I was equal parts excited and nervous the next day as I awaited the third session when I'd have English again. Because, was yesterday a fluke? Or would he be in colour again?
But as eager as I was to see him, I still kept my head turned to my book, avoiding looking at everyone as they entered the room.
Though, as the teacher started the class and called the roll, no voice called out 'here' at his name. Slightly deflated, I craned my head in my chair to glance at the empty spot behind me. And, as expected, it was empty.
He never showed up that day.
In fact, I never saw him the rest of the week.
And perhaps I would have completely forgotten his existence if Carys didn't turn it into a thing.
"Seriously, who do you keep looking for?" she asked on Friday first break as I eagerly glanced around the school grounds while we ate lunch.
"No one," I muttered, taking a bite of my sandwich.
"Bullshit. Every single day at lunch and in class you're looking around as though you're trying to find someone. Who is it?"
"It's nobody," I sighed, looking anywhere but her.
"Uh-huh. Because your tone is totally suggesting that. C'mon. Spill. Who do you have a crush—"
"It's not a crush," I quickly interrupted her, but I could already feel my cheeks warming.
It isn't a crush, I assured myself as I became surprised by my own unexpected bodily reactions. I'm just curious as to whether I saw correctly...
"It's not a crush, and I'm a zebra," Carys deadpanned. "Just tell me, Indi. It's not like I'm going to tell anyone."
"It's not a crush," I mumbled again, fiddling with the wrap on my sandwich. "But... You see... On my first day, there was this boy in my class..."
A knowing smirk began to steal her face as she leaned back on the bench, patiently listening to my story.
"And, well, he asked to borrow a pen and... Ugh, this is all beside the point. Long story short, I almost thought I saw him in colour."
She sat upright, eyes going wide. "In colour?" she barked. "But you can't—"
"I know," I interrupted her. "It's scientifically impossible. And I'm not even sure if it was colour because I don't know what colour is. But... he wasn't black and white."
"Maybe I can help you figure it out then. What colour was his hair?" she then responded, eyes blinking innocently at me.
"I don't know?"
"What do you... Oh, right. You wouldn't know how to label the colours."
I shook my head at her in response.
"Why would you be seeing him in colour though if it's impossible?"
"I don't know. I've been looking out for him in the hopes that I'd see him again to be sure if it was some one-off thing where maybe I was hallucinating, you know?"
"Ah... I see. But... what if you're right Indi? What if you did see him in colour?"
Teeth snagging my bottom lip, I mulled her question for a moment. Because what if I really did see correctly? What did it mean about my condition? Or what did it mean about my mental state that I was starting to see colours? "I don't know... I guess I'd need to investigate why."
She nodded slowly, joining me in the silence as we both thought about it for a moment. But then she said, "Well, go on. Who is it? I have to know now."
I groaned, then took a bite of my sandwich, hoping having a mouth full of food would be enough of an excuse to end this conversation before it neared territory I did not want to cross.
"No, no, no. You don't get to drop this interesting fact on me—"
"I could be wrong."
"Don't care. And you don't get to be glancing around like a little girl with a big crush—"
"It's not a crush."
"Still don't care. And not tell me?"
I pressed my lips together as Carys narrowed her eyes challengingly. We continued like that for a few breaths, staring at each other, waiting for the other to cave.
But eventually I admitted, "I believe his name was Harley?"
"Harley?" she spat, actual droplets of spit hitting my face.
I dabbed at the wetness, though Carys didn't even care to apologise. The news I had given her seemed to have taken her sense hostage.
"Harley Brooks? The Harley Brooks?"
"I never got his surname."
"There's only one Harley in our year level. Oh my gosh... you're crushing on Harley Brooks?"
"I never said it's a—"
"Oh, come off it. If it's Harley Brooks, then for sure it's a crush."
"Does he always come with the first and last name?"
"He is dreamy to be fair. With his smouldering stare and a smile that makes any girl's panties drop to the floor." Carys heaved a groan. "Like, I consider myself Aromantic, but when Harley Brooks is involved..."
"So he does always come with both parts of the name."
"He's sooooo gorgeous." But whatever daze she had been in, she suddenly snapped out of. Shaking her head, her hands gripped my shoulders at once. Eyes wide and alarmed, she said, "You can't ever befriend Harley Brooks, Indi. Do you hear me?"
"Why?"
"Because he's trouble. You look, but you don't touch."
"Who said I was going to touch him?"
"You did. When you said you saw him in colour."
"How does seeing him in colour imply—"
"Because obviously the reason behind this sudden colour thing has to be love. It's scientifically—"
"I think I must have been feeling a rush of adrenaline and anxiety, which may have led to a shortness of breath, therefore impairing my sense of reason and judgement. Therefore, I must have hallucinated the colour, and, the next time I see him, he will be in black and white."
Carys deadpanned at me for a few moments. But then her mouth opened and she continued to waffle. "Stay far away from him, Indi. Believe me. Don't look. Don't touch. Don't even breathe the same air as him."
"Why?"
"Because he's trouble."
"What type of trouble?"
"Like the 'he's been suspended from this school so many times that he will be expelled the next time' trouble. Like the 'I heard he held a knife to someone's throat once' trouble. Like the 'if you ever want drugs, Harley is the guy to talk to' trouble."
"Drugs?" I asked, deciding that was the one thing to hone in on. The suspensions were just an effect probably from the other things. And I didn't want to believe the boy who borrowed a pen from me that one time with a smile like he has was at all capable of violence. For sure not.
Though Carys nodded. "He's been suspended for it multiple times. That and fighting. And some disruptive behaviours, but he kind of dropped that over the past few years. Mostly because he's probably too stoned to interrupt the teacher these days."
I pressed my lips together as I tried to recall his face. He did look a little tired and worse for wear, but, for the most part, he seemed present. He seemed kind. He seemed lucid...
I began to wonder how much of Carys's myth propagation was exactly that: myth. How much really was Harley and how much was the reputation he let people believe? Because everyone is more than the rumours, I thought.
"Well, I just want to see him once more. To be sure I saw wrong."
"You better have seen wrong. I will not under any circumstance let you date Harley."
I scoffed at her. "Date? That's not going to happen."
Though she just stared back at me, a bored gleam to her eyes as though she didn't trust my word.
"Why would a boy with that reputation go for a girl like me? I've never even—" But I caught myself.
"Never what?" she asked, evidently hearing my hesitation.
Eyes turning down, I mumbled, "I've never even kissed anyone."
"Oh, Indi! Me neither, love."
"Yeah, but you're Aromantic. So it doesn't count. I at least dream of romance... even if it will take a special person to be interested in dealing with me."
"Hey, don't do that. You're perfectly capable of being loved by anyone. Even Harley... But just, don't. Take my word for it, Indi... Don't go there."
"You're making mountains out of mole hills here. I'm not even—"
"I don't care if you are or aren't. I need you to promise me you won't go there."
With a final roll of my eyes, I said, "I promise."
Carys held her pinkie out and made me shake on it. "Well," she said between taking a bite of her lunch. "You might be waiting for a bit to see if you were right. Harley has, like, the worst attendance in this school. He shows up a couple of times a term and gets a solid D in everything."
"Why does he come?"
Carys shrugged. "The same reason many in his social circles do: the government demands we're earning or learning. He doesn't have a job, therefore he's legally obligated to be at school."
"But won't he get kicked out if he doesn't pass now that he's in the senior years?"
She gave me a brief nod. "And that will probably make things three hundred times worse for him."
I didn't know what she meant by that, but a part of me figured, if I waited long enough, I'd eventually find out.
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