Extraordinary October. Diana Wagman

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СКАЧАТЬ alone on a bench as I walked across the playground from the parking lot. He was texting someone furiously and I got a quick pang of jealousy.

      Stop it, I told myself. He’s a college student. You’re in high school. This is just an experiment.

      I knew what kind of experiment I wanted it to be.

      “Hey,” I called to him.

      He looked up, saw me and grinned. His face opened like the sun coming through the gray clouds. I stopped. I wanted to spend a moment just bathing in that smile, letting it warm me. Driving over I’d been so nervous, but seeing him my stomach calmed, my shoulders relaxed. The only way to describe it is that he seemed familiar, comfortable, as if we were members of the same tribe. Which, I told myself, we couldn’t be. He was from the College of Incredibly Handsome and I was from Camp Ordinary.

      “Sit with me,” he said.

      I sat beside him on the cement bench. Some brainchild juvenile delinquent had written “ass” on the edge of the seat in black marker, not even on the part where your ass actually went. I wanted to add an arrow. I looked at Walker. He didn’t have a laptop with him, or a notebook, only his phone that he had put away. What about the experiment? I waited for him to say something. Instead, he took my hand. I felt the touch of his fingers all the way up my arm, into my chest. He closed his eyes and put two fingers to my wrist, taking my pulse.

      “Your heart is racing,” he said.

      “Is this part of the experiment?”

      He laughed and opened his eyes. “You’re a worrier.”

      “I’m thoughtful,” I countered. “There’s a lot in this world to think about.”

      “Not for long,” he said.

      I didn’t know what he meant. “I don’t think the world’s problems are going away any time soon.”

      “Other things will become more important.”

      “Like what?” I wondered if this was part of the experiment. I wondered if holding my hand was part of the experiment. Was the point to totally throw me off balance and then ask weird questions?

      He played with my fingers. “Still itching?”

      “Not at all.”

      “Right as rain,” he nodded. “Isn’t that what you said?”

      I blushed, mortified that he chose to remember that of all things.

      “Don’t be embarrassed. It’s perfect.” He looked up at the darkening sky. “Rain is always exactly right.”

      I didn’t want him to let go of my hand, but everything he said was a little confusing. He had blond, curly hair that was casually messy and I wondered if he worked hard to make it look that way. His jeans were expensive, if well worn, and he wore nice sneakers and a gray sweater that looked like cashmere. A blue T-shirt exactly the color of his eyes was just visible around the neck of the sweater. That T-shirt was definitely on purpose. He knew how good-looking he was and in my experience—okay, in books I’d read—guys like that were not to be trusted. I didn’t know anything about him, I’d never even heard of Hayden College, and more importantly, no one knew where I was.

      “When is this experiment thing going to start?” I forced my voice not to quaver.

      “Soon.” He saw my discomfort and apologized. “I’m just curious, so curious.”

      “About what?”

      “You.” He did seem to be studying me. He smiled. “How did the itch begin?”

      I groaned. I really didn’t want to talk to him about that. “It went away.” I hoped that was enough, but he was persistent.

      “Did it come on slowly? Gradually? Like a little tickle first, then a little more?”

      Maybe if I told him we could move on to a more interesting subject. “It started out of nowhere,” I said. “In the middle of History class. The bottom of my foot. Bang. Like that. Like an explosion on my foot, followed by a fire everywhere.”

      “Bang,” he almost whispered it. “You’re lucky.”

      “I am?”

      “A strong itch means a strong reaction.”

      “To what?”

      “To turning eighteen.”

      Birthdays didn’t cause itching, did they? And how did he know I was about to turn eighteen? I supposed Principal Hernandez could have told him I was almost eighteen. I was a senior. The experiment was about applying for college. It wasn’t so far fetched.

      “I’m nervous,” I said. “About graduating. Moving away from home. Were you nervous when you went to college?”

      “You’ll be fine. I think you’re made for this.”

      “Made for what?” Okay, now he was creeping me out.

      “Do you like the outdoors?”

      I wasn’t going to tell him. It was time to go home, past time. Lots of serial killers are attractive; I remembered that from the psycho-murderer show on PBS.

      “I have to go,” I said. “I told my dad I wouldn’t be long.” I tossed my hair back and Walker’s grip tightened.

      “What’s that on your neck?”

      With my free hand, I touched the red mark I had seen in the mirror. It was raised, bumpy, and kind of hot to the touch. “I don’t know. I must’ve scratched myself.”

      “Was there someone at your house today?”

      “My dad.”

      “Anyone else?”

      “This kooky woman.”

      He frowned and waited for me to go on, but I didn’t want to tell him about my dad and Madame Gold.

      “I must’ve bumped into something.” I stood up, pulled my hand from his and immediately shivered as if an ice cube had dripped down my spine. I wanted his warm hand back, but I turned away. “Thank you. Maybe we can try this at school one day.”

      “I’m not here long.” He paused. “Four days. Tops.”

      I shrugged and stepped back toward the parking lot.

      “Yoo hoo!” A girl’s voice rang out across the park. “Walker! October!”

      It was Luisa and Jed, her tall, skinny boyfriend. They tossed the Frisbee back and forth as they walked toward us.

      “What is she doing here?”

      “She’s part of the experiment,” Walker said.

      I sighed. Next to Luisa’s shiny dark hair and lovely long legs, I faded away.

      “You СКАЧАТЬ