When Monday English rolled around, again, I was one of the first to arrive. And when Harley rocked up, late as usual, this time, as I turned in my seat to hand him a pen, he already was pulling one out of his bag.
His gaze didn't even meet mine as I studied his face.
Instead, he noted down the title at the top of his page, seeming to do everything he could to ignore me.
My words last Friday echoed in my head. You and I aren't friends.
At once, the vibrancy to his body began to dull slightly. Not much. Not enough. But enough to make a difference.
I faced forward in my seat, feeling my heart sink at his sudden distance. I wanted to apologise, to tell him I spoke too soon without thinking.
But, if Harley was being standoffish with me, wasn't this for the best? Surely if he was being rude to me, I could find the strength within myself to get over this stupid crush.
Each day started to repeat this new pattern across that week. No longer did I give a pen to Harley when he sat behind me in English. No longer did we share smiles when we passed each other on the school grounds. And no longer did he take the spot next to me on the bus... when he was on it.
So, when Saturday rolled around and Carys and I sat cross legged on my bed in our pjs, relishing in my first sleepover ever, I finally admitted to her, "He's dimming."
"Huh?" she asked, head turning slightly my way, though eyes still glued to the screen as she brought a popcorn kernel to her mouth.
"Harley. He's losing his colour."
At once, Carys leaned over, fingers slamming against the spacebar before she turned to give me her undivided attention. "What? Why? How? And... congrats?"
I started at the beginning... at last Friday. I told her about our encounter sharing music on the bus. About the moment I felt we were having. Until I royally messed it up.
"Oh," was all she said when I wrapped up the story with his distance this week.
"Oh? That's it? That's all you've got?"
"This is what you wanted, right?"
I snagged my bottom lip between my teeth as I gave her a hesitant nod.
"Then what else is there to say?"
Shrugging, I turned my head to my lap.
"Oh, Indi... It's because you don't want to stop liking him, right?"
"Basically... I like the feeling of it all."
"But do you? Is it really that great liking someone from afar and never having them?"
"I like when it's just us though on the bus... I don't know how to explain it, but sitting there, sharing music, and just being lost in our world felt amazing. There was this connection between us. This sense of understanding of not wanting to talk about our burdens, but also knowing how to comfort each other."
I turned to look at her when she didn't say anything after I finished speaking.
"What?" I asked, not liking the look in her eyes.
"Oh, honey... you've got it really bad."
With a groan, I fell against the bed, eyes searching my ceiling. "But it's fading."
"And you wanted this, remember?"
"Yeah, but... now I don't want it."
"It will come again. With the next guy."
"But what if it doesn't? What if this was my one chance at colour?"
"That's not how life works, Indi. You don't just get one shot at love and then—"
"But this isn't love we are talking about. It's colour. What if we are wrong and it has nothing to do with my feelings and more to do with Harley?"
"If it's not your feelings, then why are they fading now that he's being distant?"
"Because maybe they are only strong when we are close. And maybe he's the only one that will ever happen with."
"I know you like to think that the colour and feeling thing might not be linked. But I think it is. And all I know is, from what I've read, first love can feel like it's the only thing that matters in this world. That you can never find something quite like it again. And, you know, I think there's truth to that. You can't ever replace that innocence of the first time you fall for someone. Next time, you're just much more wary. Next time, you know that things do end and you look for the signs, while, the first time, you don't know what those signs even look like. But you will find love again, Indi. Not the same. Not as innocent. Maybe not as intense. But you will."
"And what would you know? You don't even believe in—"
"I believe romance and love exists. I just don't want it or feel it myself."
I kept my lips pressed together, wary of whether another blurted comment would upset her.
She rested a hand on my arm as she softly said, "It's a good thing, Indi. Maybe scary. Maybe not what you want. But it's good, okay? And, with time, the pain of losing your crush will go away."
"I guess," I breathed.
•❃°•°❀°•°❃•
Though, when Monday rolled around, I was shocked to walk into English to find some male teacher I didn't recognise.
Reluctantly taking my seat, another in the class asked what we were all thinking. "Where's Miss Fitzgerald?"
"She's out for the week," the replacement teacher replied.
"Is she sick?" someone asked.
"I don't know. I'm sure you can ask her when she gets back. What I do know, though, is that you've been left some work, so if you could take one of these and pass them around."
Sheets of paper began to get handed out, and, on cue, the door opened, Harley Brooks stepping into the room.
"Sorry I'm late Mi... Sir?" he said.
The sub's eyes narrowed as he looked Harley up and down. "Take a seat. You can make up the time with me at lunch."
"What?"
"No negotiations. Sit."
"But you haven't even started the lesson."
"What's your name, boy?"
Harley's brows narrowed as he squared up the teacher. "George," he said back.
A few in the class tried—and failed—to stifle their giggles
"Well, George, if you continue to interrupt this class, I'll call for a HoD that you can talk to. I'm sure they will also be familiar with your real name."
Harley heaved a frustrated sigh before snatching a spare sheet from the pile that had made its way back to the front. Then he stormed past the desks, past me, before pulling up his usual spot.
Just like last week, he never asked for my pen. Again, he had one already that he fished from his bag. And, again, my mind wondered, if he were capable of bringing a pen, why did he ask for one from me all this time?
Because maybe it was part of the friendship thing, my mind whispered. Maybe he also didn't know how to talk to you...
Bullshit, I thought back. Harley is capable of talking to anyone. He wouldn't need a pen as an excuse to talk to me. Besides, he never actually used it at a conversation point.
"Okay, Year Eleven. I'm going to give you twenty minutes to complete that top section of the sheet, then we're going to come together for the answers. I expect full sentence responses. You need to read through the information sheet and answer all questions as best as you can. You may start."
At once, my eyes began to scan through the words, and, for the most part, it was easy.
Until I reached the final question.
My brows furrowed as I studied the diagram, looking for a pattern that may make it easier to read. Then I went through the surrounding text again, hopeful that interpretations of the diagram might appear there that I could use to help. But again, I came out blank.
Eventually the twenty minutes were up, and the teacher began calling on people at random.
And, as you'd expect, to my dismay, on the last question he said, "Indigo?"
"Sorry, sir, but I didn't answer that one," I said softly, eyes falling downwards.
"Why not? Everyone else has, and it's the easiest one. You just have to look at the diagram and describe it."
"Well, I struggled with it. Ask anyone else."
"But I'm asking you. Quickly look at it now and have a go."
My eyes scanned over the page, dancing over the legend at the bottom of the graph. Various lines of same thicknesses and textures displayed down the bottom with different labels.
"Today, Indigo," the teacher said. "What does the blue line say?"
"I...." I stuttered, feeling the eyes on me. Feeling my face begin to heat up. "I can't see the line."
"It's the blue one. Not the orange, not the purple, the blue one."
I was about to start reading out plot points to discern which was which, too scared to admit in front of everyone that the real problem here was that I couldn't see the colour.
But then a voice behind me said, "Two hundred, sir."
"I didn't ask you," the teacher said, eyes glaring at Harley behind me. "I asked Indigo."
"Well, I got bored of waiting. Can we move on?"
I began to feel my heart crushing further in me to hear Harley's disdain for my disability holding up the class. I bowed my head over my paper as my eyes began to sting.
I vaguely heard the teacher outline the next part of our task, but all I could focus on was my page slowly starting to blur as my vision became impaired by the pooling water.
"Sir," that same, familiar voice behind me said. "Can I move to the row ahead? I'd like to work with Indi on this next part."
"You haven't shown any care for your peers thus far, showing up late and calling out. Why would you now want to—"
"Indi and I normally work together. Did Miss not leave that in her notes?"
I wanted to ask why he was doing this.
I wanted to tell him to stay where he was.
But all of that meant looking up. Meant speaking. And if I did that, people would see how much that embarrassing debacle before had taken its toll on me.
"Very well," the substitute teacher sighed.
My ears tuned into the sounds of Harley packing up his things behind me as he moved out of his seat and came around, taking the chair next to me instead.
"Either Miss Fitzgerald is dangerously sick or someone has died in her family, because she'd never forget to leave a note about her students needing help with specific things," Harley's soft voice said as he leaned close to me.
But I merely shrugged before letting my hair fall over my face, creating a curtain between us.
Though he wouldn't have it.
Hand reaching out, he pulled the sheet that was covered in droplets of my tears from beneath me, moving it across the desk until it was between us.
"Okay, part two... what does it say..." he said, trying to sound lively and enthusiastic, which was honestly not fitting for him. Never did I see him put this much effort into his work. "I'm definitely going to need your help here, Gadget. I only just scraped through on my answers on the last part."
At once, my head snapped up as I turned to look at him, mouth falling open in shock.
He glanced my way, giving me a warm, sympathetic smile before turning back to the sheet, pretending to care more about it.
But my heart continued to thud as the colour slowly filled up his almost greyscale being, lighting him up all over once again.
Because he had acknowledged me.
He had smiled at me.
And he called me Gadget again... did he forgive me?
"I'm sorry for saying we aren't friends," I softly croaked.
I watched his eyebrows knot together for a moment before he shook his head, forcing a smile onto his face. "It's my fault for assuming." Though he kept studying the page as though he were reading it... But we both knew he wasn't.
"You didn't assume wrong. I just have a really bad case of foot-in-mouth disease."
A genuine grin took hold of his face as he finally turned his vibrant eyes my way. "Now why are you putting your feet in your mouth, Indi? That's gross."
Rolling my eyes, I raised the collar of my shirt to dab away the tears on my face. "It's a saying, you noob."
"You're a noob."
"Wow. What a comeback. You got me there."
"Hey, I'm not the one who used 'noob' as my number one insult in the first place."
A giggle escaped my mouth as we shared a soft glance at each other. This time, Harley broke eye contact first.
"I missed your pens. Lara's aren't as good."
"Don't let your girlfriend hear that."
He shrugged. "She deserves it for getting Papermate ones. I prefer your Sharpie pens." He glanced back up at me, his words almost hovering between us as though they had another meaning.
"I thought you prefer Papermate..."
His brows knotted together. "Maybe Papermate is all that I'd be able to afford if I ever bought my own pens... But how could they ever compare to your Sharpies?"
"Oh my gosh, it's just a pen," Harley's friend behind us groaned before I could read too far into what he was saying. If there was anything to read into.
At once, we both turned around to glare at him.
"Both of you get on with your work before you get in trouble again. Harley, you can't afford another suspension... they'll kick you out this time."
With a sigh, Harley turned forward in his seat, going straight back to his work.
And, slowly, I faced around too, reading over the sheet. "Bet you wish you skipped today?" I asked him.
He shook his head. "I can't skip anymore. They said if I don't maintain an eighty per cent attendance rate this year, then I'll be kicked out. And given how frequently I wagged first term..."
"Oh... I thought you were coming to school because of Lara."
His head slowly turned upwards, glancing at me again, this time in shock. "Why on earth would I come for her?"
"Because she's your girlfriend?" I asked like it were obvious.
"Sure, but... we don't share any classes."
"None?"
He shook his head.
"Well, you see her at lunch."
"Yeah... but I also live in the same neighbourhood now. It's not like school is the best place to hook up anyway, so... I'd rather be at her house in her bed." He turned back to the sheet, trying again to read through the questions.
But I started to pick at a fleck of skin on my lips, my mind automatically thinking about him and her... in her room... alone.
"Sorry," he mumbled.
My eyes flickered his way again, though his gaze was fixated on the sheet. "What for?"
"For... giving you a terrible image of me bedding some girl," he grinned at me. "Sure you don't want that vision haunting your nightmares."
Not when it's you and her... my heart sighed. "It's a very gross thought," I tried to joke back.
Though I almost thought I saw a hint of sadness clouding his eyes.
Nonetheless, I ignored it, turning back to the sheet. "I don't mean to alarm you," I started, "But we have ten minutes left to get this done."
"Fuck," he whispered.
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