if there's a way

WAYLON MCALLISTER

When I was ten, I met a boy.

          It was mid-November, but I couldn’t tell you what day.

          Lunchtime had arrived, and Mason and I were among the first wave of students to reach the cafeteria. Trays loaded, we sat at our usual table by the windows overlooking the courtyard.

          Winter had come early that year, I remember, having already snuffed out the sun, filtering the open space of the cafeteria in cinematic blues and grays as the first snowfall sat heavily in the sky.

          I don’t recall what Mason and I were talking about when Izzy finally joined us, her purple lunchbox a swinging pendulum in her hand and an unfamiliar boy on her heels.

          Dull blond hair.

          Blue eyes.

          Freckles.

          Mouth pinched at the corners as if he was biting the inside of his cheek… 

          Nervous.

          He looked nervous…       

          “This is Will Foster. He’s new here. Be nice.”

          Mason grumbles out a protest as she quickly introduces us.

          “I wasn’t talking to you,” she says, before turning those fiery brown eyes on me. They glow almost red as they level me with a warning. They always do that when she’s angry or excited about something. Which is, like, ninety-nine percent of the time.

          I roll my eyes. “Whatever.”

          Ignoring the new kid, I dig into what’s left of my cold, soggy pizza. It tastes like cardboard. Not for the first time, I wish I could get seconds and somehow sneak it out of here without anyone noticing. Save it for later. The chances of my dad cooking dinner have become slim to none in the last year. I guess he figures now that I’m tall enough to reach the freezer and microwave, I can fend for myself.

          Problem is, you need groceries for that, and I’m lucky if he goes shopping more than once a month.

          “Hey.”

          In the corner of my eye, I see the chair next to me pull out. I ignore him, hoping he gets the hint I don’t want to be bothered. I just want to enjoy my crappy pizza and get this day done and over with so I can go read by the tree until my dad comes to pick me up.

          “That book made me sob like a baby.”

          Blinking, I first glance over to the new kid before following his narrowed gaze to where my book sits face down between our lunches.

          A wave of self-consciousness washes over me and I quickly grab the book, shoving it under my thighs. I forgot I left it out. I usually don’t care when it’s just the three of us, but now there’s this stranger intruding on my space. I don’t like it. They’re my friends, not his.

          I grumble under my breath and hunch down, nibbling on the corner of my crust.

          “What was that?”

          I huff out a sigh. “I said boys aren’t supposed to cry.”

          “Says who?”

          “My dad. He says only sissies cry.” I shoot him a pointed look. “Are you a sissy?”

          He shakes his head with a constipated look on his face. “No.”

          “Good.” I tear off a chunk of pizza with my teeth.

          A glance at the clock shows that we have about twenty minutes left. Great.

          “But you know that’s bullshit, right?”

          I start coughing, nearly choking. Turning slightly, I bug my eyes out at him.

          “My dad cried when my grandpa died,” he goes on, a strangely sharp lilt attaching to his words. “And he ain’t a fuckin’ sissy.”

          I wipe my mouth and flick my gaze across the table. Mason and Izzy are bent over sheet music, voices hushed as they talk amongst themselves. Probably obsessing over whatever piano solos they’re working on for their winter recital.

          They’re not paying us a bit of attention.

          Shoving my tray away, I turn so I’m facing the new boy head-on. “You talk weird.”

          “You talk weirder,” he says, glaring back at me, chin jutting out proudly.

          We stare unblinkingly at one another, caught in an unspoken stand-off as we wait for the other to break first. This time, I have no choice but to really look at him.

          At Will.

          He’s got a… soft face. Unlike mine that is all sharp edges and hollow cheeks. He’s not as pale as me either. Sunny. He looks sunny.

          But it’s his eyes that catch my attention more than anything. I’ve never seen blue eyes so dark. Like a stormy sky. Like the raging sea.

          They’re… nice. 

          He grins suddenly like something just occurred to him.

          “What?” I ask suspiciously, wondering if he somehow read my mind. My neck feels hot. Tingly.

          “You’re Way.”

          Way, I think. He called me Way. 

          “And you’re Will,” I say slowly, wondering if this kid is what my dad would call a retard. I don’t really like that word, but it’s the one that pops into my head all the same. 

          “Where there’s a will, there’s a way,” he says, like it’s obvious.

          I scrunch up my face. “What?”

          “Grams says that a lot.” He reaches for the bottle of water stuffed into his lunch bag. “Lots of old people do. I don’t know if I know what it means, but it has our names, so that’s cool, right?” He tilts his head, causing some of that wild blond hair to spill over his face as he gives me a sideways glance. He needs a haircut, I think.

          Then again, so do I. 

          “I think it means we’re supposed to be best friends.”

          I blink. “Why?”

          Unbothered by my attitude, he just smiles before taking a big bite of his sandwich. Still chewing, he says, “Because we go together. Like two peas in a pod, you know?” He waves his bitten sandwich, not even caring crumbs are sticking to his lips. “Like PB&J.”

          Who the heck is this kid?

          Turning away from him, I pick at the edges of my crust, no longer hungry. 

          My eyes flick up to my friends. Mason has that look on his face again as he watches Izzy talk. She wiggles in her seat in that way she does when she’s really going on about something. 

          I don’t know why it makes me sad, but watching them has made me sad for a while now.

           I remember what Izzy told me before school started. How she was going to make Mason her boyfriend this year. At the time, I just laughed. But if the way he’s been watching her these last couple months is anything to go by, maybe her crush isn’t totally one-sided.

          And if that happens, where does that leave me? 

          Maybe my dad’s right. Maybe they only put up with me because they have to.

          “What’s wrong?”

          I drag my gaze to Will. I almost forgot he was here. “Nothing.”

          His nose wrinkles, like he smells something bad. I hope it’s not me. My dad was in one of his quiet moods last night, so I went to sleep early, skipping a shower. 

          “What?” I ask sharply.

          Something about his face seems to soften just before his mouth lifts in a small, crooked grin. “Nothing.”

          I study him a moment longer, wondering if he’s mocking me. I don’t feel like he’s making fun of me, but I still don’t get what his deal is. Did no one else want to sit with him for lunch? Did no one else want to be his friend? 

          He’s weird, sure, but it’s not like he’s ugly or anything. He looks like one of the popular kids. I bet he plays football. He looks like he’d play some kind of sport. 

          “Why are you being so nice to me?” I blurt before I can stop myself.

          His brows shoot up.

          My neck is on fire now, and I fight the urge to sink down into my hoodie like a turtle.

          “Why wouldn’t I be?” he says, sounding genuinely put out about it.

          I swallow the lump in my throat, darting another look across the table. Mason and Izzy are still lost in their own world—one filled with music and long, secret looks when the other’s not watching.

          “Want one?”

          Frowning, I turn to Will to find him shaking a bag of chocolate chip cookies at me.

          I bounce my gaze suspiciously between what’s in his hands and his shy grin. Does he never stop smiling? I wonder.

          “Grams made them,” he says, like that means something to me.

          This time I have to force my throat to work as I swallow what feels like rocks lodged in my throat. I know I should say no. He’ll only think we’re friends now if I take one, and I really don’t want that.

          At least, I don’t think I do. 

          A cramp forms in my belly as I start to shake my head. I don’t like this feeling, I don’t—

          Will’s face drops and he looks away. “Oh. Okay.” 

          He’s no longer smiling.

          He looks… sad.

          I did that. 

          And something just… bursts inside me. My skin feels too hot, too tight, and it makes me think of that scene in Willy Wonka when Violet eats the blueberry gum. I feel like I’m going to explode. Pop from whatever this feeling is.

          I know I shouldn’t, I can’t, but I... 

          I want.

          I want— 

          “Yes,” I blurt loud enough to cause Mason and Izzy to pause mid-conversation. 

          I fix my glare on my near-empty tray, hating the three sets of eyes crawling over my skin.

          Invisible. I wish I was invisible.

          I wish, I wish, I wish— 

          “You guys want some?” Will asks brightly, drawing their attention. 

          I hear the baggy rustle and murmured thanks, and then there’s a cookie appearing in front of me, pinched between two tanned fingers. There’s a scab just on the side of his thumb, and I kind of want to ask what happened. 

          But I don’t. 

          Instead I just take the offered cookie with a quietly uttered thank you and focus on anything but the boy with the ocean blue eyes and sunny smile. 

          Mason and Izzy go back to talking about whatever it is they’re talking about, while Will and I finish our cookies in silence. It’s the best cookie I ever had. Even better than the ones Izzy’s mom, Eva, makes. 

          Unable to help myself, I finally peek a glance through my lashes, only to catch Will turning away at the last possible second. 

          And then it happens again. 

          And again.

          It becomes a sort of game then as we continue to sneak glances at one another. At first I don’t realize he’s doing it on purpose, until I catch his mouth twitching, and the laugh shaking his shoulders.

          I don’t know when I start smiling too. A small, fragile thing that feels as foreign as the weird flappy feeling in my chest. Like my heart’s a bird, banging its wings against its cage.

          Maybe I won’t burst.

          Maybe I’ll just float away instead.

          Maybe I’ll fly into the night sky like Peter Pan. 

          Will seems to go very still suddenly just as he cocks his head my way. His eyes crinkle as they drop down to my cheek, and a strange look passes over his face, so quick I nearly miss it. 

          I sigh. “What now?” 

          A grin lights up his face as his eyes lift to mine once more. “Nothing.”

          I scowl. 

          “Are you always this grumpy?” he wonders. There’s no heat to his question, just curiosity. 

          “I’m not grumpy,” I mutter. 

          “Yes, he is,” Izzy speaks up. 

          I glare across the table. 

          She smiles sheepishly as Mason laughs. 

          “I hate all of you,” I say. 

          They snicker, turning back to their own conversation.

          Huffing in annoyance, I flick my eyes to Will. He’s smirking like he knows something I don’t. But before I can demand he spit out whatever it is, he waves another cookie in my face. 

          Clamping down on my teeth, I rip the cookie out of his hand. I can feel my face heat, too, now as I duck down in my seat.

          Will chuckles, but unlike me, he doesn’t point out how weird I am. Despite how much of a jerk I’ve been to him.

          A few silent minutes later, the bell rings, signaling lunch is over. 

          Once we’ve all cleaned up and begin to file out of the cafeteria, I notice Will lingering by my side. 

          “Thanks for letting me sit with you.”

          I want to tell him I didn’t let him do anything, but for once I bite my tongue. 

          Just as we go to part ways outside of the cafeteria, with him several feet in front of me, he pauses to look over his shoulder. 

          He has that expression on his face again. The one I can’t place. The one that makes my chest feel all light and strange. He’s smiling… but it’s somehow more. It feels important, but I don’t know why. I just know I can’t look away. 

          Other kids bump into me, glaring and muttering my way as they walk past. I didn’t realize I stopped. 

          There’s a weird whooshing noise in my ears, like the river rushing by after it gets flooded. It seems to block out every other sound around me. All but his voice as he gives me a small wave. 

          “See ya ‘round, Way.” 

          He doesn’t wait for a response before turning and walking off, disappearing around the corner. 

          I tell myself that’s the last time I’ll ever speak to Will Foster. 

          I tell myself I have nothing to worry about. That by the end of the week, I’m sure I’ll be long forgotten, replaced by someone better to call his best friend. Someone nicer and happier and cooler than me. 

          Today meant nothing. Just random chance. 

          He’ll be no different than any other kid in my class. Another boy out of the dozens I don’t talk to. I have Izzy and Mason, and even if one day they decide they no longer want me, at least I’m already prepared. 

          I don’t need anyone else. 

          I especially don’t need him... 

          Or these flippy feelings in my chest when I think about those stupid ocean blue eyes.