing, finally!”

I gave him a blank look. His smile grew. Then we both started laughing.