Going the Measure - Lisa Crawmer (the beginning after the end read novel TXT) 📗

looks over, and I swear she rolls her eyes. Looks like she’s not that easy. I’m embarrassed again, so I just jump in the pool. At three, she leaves, and so do I because I have classes.

It ends up that we have four classes together. Technical Science, Old English Literature, Geography, and Calculus. I’m in there immediately to see if she will be there. Five minutes pass and she still isn’t here. The teacher, Mr. Gilbert, starts to talk about Shakespeare when she comes in, quite late for class.

“Sorry, um, teacher, I didn’t know what class I had first,” she says breathlessly.

“And what is your name?” he sighs.

“Uh, Aly Smith.”

So that’s what her name is...

“Ok, Aly. Your six minutes late for class, so I will put your name down. Next time I won’t be this easy. You disrupted the class young lady.”

“I know Mr., Gilbert. It won’t happen again.”

“I know it won’t happen again. Now go sit down next to Carson.”

She looks around and sees that Carson is me. My face forces a slight nervous smile when she sits down. Mr. Gilbert gives a forty-five minute lecture about Hamlet and what inspired Shakespeare to write it. We didn’t make eye contact the whole time. I felt really stupid. Now we have to work with the people next to us, so that’s her and I. She doesn’t look so enthused.

“I’m Carson,” I finally pipe up.

“Aly,” she says with a sarcastic smile. “You know, I know you followed me today. Did you think I wouldn’t notice? I know boys like you that pretend to like a girl and dump them for someone else. Lay off, will you?”
“Uh, ok, sorry. I didn’t mean to follow you, I don’t know why I did. I won’t do it again. Sorry.” I look down at my paper and start to scribble nonsense answers.

“I should be the one saying sorry. Really, I just got out of a long relationship, so I’m a little off key lately.”

“It’s fine. I, don’t.. really know... how to talk to girls...”

“Really? Well at least your not arrogant. I like shy boys.”

“Cool! I mean, that’s tight.”

Just then, the class is dismissed. As she walks out she says one more thing.

“By the way, nice abs.” She smiled and walked out.


Aly

As I walk back to my room, I really try to organize his features. Carson, I like that. He was really nice. Maybe I should’ve slowed down when he started to become nervous. Brown hair, blue eyes, very white teeth. Something about him gave me a weird feeling every time he talked. He really did have wicked abs.

My room is unlocked and no one is in there. Gosh! Can Ashley not go out of her way and unlock one little door? She is really messy. She left all her clothes out and I swear she doesn’t know how to clean up after herself. She keeps taking my pop from my fridge. I throw everything on her bed and lay down. My mind is so clustered with different things. School. Carson. Track. Carson. Shakespeare. Carson. I didn’t even know if falling asleep was an option tonight. Finally, my mind drifts into a very light sleep.

It’s Wednesday morning. Two days and I’ve already met a boy and caught some gazing at me from a distance. Four more years is all I can tell myself. This isn’t vacation people! It’s school, where you go so you don’t have to work at fast food restaurants!

When the alarm clock goes off, Ashley wakes up too. She is about to say something when I fling my pointer finger up to shush her. After about five minutes, my body flies into action, putting on running clothes for the usual morning run. Usually I’m already ready to go when my alarm goes off. Boys make it hard to snooze. I run down to the smoothie shop and slurping down with many brain freezes. I skipped the textbooks today because I am running twenty minutes behind. Okay, boys mess with your schedule all around.

Of course, when my run is over, I head to the pool to work on my tan. And also, Carson has now decided to go wherever I am, lingering in the distance. This has never happened to me. Here is the only place he makes a conversation with me.

“Hey Aly, want to swim?” he asks.

“No offense, but why do you think I’m here? Sure, I’ll swim,” I tease.

We splash right in, just to make a statement that we’re here. when I come up for air, Carson wicks me in the face with a wave of water. He laughs and I splash him right back, in the face. He get out and tromps over to the diving board, screaming cannonball like a little kid, then jumping in. It was rancid. Water went everywhere, hitting everyone.

“Jeez Carson! You are NOT good at making friends,” I laugh and splash him.

“Now it’s so on,” he says slyly.

We were at the pool for two hours, almost missing class, my hair still damp. Laughing, we stumbled in. Mrs. Artsworth gave us a dirty look. I sat down, Carson following, still chuckling with the adorable wheeze he makes with it. The teacher is telling us about how we have to go over simple stuff first, just to refresh our memories because apparently no one knows how to multiply fractions. Most of these teachers need to be in the elementary levels. But they are sometimes too aggressive and impatient for child care. That’s why none of them have kids.

As she rattles on about how much math is important, Carson throws a note at me from across the room. He smiles at me. I open it .


Hey Aly. Do you want to hang out tonight?
Maybe we could go get something to eat, or get some smoothies.
You know we get the same kind? Uh, yeah, well... throw one back. :)

I look over and give him the thumbs up. He smiles and looks away. Under his desk, he makes a victory fist pump. He’s so silly.

Carson

Josh helps me pick some clothes to wear tonight on my date. Well, it’s kind of a date. More like a friend supper. Aly and I are going to the Crab Shack. I thought she would go with something less messy, but she insisted. I finally got her number. Sometime yesterday, she slipped it in my shorts pocket. We talked for an hour before we even started planning on where to go.

I get in my clunker of a car and roughly drive to the downtown food center. Aly didn’t want me to pick her up. I didn’t argue. Another thing in Dad’s rulebook. DON’T ARGUE WITH WOMEN. Apparently, guys always lose. I wouldn’t doubt it.

The Beast (my car) drives in and parks, almost hitting a Mercedes Benz that’s probably more than my college is costing. A waiter sees me and sits me down at a table for two. No one is here tonight. After fifteen minutes of fidgeting in my seat, Aly finally walks in. She tells the waiter that she’s with me and takes a seat across from me. I get a little tinge that goes through my whole body.

I look at what she wore. I feel stupid getting so dressed up, when she only wore a nice shirt and jean shorts. I picked out khakis and a sweater vest! We kind of sit there awkwardly, not saying nothing. I finally speak up.

“So how has your day been?” I say.

She replies, “Carson. I was with you.” She looks at me with a smile that surely means she’s messing with me. That’s what is good about her. She knows how to joke and have fun while still maintaining confidence. This is a skill that I will never master.

“I knew that. Um, what’s your favorite sport?” I ask.

“Track comes in an absolute first. This feeling always goes through me, you know, that you have to keep going? And I always get an adrenaline rush! What’s yours?” she says excited. Certainly not running, I think.

“I like baseball. Football comes in a close second. I’m really not much of a runner. I did discus my senior year though. Does that count?” Right then, the waiter came with our food. We didn’t even order, though she knew what we wanted, crab legs. What else are you going to get at a crab shack? We talked nonstop until our plates were spotless, butter and small pieces of crab meat all over our hands. After we said our goodbyes,I gave her my number and we got in our cars. She left immediately, while I stayed parked. for a half and hour I sat in my car listening to the quite loud idle, not caring about how much gas I was wasting.

Aly

When I get home, I see that my phone must have been ringing off the hook, all from my mom. Six calls. Five text messages. It had to be important for her to even bother trying to text. Her generation isn’t good at phone usage. I typed in her number, the ringer going only twice.

“Mom?” All I heard when I answered was her sobbing. I could tell it was a hard cry because she started making the hiccuping sounds. Bad sign.

“Aly, honey. Why didn’t you answer? Well that doesn’t matter right now.” She takes a breath, with a couple of sniffles, then begins, “Aly, your dad, he’s gone.”