mean, have you heard anything about Michael’s move here?”
“Wel , sure, let’s see.” I could practical y see Ruth ticking through her internal file folders on every person in the upper school—another one of her secret hobbies. She col ected gossip, but she didn’t spread it. At least, not to anyone other than me. She claimed that she cul ed this information out of necessity rather than true interest; she said that, as we learned in
“His family moved to Til inghast this summer. He plays footbal and is supposedly amazing. That is what the new footbal coach has been saying, anyway. Al the different groups of guys are friendly with him—the footbal players, the soccer guys, even the stoners—but he hasn’t latched on to one group. He seems to prefer his own company, by his choice, not anyone else’s. Oh, and he’s smart. Scary smart, I hear.”
Blush notwithstanding, I plunged back in with the question I real y wanted to ask. “Has he dated anyone?”
“No.” She laughed. “A couple of girls have crushes on him already, but I haven’t heard about him paying any particular attention to anyone.” She paused and smiled at me. “Until now.”
I smiled back. My private little connection with Michael had suddenly become real.
By the end of the week, I’d grown sick of talking about what I should wear on my date. Ruth had torn through my closet in frustration, judging my col ection of dark-colored jeans, cords, sweaters, T-shirts, and tops completely unsuitable. She then steered me through her own closet, with its rarely worn but definitely cooler mix of casual clothes. But none of them worked on my slimmer, tal er body. Desperate, Ruth final y dragged me to the mal —a place my parents frowned upon as a sad temple to materialism—looking for something “date-like,” whatever that meant.
There was only one good thing about Ruth’s mad quest for the perfect date outfit. Between that and my regular schoolwork, I was so distracted that I barely had any time to think about the purpose for al this madness. So by the time 6:30 on Saturday evening rol ed around, and my parents dropped me off in front of the Odeon with eyebrows arched at the fact that Michael didn’t pick me up, I wasn’t even that nervous.
I stood at the Odeon’s doors al by myself watching the clock tick off fifteen minutes. Those fifteen minutes gave me ample time to review al my conversations with Michael and cringe over my awkward comments, to wonder what on earth we’d talk about, and to triple-guess my Ruth-approved outfit. I started to feel so anxious that I wondered if I should leave.
But then Michael rounded the corner. When I saw him wearing a pair of khakis and a button-down, I was glad to have worn the vintage blazer, long-sleeve black J. Crew top, and skinny black pants that Ruth had insisted upon. And I was real y, real y happy that I had stayed.
“I’m so sorry to keep you waiting, El ie,” Michael said as he handed me a beautiful, gold-foil gift bag. “This isn’t an excuse, but I hope it explains my delay.”
I took the bag with a smal , cautious smile. I reached inside and slid out a box of expensive chocolate truffles with a cinnamon center. I couldn’t believe it. Over the course of the week, Michael had casual y asked me about my favorite candy, and I’d named my dream treat. I never imagined that he’d get it for me.
“I can’t believe you remembered.”
“You didn’t tel me how hard these were to come by in Til inghast.”
“I can’t believe you found them in town at al . I’ve only ever had them abroad in duty-free shops when I traveled with my parents for those summer trips.”
He smiled sheepishly. “I didn’t find them in Til inghast exactly.”
“Please don’t tel me that you went too far out of your way.”
“Let’s just say that the gift shop in the big hotel in Bar Harbor carries a real y nice selection of candy.” He took me by the hand and said, “Come on, we don’t want to miss the movie, do we?”
Chapter Eight
The movie and dinner couldn’t have gone better if I’d scripted them myself. The movie was a perfect choice, enough action and philosophy to satisfy us both, but no embarrassing love scenes. I had enough trouble concentrating on the movie given that my arm kept brushing up against Michael’s, without having to deal with some on-screen love interest. The diner where we had burgers and fries afterward seemed somehow transformed into a French bistro straight out of one of the movie scenes. And we talked easily al night.
Over a shared dessert, we playful y debated some more foreign films. As we finished both the chocolate cake and our cheerful dispute, he said,
“God, I’m glad you’re in Til inghast.”
I felt my cheeks burn bright red. I wasn’t sure how to take his statement, so I pushed the chocolate cake crumbs around the plate and said, “You are?”
“I mean it’s so great to find someone in this smal town who’s smart and interested in the world beyond Til inghast. Someone who’s traveled to the same kind of obscure places and who’s dealt with the same kind of single-minded parents.”
The way Michael said “someone” made me hesitate. Was he happy to have found just anyone with whom he could connect? Or was he happy to have found
As if he knew what I was thinking, he said, “I’m so glad to have found you here, of al places. Imagine seeing you again in Til inghast after first meeting you in rural Guatemala.”
I smiled and looked up. “Even if I can’t remember you from Guatemala?” I’d tried and tried to conjure up even one image of him from Guatemala, but couldn’t. It was like a wal in my head that I couldn’t scale or peer around no matter how hard I tried.
He smiled back. “Even if I was forgettable in Guatemala.”
We laughed over my forgetfulness, and I was hugely relieved. Up until now, we’d managed to skirt the issue of Guatemala and my strange amnesia about him. But I’d always felt awkward about it. Not anymore.
As he helped me into my jacket after dinner, I thought about how I loved what I saw in Michael. He was funny,
