Free Project Pallid by Christopher Hoskins Page A

her
next line.
    “Okay,
Damian.” Her eventual response was a placating one. “I’ll keep my lips zipped
about it. But before I do, let me just say one final thing … ”
    “What,
Mom?”
    “An
instinct is always right. And my instinct says I’ll be hearing a lot
more about this girl, soon enough.”
    “Fine,
Mom. Whatever. Let’s just end it, okay? Are we done now?”
    “We’re
finished, Damian.”
    “Good.”
    “Great.”
    “Excellent,”
she turned, smiled, and laughed.
    “Magnificent.”
    “Splendid!
    “Perfect!!”
I laughed. “Period. Done!”
    We
ended the conversation there, but true to instinct, she was right. Moms
generally are. What began as a simple invitation to share a locker would grow
exponentially, and in short time, Catee would embed herself so deeply in my
heart that there’ll be no getting her out—ever.
    And
my mom’s instinct, as attuned as it was to issues of love, proved equally
ill-equipped to see her own train begin its derailment from the tracks. As much
as she prided herself in the power of instinct, that same insight eluded her
when it came time to choose her allegiances.
    Instinct,
logic, and rationality abandoned her when she left us all behind.

September
10 th:

 
    That
first weekend of the school year was the longest I’d ever been through. They’d
always passed so quickly before then, racing by to Monday morning when, like
clockwork, Mom would fight me from bed in time for the bus. But after an
endless weekend of anticipation, that Monday morning was different.
    For
one of the first and only times, I woke before my alarm. And I was actually waiting
for the bus instead of racing down the street to catch it. Something had
changed in me, and I was actually excited for school. In spite of all the crap
that came with it, I knew there was something good waiting inside its
judgmental walls: there was possibility, promise, and Catee.
    I
thought I might finally have a place in Madison High and that whatever
chemistry we’d developed in week one, would only flourish from there. And
despite my mom’s words playing their own, small part in my revelation, it was
the weekend to myself and alone with my thoughts, that brought me to the
single, obvious conclusion my heart had suggested from the start.
    Of
course, I had no intention of telling Catee how I was feeling back then. I
wouldn’t have known the first place to start. We’d only met a week before and
saying what I was feeling would’ve only come across creepy. And in my weekend
of rumination, I decided to keep everything to myself for a while longer and to
feel her out more before I made any move toward something more substantial. I
needed to see if she made any more moves my way. Sure, the locker was a first
sign, but she could’ve just been being nice—her instant popularity
suggested the explanation was totally within reason.
    As
I saw it, I didn’t have any choice but to sit back, at least for a bit, to see
how she acted around me—to see if she made any moves, or gave any signs
for me to make mine on her. The eternal weekend of thoughtful planning brought
me to a single, definitively passive course of action: I’d stick by Catee like
glue, and I’d give her every possible chance to make her intentions known.

 
    I
ran into her in the lobby, before homeroom bell. She was with a group of girls
… and Justin, who lurked on the perimeter of her cluster, just behind her and outside
her circle. My mind worked to rationalize the situation, but it was helpless to
stop my body from pushing forward and into the cluster, brushing by him in the
process.
    “Hey,
Damian!” Catee was quick to acknowledge my arrival, and I appreciated the instant
reception. A flash of worry crossed my mind about what would happen if she’d
said nothing at all, leaving me awkwardly standing in a group of girls who I
didn’t know, like some out-of-place screwball who’d lost his way.
    She
introduced me to everyone, but I forgot each