In the Middle of Nowhere Page 2

  By mid-October, the ferryboat ride to school was even colder than I ever could have imagined. I zipped up my Down North Face jacket all the way to my nose and huddled against the window directly under one of the heating vents. I still was unable to warm up on the inside, no matter how many layers I piled on the outside.

  The first month and a half of school passed without much excitement. I was doing well in my courses because all I did in my free time was study since my social life was completely non-existent.

  Thank God for the Internet and FunForum.com where I could connect online with three of my best friends back in Massachusetts. Our friendships began when we were just seven years old and stuck in the same second grade class. It continued to blossom throughout middle school, right on into high school. Secretly, we called ourselves the “Fab Four.” We were very close and knew everything about each other. We weren’t in the popular group like some of the other girls, but we knew we could count on one another. At the end of the day, we always had each other’s backs.

  Luckily, all three of my friends and I had computers with built-in cameras. We would all sign on to FunForum at the same time and chat for hours on end. It was my salvation while living on the cold and lonely island.

  I had told the girls about Michael Cooper and his creepiness back in September, about how he tried to friend me on MyWeb and how I had deleted his request.

  Gabby had commented first. “Give him a chance, Willow. He looks kinda cute in his profile picture.”

  “Yeah, cute if you’re into devil worshipping!” Sarah chimed in. Everybody had laughed, except for me.

  Becca sensed my unhappiness and tried to take control of the situation. “Stop it, guys! We need to support Willow and whatever choices she makes, even it’s embarking on a relationship with the spawn of Satan.” The girls laughed, even Becca.

  I was pissed and threw them my middle finger. “Ha ha. Very funny.”

  Becca leaned forward and kissed her camera. “This one’s for Willow only. I’m sorry, friend.”

  “Seriously. I told you guys that I don’t like him and I haven’t even seen him anywhere in school since he wrote me that note over a week ago.”

  “Maybe he dropped out …” Gabby had trailed off as she picked remnants of bright pink polish off her fingernails.

  “Or maybe he’s in the witness protection program or working as a spy for some secret agency,” Sarah had suggested.

  “Give me a break!” I had snapped. “You guys should talk. None of you have boyfriends, unless you consider making out with Pete and getting groped every Saturday night in your basement a relationship, Sarah.”

  This time Sarah was not amused. “Pete and I are strictly friends with benefits and neither of us is interested in taking our relationship any further,” she huffed.

  I heard my mother’s footsteps coming. I should have been studying.

  “Here comes my mom. Gotta go!” I had said before slamming my laptop closed.

  As my body swayed with the waves that rocked and rolled the ferry, I reflected on the conversation with my friends. They were either being rude or jealous. I wasn’t sure which. After I had signed off with my friends that night and had finished studying, I checked out Michael’s pics on MyWeb.

  He didn’t look like Satan. Granted he only wore black clothes, from his hoodie to his sneakers and his thick, long hair reminded me of black licorice, but his dark eyes, which were piercing at times, also came across as soft and thoughtful.

  He had thick, manly eyebrows and looked far older than fifteen. There was a subtle hint of mischief in every one of his smiles, whether he was performing a jump on his BMX bike or cuddling with the family dog.

  Michael was tall and skinny, at least six feet, and did have somewhat of a Gothic appearance, as his skin was very pale. But he also had perfectly straight white teeth, full lips and a nice nose; not too big, not too small and a cute little cleft right in the middle of his chin.

  When I really thought about it, I realized that Michael Cooper was kinda cute, but his weird note that morning just pushed me over the edge. It didn’t matter anyway. He still hadn’t come back to school and it had been almost a month.

  I breathed the warm air from inside my jacket and glanced around the boat. To the left of me I recognized a classmate from school named Shawna. She was in my homeroom and seemed nice and kind of nerdy. I thought she might know something.

  I sat up straight and cleared my throat. “Excuse me,” I said as I turned toward her.

  Shawna looked at me and pointed to herself. “Who, me?”

  “Yes, you. Do you by any chance happen to know what happened to that boy who was in our homeroom in the beginning of the year?”

  As soon as I finished asking her, I regretted it.

  “Which boy?”

  “Michael. Michael Cooper.”

  Shawna nodded, leaned toward me and whispered. “I heard that Michael Cooper was very sick and almost died.”

  I was shocked and my face must have showed it. I was speechless.

  Shawna pushed her glasses further up her pointy nose and continued. “Guess he ended up in the hospital and had to stay in there for a long time.”

  She sat back and shrugged. “That’s all I know. Haven’t heard much about him since. To tell you the truth, I don’t even know if he’s alive.”

  Shawna looked out the window as if she had just given me a brief weather report, while I sat there stunned, my jaw practically hitting the icy ferryboat floor, and not understanding why when I didn’t know enough about Michael Cooper to even care.

  • • •

  As soon as I got home from school, I rushed to my room and signed on to my computer to look up Michael on MyWeb. Maybe there was an update about his whereabouts or an explanation of why he wasn’t in school. I couldn’t believe what Shawna told me or, more importantly, how she told me. She seemed so nonchalant about his well-being, didn’t even know whether or not he was alive. So much for nice and nerdy.

  I typed in his name, but because I wasn’t friends with him, the information I got was very limited. It only listed his hometown, school, age and other irrelevant facts. It also showed a quote under his picture, which indicated it was written by M.E.C. I assumed it was by him. The quote puzzled me. It read: “Live for today, for tomorrow may never come.”

  Despite the fact that I had deleted Michael’s request to be friends with me a month earlier, I decided to request him as a friend this time. I steadied my cursor over the friend button, but hesitated. Do it, I thought to myself. Why not? He already tried to friend me first and I had absolutely nothing to lose. I pinched my eyes shut and quickly clicked on the button.

  I did it, but figured, what was the point now? The kid could be holed up in some hospital bed for all I knew and not have access to a computer. Or, better yet, what if he were too sick to even use a computer? What was I thinking trying to friend a guy who, up until Shawna told me he might be dead, I didn’t even give a damn about?

  I closed the top of my computer and climbed off my bed. I stood in front of my floor length mirror and looked at myself. What did Michael see in me? Why did he send me that note? Did he do it to all the girls and what did his poem even mean? It had said something about me facing my fears.

  I studied my reflection and wasn’t too disappointed. I inherited my mom’s turned up, lightly freckled Irish nose as well as her olive complexion. My dad always said I had his mother’s big, expressive eyes, colored dark blue like his. I already had dark, thick eyelashes and only put on eyeliner and mascara for special occasions.

  My naturally highlighted, chestnut hair had a subtle wave to it if I let it air dry, but I preferred it to be straight and would use my flat iron whenever possible. If I were running late, I’d keep my curls and just throw my hair up on top of my head in a messy bun.

  I was only 5’4” and had to be careful of what I ate. I had a pretty fast metabolism, but was afraid it would slow down at any minute and I’d become overweight.
I don’t know why I believed this since no one in my family had a weight problem. I think I saw it once on some talk show or infomercial and didn’t want to take the chance. Either way I thought it best to eat healthy, yet not deny myself junk food once in a while. I was a teenager, after all.

  I wasn’t stick thin like some of the girls in my grade or perfectly curvy in all the right places like Tessa Anderson. I had average-sized breasts, a smaller waist, regular hips and an ample behind. I turned to review my rear. I was definitely built like a young woman and relatively attractive compared to a lot of other girls in my school. Wholesome. That’s what my grandmother always said about me. I looked wholesome. It didn’t sound cool to be considered wholesome. It sounded more like a curse.

  Just then my computer dinged, alerting me that I had a new e-mail message. I hopped on my bed, twirled my laptop around and searched. I had over twenty unread e-mail messages from before and figured that I must have gotten a new one. From what I could tell, all of them were spam. I was ready to delete all the junk mail when one at the very bottom caught my eye. The subject line read: “Thought you’d never ask,” and was attached to a friendship acceptance from one Michael E. Cooper.

  CHAPTER

  FIVE

  The autumn colors that became the landscape of the island were warm and soothing, but the loneliness I sometimes felt from living there still resided deep within me. Golden yellows, burnt reds and bright oranges were just a few of the hues that adorned the giant oaks and maples. As I walked back home from the dock, the towering trees bent with the chilly November winds as their colorful leaves fell effortlessly to the ground and danced all around me.

  Most days I had to walk the half a mile home after the ferryboat dropped me and the other kids off at the pier. Some days, though, when my mom didn’t have to work at my brother’s school, she’d wait in her car and give me a ride home.

  It seemed as though my family was getting into a routine and settling into our new home, into our new lives. My brother James said he was happy at his new school and quickly made a handful of energetic buddies just like him. Luckily, most of these boys lived in nearby neighborhoods, so he could ring their doorbells after school, run outside and play until dusk.

  My mother seemed more content with her new job and once in a while, I’d catch glimpses of my old mom, the one I missed, the one I remembered from before my father’s death. Her only wish was that she could start working full-time so she’d be able to save some money for the three of us.

  It seemed as if all I did was go to school, come home, study, eat dinner, study some more, go to bed and repeat the same routine the next day. As settled as I may have begun to feel, it wasn’t turning out to be a whole lot of fun.

  Whenever I had free time I would try to reconnect with Becca, Sarah and Gabby via the Internet or chat on the phone with one or, if possible, all of them. Lately, though, I felt as if my best friends were distancing themselves from me. They all promised they would come for a visit and stay with me over a long weekend, but it had been almost two months and not one of them had made any attempt. The “Fab Four” seemed to be fizzling fast.

  I wasn’t sure if it was purposeful or simply because they were continuing with their lives and other friendships so many miles away. I, too, really had no choice but to carry on with mine, even if I had to do it alone in the middle of the Atlantic.

  A few times, during school, I hung out with two girls who were in both my study hall and my lunch wave. Erica and Taylor were best friends and had grown up together on Pike’s Island. Erica was Italian and had a head full of tight, black curls and a pretty, dark complexion. Taylor had shocking red hair and white, almost translucent skin. Erica was short, while Taylor was tall. Even though they looked like complete opposites, Erica and Taylor were as close as two friends could be.

  Every now and then, the two of them would fill me in on little tidbits of gossip that occurred in school or back home on the island. I tried to act like I wasn’t interested, but my ears perked up whenever I found myself around the two of them.

  “Did you hear about Tessa Anderson and Connor Finch?” Erica asked one day in the cafeteria, as she slid her lunch tray toward Taylor and me.

  Taylor looked around nervously. “Shhh,” she said. “You’re so loud.”

  Erica plopped down across from us, leaned forward and whispered. “Sorry.”

  Dying from curiosity, Taylor flung her upper body on top of the lunch table. “So … what happened?”

  Erica spoke so softly that I had no choice but to lean in, too. “I guess they got caught having sexual relations in the back of Connor’s car during lunch yesterday.”

  I slowly nodded. “Really?”

  Taylor added, “Very interesting.”

  Erica sat back and smiled like the Cheshire cat. “Guess he didn’t like the food choices in the cafeteria and wanted to eat his own special version of take-out instead.”

  A visual of Connor and Tessa in the back seat of his Beemer popped into my head and I cringed. “Ewwww.”

  “I second that,” Taylor said as she took a big bite of her pizza. “Although, he really is hot.”

  Erica scanned the room. “I guess Michael Cooper is back to school again, for how long? Who knows?”

  I shot up. “He is? Where?”

  Erica looked at me suspiciously. “Why do you care?”

  “Just wondered,” I said, trying to sound casual as I sipped my iced tea.

  “You got the hots for him or something, Willow?” Taylor teased.

  “Not at all,” I lied.

  I suddenly felt nervous and could tell my face was turning red. Abruptly, I stood and grabbed my empty lunch tray. “Gotta go! Gonna head to the library and finish up my history paper.”

  Without any further explanation, I quickly turned and fled and could distinctly feel both of them staring after me as I did.

  • • •

  I walked through the halls toward the library in a state of confusion. Why did Erica say Michael was back in school? I knew for certain that he wasn’t in homeroom this morning and why wouldn’t he have told me on MyWeb that he was coming back?

  Once he graciously accepted me as he friend back in October, we communicated regularly a couple of times a week. He told me he was too sick to come to school, but wouldn’t say why. I tried not to make a big deal about it since he didn’t.

  His MyWeb page gave no hint as to his type of illness. I was tempted many times to ask either Taylor or Erica, but I didn’t want to bring up his name out of the blue. And now, when I had just had the perfect opportunity to ask, after Erica’s comment about his being back in school, I acted all giddy, got embarrassed and basically ran away.

  Through our correspondence, I quickly realized that Michael had a passion for writing. He’d send me his newest poems while I kept him updated on anything that was newsworthy in school, which, most times, wasn’t much at all. He never asked me for my phone number and I didn’t dare ask him for his. It seemed as though we were strictly pen pals, which in today’s age of technology, seemed archaic.

  Back in Mass, I had always hung out with a lot of boys as friends, but never had a boyfriend. I had plenty of crushes on guys, it seemed like a new every week. But for the most part I kept my crushes to myself. I didn’t want my girlfriends teasing me about it or letting the guy know. I’d be way too embarrassed. And if I did find out that a boy liked me, I would do everything in my power to avoid him at all costs, even if I had to go out of my way and take a longer route to class so I wouldn’t have to bump into him in the hallways. I guess deep down I wasn’t ready for a relationship.

  Why was I even thinking about Michael Cooper and having a boyfriend in the same thought process? What was wrong with me? I didn’t even really know him. And why did I think that he would tell me, of all people, when he was coming back to school? I’m sure Erica was mistaken, but she said it with such conviction.

  As I walked down the hallway toward the library, I caught myself lo
oking for Michael, peeking around corners and searching darkened doorways as though he’d be hiding in them.

  I had to get a grip. I opened the library door and vowed not think about anything else but finishing my paper and handing it in on time, which happened to be during the very next period.

  • • •

  I had just finished typing up my bibliography when the bell rang signaling the end of the period. I started to freak out because the printer jammed as soon as I began printing my paper.

  My history teacher, Mr. Winkler, was such a stickler for getting assignments in by their due date. That should be his name. Mr. Stickler. He would automatically deduct ten points for every day it was late and I was not about to let that happen. I prided myself on being a straight-A student.

  I finally fixed the jam, printed the paper and ran for my locker so I could grab my history book. Another five points off a future quiz grade if you didn’t bring your book to class everyday. He was so demanding.

  I tried to get down the hallways as quickly as I could. There was too much congestion as students made their way to their next class. The library was on one end of the school, while my locker and history class where completely on the other.

  I finally rounded the corner to the hallway where my locker was located. I pushed and shoved through the crowd as I made my way toward the end of the long corridor.

  Too late. The bell rang.

  Kids dispersed and the hall completely emptied in a matter of seconds. There was no time left. I sprinted toward my locker and worked my combination as fast as I could. It was stuck! These lockers were the worst and I thought for a split second that maybe Tessa Anderson wasn’t lying all those months ago.

  “Damn it!” I took a deep breath and tried again.