Chapter 11 Recap: Charlie’s been kidnapped by the world’s smallest glee club (Andy and Jess), but in the best way possible. Finn has something important to say, but a GD ALARM GOES OFF and everyone runs for the stairwells. Will they, won’t they, will they, won’t they…

“I heard it was a bomb threat,” Jessica said as she folded her paper napkin and tucked it into an empty yogurt container. 

After our calc review session at Scones, Andy demanded that I sit with him and Jessica during lunch. 

“The idea that anyone would waste their time bombing this place is ridiculous,” Andy mumbled without looking up from the pile of papers he’d been poring over all lunch period.

“Or that any of these morons would even know how to build a bomb,” I said as I scanned the cafeteria.  “What are you working on, Andy?”

“Fundraising letters. For the theater department. We send out this wish list of what we need.  Stuff like,” Andy glanced down and scanned the letter in front of him. “Five wireless microphones, four new risers, a bubble machine…” he read off.

“A bubble machine?” I asked. 

 “I guess in case they ever decide to do something like…I dunno...The Little Mermaid. Anyway, Mrs. Bally has us hand-write them every year, and I stupidly volunteered to coordinate it. I swear, half of these are barely legible. I’m going to have to rewrite almost all of them.” 

“I told you I’d help you,” Jessica said

“I’ll help too,” I offered. 

Andy gave us a smile and hunched over again. 

“Control freak,” Jessica said and then looked at me. She leaned forward over the table and removed a pair of lime green horn-rimmed glasses that I was pretty sure served no optometric function. “So, what do you think he was going to say to you?” she asked, hushing her high-pitched voice into a sort of stage whisper. 

The day before I'd told Andy and Jessica all about Finn. Partly because I wanted help analyzing the situation and also because I wanted to make sure to seem interesting.  I tried not to, but I kept thinking about what Jackie had said at the party. I didn't want to be boring or predictable. I needed to bring a little drama to the lunch table. So, I'd told them everything from the stolen nuts, to skipping school, to the party and being interrupted by the fire drill. 

Talking about that stuff with anyone else besides Jackie or Liz was a little weird. Especially since Andy was a guy. I was pretty sure that Andy wasn’t interested in me… or maybe any girl. At Scones, we had chatted and made fun of McGreary. 

“It’s like I have to block out his voice just to make it through that period. I don’t know what it is, but he drives me crazy,” Andy had said, clutching his mug of coffee. 

“Maybe it’s his audible salivary glands,” I said. 

“What?” he asked, a small smile playing on his lips. 

“He makes that faint but disgusting sucking noise every time he opens his mouth to say something,” I explained. “Like this,” I said, demonstrating the sound. 

“OH my god! That’s it!” he said and laughed. “I’ve been trying to put my finger on it. A.S.G.S. Audible Salivary Gland Syndrome.”

“He’s basically the spokesperson,” I said and we laughed. 

I considered Jessica’s question. What was Finn going to say to me before the alarm went off?

“I have absolutely no idea,” I answered. 

“You guys keep getting interrupted,” said Jess. She took a sip from her water bottle. “It's getting a little ridiculous. Fights, fire drills, bomb threats...It's like someone's sabotaging you!” She was clearly enjoying the drama. “It's Jenna!” She whispered. 

I’d told them about her too.

“Right, we can track all of this back to Jenna, the mastermind,” Andy said dryly, not looking up. 

“Yeah, that’s probably not realistic. She's kind of an idiot,” Jessica agreed. 

“Honestly,” I said, “this is probably a waste of time. I'm just trying not to think about him anymore. I don't even know why I built him up in my head so much. I mean, yeah, he's cute, he's an artist...he's tall...those aren't good enough reasons. Especially if he's got something going on with Jenna...” I said and drained the last of my milk from its container.  

“I really feel like something is going to happen with you guys, though,” Jessica said thoughtfully. “And he's not just cute and tall. Remember, he helped you with your book photography, you guys talk all the time in independent study...and you keep dismissing your date.”

Jessica really had been paying attention. 

“It wasn't a date,” I corrected her. 

“Right, that day where he drove you to a restaurant, bought you food, and talked to you for hours,” Andy said sarcastically, looking up. “Quick. Jess – soundtrack.” 

“For fries at Dino’s?”

“Yes.”

“Hmm…” she said. She removed the glasses again and chewed on one of the earpieces. 

“The scene at Dino’s calls for…” she thought. “Female vocals…”

“Agree,” Andy said. 

“A subtle use of vocal harmony…” She continued.  “A sense of longing…Oh, I’ve got it. The lyrics even reference a sweatshirt.”

“What song?” I asked. 

“Gray or Blue. By Jay May.” 

“I don’t know it,” I admitted. 

Jessica cleared her throat and began to sing. She sounded like a tiny, chirping bird. 

I watched you very closely, I saw you look away

Your eyes are either gray or blue

I'm never close enough to say

But your sweatshirt says it all

With the hood over your face

I can't keep starin' at your mouth

Without wonderin' how it tastes

She stopped and hummed a little bit more. “Oh my god, I wish I had my headphones on me, I’d make you listen to it right now. It’s perfect.” 

“It is,” Andy agreed and took a swig of orange juice. 

“It’s the type of song they play in the scene that leads up to the scene where the characters get together,” Jess said. 

I sighed. “Well, if I keep thinking something is going to happen, I'll drive myself crazy,” I said. 

“Why not just admit that something good might happen?” Andy demanded. “I just don’t see what’s wrong with thinking ‘what if’ every once in a while.” He put down his pen and crossed his arms. 

There had been something there that day – I’d felt it. Every time I thought of Finn, that little part of me tugged at the rest of me, which was holding back. That little part of me was doing cartwheels and yelling “What if! What if!”

Gray Or Blue Jaymay

Now spinning: Gray or Blue by Jaymay

“It looks like you've fallen a bit behind schedule.” 

Her head down, Mrs. Trousseau scanned my independent study report as she held a red felt-tipped pen by her right ear. She was dangerously close to leaving a mark.  

“I know,” I said. “I'm planning on staying after a few days this week and next week so that I can catch up.” I'd never been told that I was falling behind before, especially not by Mrs. Trousseau, the one person who had ever read anything I’d written. Anything real, anyway.

I’d known she had a journal requirement in her classes, so I’d made sure to take her for both ninth and tenth grade English.  The second she returned our journals I’d scan the pages for her comments, which were always positive. “Insightful.” “Interesting metaphor.” The one time I'd slipped in something that resembled a poem she'd written “This is a gem.”

“How's it going, otherwise?” she asked as she looked up. I'm pretty sure she was really asking, “Still think this is a good idea?”

“It’s good,” I said, forcing a smile. 

“Good,” she answered. “Try to nail down the table of contents and get the first section squared away the week after Thanksgiving break.”

“Definitely,” I said. “And, I’m working on incorporating some storytelling into the copy. To make it more interesting to read than your standard cookbook.” I swear I'm still a good writer, I wanted to say. 

Mrs. Trousseau's smile was tired and doubtful. “Let's just get the bare bones down first and then go back and flesh it out. This is an exercise in technical writing. You don't want to spend too much time on the details when you don't have all the pieces in place.”

I nodded a little too eagerly. “Right. Okay,” I said. 

“Okay,” she said, shuffling together the pages of my draft and handing them to me. “You’ve got some work to do.” 

The final bell rang and I joined the noisy mess of students that clogged the hallway. Everyone was headed home or to Dino’s or practice, but I trudged to the art room. 

Finn's area was clear, his easel empty. A cluster of lumpy looking clay sculptures were set to dry on the counter where he and I had photographed my gratin. I stood over the figurines to get a better look – a large, flat spoon; a disproportionate music note; a shallow and warped thumb-pinched bowl. They stood alongside each other, malformed and childish. 

Setting my book bag on the floor, I cleared a space on the counter and pulled out my notebook

Clay figures in the sun, I wrote. 

I stared at the words for a minute before scratching them out. 

Feel the clay run through my fingers.

It sounded fake. I started over. 

A parade of ugly statues.

Who was I to talk about ugly art? At least the kids who made the sculptures put their work out there. They weren’t hiding behind an anonymous Instagram account and some “safe” project that turned out to be not all that safe. How embarrassing to pick the easy way out only to fail. 

“Ugh,” I said out loud and threw my notebook aside. I suddenly felt exhausted, my arms and legs weighted down. I looked at the door. I won't make it, I thought. I curled my legs up into my chest and laid sideways on the windowsill, resting my head on a folded, paint-crusted tarp.  I just need to close my eyes for a minute. 

I woke suddenly to the sound of sneakers squeaking against the linoleum hallway.  The sun had set, leaving the room dark, except for the red EXIT sign glowing above the doorway.  Panicked, I sat up quickly and looked at my watch. I'd been asleep for almost two hours.  I rubbed my eyes and felt the creases that the hastily folded tarp had left on my face.  I groaned and grabbed my bag before heading for the door.   

I cut through the cafeteria where, amongst the stacked chairs and folded tables, clusters of band kids shuffled along with their instruments. The color guard girls chatted and laughed while twirling their flags. I watched them over my shoulder as I turned down the hallway leading to the exit, but I quickly came to a stop. A group of four guys were sitting on the floor at the end of the hallway, blocking the double doors. Each of them slouched over a skinny laptop. I recognized Jackson first; two of the other guys were vaguely familiar. They’d maybe been at the Halloween party too. And then there was Finn. 

Holding my breath, I tried to back away unnoticed. Instead, I backed into a color guard girl who was passing behind me, knocking a flag out of her hands and sending it to the floor with a loud clatter. All four heads looked up at the same time. Not one of them smiled. “What the hell?” the girl muttered as she retrieved her fake gun. 

I gave Finn a sheepish wave and self-consciously touched my face to see if the tarp creases had faded. They hadn't. 

He said something I couldn't hear to the guys before snapping his laptop shut and jumping to his feet. Carrying his stuff with him, he walked down the hallway toward me. 

“Busy?” I asked. 

He shoved his computer into his bag and zipped it. “Editorial meeting.  We got kicked out of the library for being too loud so we set up here.” He pulled a folded baseball hat from his back pocket and put it on. “We usually meet at Jackson's house, but Henry had band practice.”

“Ah, ok.” I glanced over Finn's shoulder down the hallway at the guys. “It looks like they're still working,” I said. 

“Yeah,” he, said waving a hand in their direction. “Henry and Jackson can’t even agree on, like, the simplest layout decisions…” he paused to rub his eyes with his palms. “So we're not getting anywhere right now anyway.” He lifted his hat again and smoothed his hair back before pulling it down tightly. “I actually need to go back to the art room. Want to walk with me?”

Thank god he hadn't left ten minutes earlier, or he would have found me drooling on the window sill.

“Yeah, sure.” 

We walked back through the cafeteria, dodging the flag-twirlers. 

“Did you hear that they figured out the call was probably these kids from South?”

“The call?” I asked.

“The bomb threat. From the other day?” Finn said as we walked side by side. “They're pretty sure these guys from South did it with a burner phone.” 

“Why would they risk getting expelled for something so stupid?” 

“Honestly, they throw around 'grounds for expulsion' all the time and never do anything,” he said. 

“Yeah, I guess they do.”

We were both quiet for a minute. Finn started to say something else and stopped himself. Out of the corner of my eye I looked over at his profile and could see that his brows were furrowed beneath the brim of his hat. We turned into the stairwell and began climbing. 

“It, uh,...It seems like a lot of...” he stammered, “messed up shit has happened lately.” He stopped on the second-floor landing and leaned against the wall. 

“Yeah?” I said. He could have been referring to the bomb threat. Or maybe he meant Jackie and me. I stopped, too, and leaned beside him. An inch of open space separated my left arm from his right. I looked over at him and his eyes caught mine.

“What I wanted to tell you was that… I didn’t mean for everything to go down like that at the party. And, I didn't realize how drunk I was until it was too late.”

“Oh, no worries,” I said as I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. “I didn't even really notice,” I said, trying to sound relaxed. “I mean, I noticed the fight. But, not that you were drunk.”

He laughed and looked down at me. “You're totally lying.” 

“Well,” I said, smiling, “I mean, I could tell you'd been drinking...”

“I wanted to tell you that I really liked your costume,” he interrupted. 

I bit down on the side of my cheek.  

“Thanks...it wasn't really me. I mean, I don't normally dress like that. I mean,” I was stammering. “Obviously I don't wear Halloween costumes on a regular basis. But, what I mean is—”

“No, I get it,” he interrupted again. “You don't usually wear a lot of make-up or anything.” He turned to face me, leaning his shoulder against the wall. “You don't have to wear all of that shit,” he added and tilted his head. He fidgeted with the zipper on his sweatshirt. 

“Thanks,” I said. And suddenly it was like my heart finally caught up to what was happening, beating extra hard for only just realizing I was alone in a dark stairwell with Finn. I thought of Jessica’s song. The one about the sweatshirt.  I wanted to be inside that sweatshirt. With Finn.

He leaned back against the wall again. “Also,” he said. He paused. He was searching for the right words. “I mean, I don't even remember everything I said. And then the thing with Jackson... That's just not what I wanted to happen.”

“What did you want to happen?” I blurted out. I couldn't bring myself to look directly at him. I stared ahead at the staircase leading to the third floor. 

Someone above us slammed a locker.

Suddenly, I felt a hand lift my own away from the railing I'd been gripping behind me. Warm and a little sweaty, it awkwardly enveloped my palm and hastily wriggled to entwine its fingers with mine. We stood there silently. He slowly traced the length of my thumb with his thumb. 

He cleared his throat. “I don't know, exactly.”

I wanted to look down at our hands to see if it was real. To confirm that the hand holding mine was actually Finn's. But I kept still, afraid to make any sudden movements that would discourage the barely detectable tracing of my thumb. 

There was a loud buzz followed by a click, and suddenly we were in complete darkness. 

“The timer,” I heard Finn say through the darkness. His voice echoed loudly. “The lights in this wing go off automatically after 5:30.”

“We're not supposed to be here,” I said hesitantly without moving. Finn hadn't let go of my hand. Just then a set of heavy footsteps could be heard above us. 

“Shit. Rent-a-cop,” Finn whispered. “He probably heard us.”  

The footsteps paused. We remained frozen in place. 

“Stay still,” Finn whispered. He leaned his face close enough to my ear so that his breath tickled my neck. “He might be going the other way.”

The steps picked up again, and they were definitely getting louder. 

“Never mind, he's coming this way,” Finn said a little too loudly as he pulled me into the darkness toward the stairs. 

“I can't see!” I said, trying to keep my voice low. 

“First step!” he yelled over his shoulder. I half stepped, half stumbled my way down the stairs after him, gripping the banister with my free hand. 

“Who's down there?!” a voice from above echoed down through the stairwell. “Hold it right there!”

We slammed through the door at the bottom of the staircase and took off down another pitch-black hallway. 

“Should we go to my car?” I asked as we ran towards the next set of double doors. 

“No, it's too far...wait!” 

Finn stopped just short of the first set of double doors. He let go of my hand and pushed one of the doors open and stepped backward, letting it slam shut in front of us. Darting to the side, he opened the door to a utility closet I'd never noticed. Grabbing my hand again, he slid inside, yanking me in after him. My book bag flew from my shoulder and landed at the base of a jumble of broomsticks. 

There was barely enough room for both of us between an industrial-sized mop bucket and shelves of half-used paint cans. We stood there in the dark, trying to quietly catch our breath. Only a few seconds later, the security guard's plodding footsteps could be heard jogging down the hallway. His labored breathing was audible from within the closet, as was a string of muttered obscenities. I couldn’t see Finn through the darkness, but I could feel his body shaking slightly, and I knew he was trying not to laugh. I bit my lip and tried to conjure any un-funny thoughts I could think of as the plodding and breathing grew louder and closer. I held my breath as the steps passed the closet door and the double doors were thrown open and crashed shut. We stood silent and motionless until the sound of the security guard's boots faded into silence. 

We let out a collective breath and instantly doubled over in laughter. “Wait...hold on...” Finn managed to say between gasps for breath. I heard a click and suddenly the space between our faces was lit with the small, orange flame of a cigarette lighter. 

“Are you okay?” he asked. For the first time ever he was smiling with both sides of his mouth. 

“Yes, I'm fine,” I said, still laughing.

“That was close,” he admitted. 

“Do you realize that this is the second time we've been chased by Rent-a-Cop?” I asked.

“Well, spend enough time with me...Ow!” he said as the flame went out and left us standing in the dark again. “Sorry, it was burning my thumb.”

“We should probably go now while he’s still looking for us in the north wing, right?” I asked quietly. 

“Yeah...”

I stood still, waiting for him to open the door. Instead, he moved closer to me, closing what little space there was between us. Wrapping his arms around my back, he gently pulled me into his chest and rested his chin on the top of my head. More parts of us were touching than not.

This is happening, I thought. I breathed deeply, trying to slow my heart rate. My arms hung limp and weighty at my sides. I should do something with my arms, I thought, but came up with nothing. He pulled me closer, and my head turned involuntarily, allowing me to rest my cheek against his collarbone. Somehow, my arms found their way to his shoulders. 

He dipped his head slightly and grazed the side of my neck with cheek, his chin stubble scratching me lightly. 

We should stay here until it’s safe, I thought to myself. 

I lifted my chin to say it out loud and felt Finn's lips land on mine. He cupped the sides of my face gently with his hands. He kissed me. 

When I was six years old, one of the batteries in my toy kitchen mixer split open and leaked a brown, sticky trail along its base. I thought it was chocolate syrup and licked my fingers. The shock of acid on my tongue was paralyzing. It started in my teeth – sort of a hot, numbing sensation – and vibrated down my spinal cord and the back of my legs. My knees buckled. I sat on the plush carpeting of my bedroom and felt my body temperature spike and then plummet, leaving my body shaking and sweaty. A part of me knew I should run and tell my mother what I’d done so she could make sure I wasn’t dying. The other part of me wanted to do it again. 

Kissing Finn was like licking battery acid. 

 I slid my hands from Finn's shoulders and encircled his neck with my arms. His hands slipped up my back and pulled me even closer. 

Needing a breath, I gently pulled away. 

“Is this okay?” he asked quietly, loosening his hold and allowing his arms to drop to his sides. 

“Yes,” I answered, reaching for the back of his neck to pull his face to mine again. 

Waiting and Waking by @MoledyVerses

I used to wake in darkness

unsure of what I missed

what I was missing 

what I'd lost. 

Now I say

give me the dark

and I will run blindly 

dragging my fingers along the walls

in search of what I know is there

waiting for me

because I have seen it just long enough

in the orange flame of 

your cigarette lighter

to know how it feels against my skin

and that it is worth waiting for 

Nobody Hozier

Now spinning: Nobody by Hozier