High - @((Y^!@ Allyvia (guided reading books .TXT) 📗

cup nervously, Nix found himself looking into those brown eyes and smiling half-heartedly.

 

“I was kind of hoping brutish was another term you used as endearment,” Nix joked weakly. Lucy could hardly even muster a smile, as she embarrassedly looked at him from across the table of Steam’s. The place smelled of sourdough bread and wheatgrass juice, an odd combination that only added to both’s anxiety.

 

“You weren’t supposed to be looking through my things,” she said in a voice that wasn’t steady, filled with layered anger, and as though to prove her point, pulled her canvas bag closer to her. Nix frowned.

 

“I know. It was very... brutish of me,” he apologized, pausing as he used that rough term of endearment. A smile tugged at his lips, as he glanced down at the cup of steaming black coffee in front of him. He was probably the first person in months to order actual coffee from Steam, instead of that chocolate frappe blonde mochiato crap every Amy Herring and Amanda Nichols of the world drank like clockwork.

 

An awkward silence rippled around Lucy and Nick, like raindrops dropping into a pond. The uncomfortableness was something new to Nix, seeing as he surrounded himself with his kind of people. Watching Lucy from afar had been easy; sitting right across from her, explaining why he had taken her notebook, was like a nightmare come true.  He shyly shifted, and began cracking his knuckles- a nervous habit.

 

When he looked up, he realized Lucy was watching their waitress with an unusual amount of attention. Lucy had her gaze intently set as their waitress-- whose name tag read Jackie, a small unnatural bleach blond with piercings on her lip-- began gathering glass cups off the empty table across them. Jackie cursed, as she counted the two dollars left as tip, audible enough for Nix to make out the words ‘cheap’ and a few vulgar terms.

 

“She has a kid,” Lucy murmured, so quietly, he almost hadn’t heard. Nix, blinking and finding himself looking into those innocent eyes, furrowed his brows in confusion.

 

“Who? The waitress?”

 

Lucy nodded, and signaled for Nix to look in Jackie’s direction. “See the circles under her eyes? She obviously doesn’t sleep at night. And her ankles are a little swollen- maybe from working too hard or maybe from just getting over a pregnancy. And she’d need more than two dollar tips to raise a child.... What do you think,” she asked, glancing up at Nix from beneath her lashes. Nix smiled.

 

“I think she’s an alcoholic,” he mused, taking in Jackie’s smudged eye makeup, and the light ink on her wrist. The stamp on her wrist was almost embroidered into his childhood, like a strand of wool knit into a sweater, he realized, knowing exactly where Jackie had gone clubbing the night before. He watched as she swiftly moved through the tables, the light click of her shoes on the tile floor making him grin. She was wearing sparkly stilettos, ones a normal waitress would never think of wearing.

 

“Oh, really,” Lucy challenged, looking over at Jackie again.

 

Nix nodded, and traced the dark brown coffee ring on the table. “Yeah. She’s still wearing her party shoes. The ink on her wrist is a giveaway. If she isn’t an alcoholic, she’s a clubber. And, those two dollars are probably going to her drinking tab.”

 

The thing about Nix was, he was good at hiding pain. Whatever was nagging him deep down-- he knew those two dollars weren’t going to spent on a child, he knew that stamp wouldn’t wash away for another day, he knew that waitress would have blisters on the heels of her feet-- was buried under that humor he so carefully spurted out of his mouth. Lucy smiled, and and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. Nix, watching her and desperately wanting to know what she was thinking, felt his foot brush against hers on accident.

 

“Nick,” she began. He wondered why she never called him Nix like everyone else, and yet he kind of liked hearing her say his name. It sounded like a poem- Nick,  by Lucy Edwards. Within the time thoughts of Lucy writing poetry about him had invaded his brain, Nix hardly even heard her finish her sentence of, “how far did you get into it? My journal, I mean.”

 

Nix uncomfortably let his gaze drop to the bag at her feet. Wetting his lips, he thought back to what Lucy had written on that last page. She needed a friend.

 

“Only the first page. About Amy, and how she likes to hear herself talk,” he smiled teasingly, watching as those rosy cheeks flamed in embarrassment. He could tell Lucy was feeling self-conscious about how she felt towards Amy, and yet Nix felt as though he needed to reassure Lucy. Insistently, he added, “And I think you’re kind of right. About Amy liking to listen to herself talk.”

 

“Oh...,” she whispered, a small smile playing on her lips. “I didn’t mean... I didn’t think any of her friends would end up reading it.”

 

Nix laughed, one that made her feel both self-conscious and bubbly, and raised a dark brow. “It’s okay, Luce. I won’t tell. I promise.” As if to prove his point, he held up a rough, calloused pinkie. Lucy wrapped her tiny, soft, white finger around his, and thought of how warm his skin was.

 

Lucy, hearing herself being given one of Nick Keating’s famous nicknames, grinned, showing off that little gap between two of her side teeth. I like that gap, Nix decided, as his foot brushed against hers again, only this time not so accidentally.

 

“Good. Now, it’s a secret for a  secret. Either you tell me one of yours,” Lucy said with an evil smile, “or I will have to kill you.”

 

Nix raised a brow in play shock. “Luce, my dear, I’m not a very secretive guy.”

 

“Tell me one anyways,” she smiled, her voice light and airy as she rested her chin in her hands, like something from out of an old romance movie, batting her lashes and crossing her legs. Nix grinned, trying to recall some horrible secret he knew Lucy would love.

 

“Um... well, once in second grade, I sent a love letter to my teacher,” he admitted, sheepishly avoiding her eye contact. Lucy seemed like a romantic; she’d probably coo and tell him how sweet he was. So, when she began laughing, Nix was utterly confused.

 

“That’s it?! C’mon, you know some things I would never tell anyone else, and all I get is some second grade crush story. Nick Keating, I expected much more from you.”

 

Nix felt his heart swell as she said his name-- Nick Keating rolling off her tongue-- and hoped she’d say it more. Nick Keating. She made it sound so romantic and special. Nick Keating. Jeez, this kid was over the moon.

 

“Fine... hmh.... Oh, got one,” he cried excitedly. Lucy, raising a brow in interest, watched as his face became and unfamiliarly red shade of embarrassment. She had never seen Nick blush before, she realized, watching his tan face shift colors like a sunset.

 

“Okay,” Nix breathed, “So, in eighth grade... I played Seven Minutes in Heaven with Amber Wilder.”

 

The thought itself was repulsive, and he watched as Lucy grinned. Amber Wilder had nine tattoos, seventeen piercings, and, now, a blooming uterus. Back in eighth grade, she had been pretty enough, and smelled decent. No piercings, or tattoos, or missed periods.

 

“Oh...,” Lucy managed, before erupting in giggles. Her face flushed red, and she giggled even harder, making Nix chuckle. After a snort escaped her lips, they were both laughing hard. Customers around them were staring, granted, and yet the two only laughed harder.

 

“Was it... was it good? Did she try to stick her tongue down your larynx,” Lucy giggled, those red flushed cheeks filling like a full moon as she smiled widely. Nix liked that smile, one he had rarely seen on her. He wanted to Polaroid that moment.

 

“It was...,” Nix began, hoping he didn’t offend Lucy, “probably worse than kissing a walrus. I mean, she had braces, and they kept cutting the inside of my mouth. I had more fun getting stitches when I was nine.”

 

Lucy giggled, and grabbed hold of the ceramic cup in front of her. Nix didn’t ask what it was; the smell coming from it was enough to tell him ‘No way, Jose’.

 

“And who all knows this secret,” Lucy asked after taking a sip of the putrid-smelling green stuff in her mug, licking her lips as though to savor the taste.

 

“Just you, me, Amber and Matt,” he shrugged. Lucy grinned, thinking of how nice it would be to have an inside joke with a friend. Even if it was with Nick Keating, the boy who had so quickly blurred the lines that were placed between her and her bullies.

 

“Good. You know, I think I’m going to write about this, later. Maybe a short story- ‘Lucy Edwards’s Big Date with Superstar Nick Keating’,” she grinned, tucking a wild strand behind her ear.

 

“So this is a date now,” Nick teased, raising a brow. Lucy laughed.

 

“Yes. Haven’t you heard, dear Nick Keating, I’ve been desperately in love with you since eighth grade,” she sighed, feigning nonchalance even though deep down she was still a little nervous.

 

Lucy used the term ‘love’ loosely. She wasn’t even sure if she liked Nick-- he had gone through her personal things, and then began swathing her with little charming smirks and romantic jests-- but she knew beggars couldn’t be choosers. She knew she didn’t have much of a choice, since Nix was one of the few people who acknowledged her existence. Even if he had stolen her notebook, she was grateful he was being so... nice about everything. Funny, even.

 

Nix chuckled nervously, and, although Lucy didn’t know it, thought the same thing. He wasn’t in love, but he loved the idea of being in love with someone so... Lucy. There was not one word in the whole book of Webster’s he could use to describe her. Lucy was Lucy.

 

Just then, the ringing of her cell phone brought them back to reality. Luce the Romantic was Lucy Edwards again, and Surprisingly Nice Nick was the gorgeous Nix Keating again, who, in reality, wouldn’t be seen in Steam with Lucy Edwards because she was weird, and he was popular and gorgeous. The two couldn’t even be seen together, because it would bend the laws of Hamilton High nature. Lucy, blushing, pulled out her phone, and felt the little muscles in her mouth turn down into a frown.

 

“I, um... I have to go,” she said quietly, before jumping from her chair and forbidding herself to look into Nick Keating’s eyes. Nix, confused, watched as she grabbed the bag at her feet-- purple notebook and all-- and scrambled out of Steam faster than he could stop her.

 

He wanted to stop her. He wanted to jump from the table and sprint after her into the busy street. He did not want to sit in the cafe table at Steam, motionless and dazed, because he didn’t know what was going on. He did not want Lucy to leave, especially so abrupt and vaguely, and he felt that presence she possessed, some much character for such a little girl, sift out of Steam like smoke diminishing from a bonfire in the bright starry sky on a summer night.

 

Nix, admitting defeat, exhaled loudly and pulled out his wallet. Before leaving, he remembered to leave more than a two dollar tip for that alcoholic, post pregnant waitress named Jackie.

 

~~~

 

Lucy Edwards sat in the tree, her skinny legs straddling a thick branch of the old oak. Her stomach, twisting in nervousness, dropped to her feet when her mother-- curly hair wildly breaking out of her hair-tie, face furrowed and wrinkled as she deeply frowned, eyes narrowed angrily-- opened the glass sliding door that lead to the backyard garden.

 

Lucy did not want to leave her tree. She, catching her mother’s gaze, let out a frustrated gargling noise that Claire knew meant something along