Free Birdie by M.C. Carr Page A

this whole time I’ve known you, you pass him in the halls like he’s invisible, you ignore everyone on campus minus yours truly and today it’s like your eyes are superglued.”
    “That obvious?” I ask.
    She nods.
    “I only just realized he’s here,” I explain. “I actually see him every time I go to work at the library. I guess it’s just odd, my school world and my outside world colliding.”
    It was true. I had been sitting on the lawn during lunch (just now realizing we could) reading, and when I glanced up he was standing on the other side of the fountain. Our eyes locked in that moment and I was startled. Yes, he’s close to my age so duh, he probably attends the only high school in the city. The thought never occurred to me. It never mattered. And suddenly for some reason, it does matter because I keep interrupting my reading to glance at him. Quite brazenly, apparently.
    I shrug and take another bite. Lacey watches me warily. “Do you like him? Because Rachel is proactive. She’ll mince your face and serve it in the lunch line.”
    “No,” I answer truthfully. “I think he just reminds me of you. Walking a little left of the herd. I notice those things because I’m usually not in the herd.”
    “That, my friend, you are not,” Lacey agrees settling down beside me. I’m sitting in front of a bench, not on it, because I like the softness of the ground on my butt and the grass tickling my thighs. Lacey slings her elbows back on the seat of the bench, relaxed like this is the epitome of normal, with a huge chunk of Baby Ruth chipmunking her cheek. She chews and smiles. “No you’re not,” she says again around the chocolate and nougat.
     

Wes
     
    The weather is holding . It’s warm enough to eat outside again, over a week now in the wonderful sun. I close my eyes and raise my face into the rays and let it pink my skin.
                  “There she is again,” Rachel mutters beside me. I crack one eye open to scout what she’s referring to. When I see Birdie, I open both of my eyes and glance between her and my girlfriend. Rachel’s face is uncharacteristically frowning. She’s usually in control. Even her snide, bitchy moods are draped in false smiles and smirks.
    “The new girl?” I ask.
    “ Birdie . What kind of a name is that?” Rachel huffs.
    I shrug. “Why are you picking on her all of a sudden?” I notice Lacey sitting by her again. Both girls are hunched over novels. You wouldn’t even know they were keeping each other company except that they both keep dipping absently into a can of nuts. And when Birdie bursts out laughing, Lacey leans over to peer at her book and her lips move in a question.
    Maybe that’s why. Just last week Lacey spent her lunches with us at a window table in the cafeteria when she wasn’t eating with her boyfriend in the library. When I glance back at Rachel to ask, I realize she’s now glaring at me .
    “You’ve been staring at her for a week,” Rachel accuses. “Lacey has been eating lunch with her since she was her guide that first day. The teachers moon over her answers like she’s some fucking genius. What’s so special about her?”
    I single out the piece of her rant that will get me in trouble. “I haven’t been staring at her. Calm down.”
    “Please. If I reach over and grab your crotch, you’d probably have a hard on from just watching her eat her damn lunch.”
    “What the hell is your problem?” I’ve never seen Rachel like this.
    She blows a stray strand from her forehead. “I don’t know.” A quick glance at me causes her to shrug and lighten the storm in her eyes. She sees my irritation and she knows from past experience stoking it only ends badly for her. I find long bouts of solitude comforting and I submerge myself in them if she starts swirling drama around me. Her attempt at freezing me out in a fight early in our relationship backfired on her when she realized after a week and a half that I didn’t