Bluehour (A Watermagic Novel) (8 page)

“Why Grace?” His eyes widened. I guess he
thought it was a strange request.

“Please don’t say anything about it to the
exchange students, but I want to give something to Laurent and I
don’t want them to know about it.” I looked around to see if anyone
in the halls was listening. There were just some freshmen girls
giggling amongst themselves as they walked by.

Danny glided his hand over his gelled blonde
hair and looked at me uncomfortably. “Truthfully, I don’t think
they’ll tell me. They’re very private.”

“Oh, no, no, no…” I said as I leaned in
closer to him. He smelled a little like hamburgers. “I don’t want
you to ask them. I want you to try to get his address from your
dad.”

“My dad?” His eyes widened and he looked
confused.

“Yes, he works at the post office,
right?”

“Yeah, so?”

“Doesn’t he have access to everyone’s
addresses?”

He chuckled under his breath. “I guess he
does, but I don’t think that’s legal.”

“Okay,” I said in disappointment. “It’s just
kind of important and it’s all harmless—right?” I shifted my weight
to try to seem like I was losing interest in the conversation. I
hoped the threat of my leaving would draw him in.

“I just can’t do that, Grace.”

“No problem—Laurent’s loss.” I laughed
nonchalantly.

“What do you have to give to Laurent?”

“He mistakenly dropped something of his by me
when we were paired up for swim team and before I could give it to
him, he rushed off. And now he hasn’t been at school since.”

Danny smiled now and then nodded. “I could
give it to his friends and they could give it to him.”

“I wish it was that easy, but I’m sure he
would be embarrassed for them to see it.”

“Oh.” He paused in contemplation. “If it’s
something embarrassing, wouldn’t he be even more uncomfortable if
you gave it to him—I mean considering that he barely knows
you?”

“Yes, of course. That’s why I want his
address. Then I can mail it to him anonymously. That way he won’t
feel humiliated.”

Danny laughed out loud. “That’s so funny. I
sure wish I knew what it is.” He kept chortling.

I laughed too.

“I’ll see what I can do. I’ll talk to my
father. He might be okay with that.” He was shaking his head and
smiling. I could tell he was trying to figure out what Laurent
could possibly have dropped that was so embarrassing.

In truth, I didn’t have anything of
Laurent’s, but I wanted to see where he lived. I thought maybe I
could get some answers if I did a little harmless detective work. I
hoped Danny would help me.

For the rest of the week Laurent still wasn’t
in school. But his friends surely were. Their presence was
prominent. I felt I couldn’t avoid them. They invaded my space, my
thoughts, and my sanity.

When I was walking down the hall one day,
Brigitte bumped into me hard. I slammed against the lockers.

“
Excusez-moi
,” she said carelessly.
Her body language seemed to convey that she hardly noticed what she
had done. But, it wasn’t clear. I got the feeling she may have
bumped into me on purpose.

And the next day I tripped over Marine’s foot
as I walked into the cafeteria. She turned away like she didn’t
notice that I stumbled before her. Her intensions also were
ambiguous like Brigitte’s.

And once I walked passed their lunch table
and thought I heard Pascal say to his friends in a quiet voice,
“Grace will surely die.”

I must not have heard him right. Lately, my
mind was running wild. My imagination must have been unleashed.
But, after he said that, Marine saw me and her face seemed to go
pale.

The school week passed and Danny never came
through with Laurent’s address. He told me he spoke to his father
and he said he wasn’t allowed to give out unlisted information. I
told Danny to keep at it and eventually his dad would give in.

Danny just laughed and shrugged his
shoulders. “You’re funny, Grace.” That’s all he said. But, then, he
saw the disappointed expression on my face and he agreed to keep
trying. He told me that he’d make another attempt on a day when his
dad was in a more agreeable mood.

In cooking class, I started a minor grease
fire when I was frying the corn tortillas in oil for the tacos we
were making. Agatha was annoyed with me for not listening to the
explicit instructions she gave me before she left for a quick
bathroom break. She said I wasn’t supposed to pour the whole bottle
of oil in the pan and I certainly wasn’t supposed to cook the oil
on the highest temperature.

The teacher was shocked when she saw the
fire. She grabbed a big bag of flour from the cabinet and poured it
on the blaze. To my surprise, the flames extinguished, but the
classroom filled with smoke and we all had to sit outside on the
grass for the rest of the period.

On the brighter side, my parents were happy
with me all week because I did so much house cleaning. Jokingly
they said they wished I was always on restriction. I didn’t think
that was funny.

And Lucy was happy with me too. Even though I
wasn’t allowed to go out with my friends this weekend as part of my
punishment, my parents let me take Lucy to the amusement park
because they considered that babysitting was in the category of
chores. We both had a great experience spending time together. It
was fun watching her eyes light up on the Ferris wheel. Mostly, I
enjoyed hearing all about her school week and her classroom
friends.

But, during all my experiences, I couldn’t
get my thoughts off of Laurent. My mind continued to wrestle with
ideas like how he teleported across the classroom and how he found
my small sapphire ring in a vast ocean. I was as determined as ever
to figure him out.

On Monday when I returned to school, I was
disappointed to see that Laurent was still absent. I started to
worry that maybe he returned to France and was never coming back.
The idea of never seeing him again disturbed me much more than it
should have. For the rest of the day I fell into a melancholy mood.
I just went through the motions of the day, but my mind drifted to
dark places.

I was feeling so down that I almost decided
to skip swim practice. But, when I thought about the possibility of
being kicked off the team and not getting into Berkley, I thought
better of it.

I took my time changing into my bathing suit,
just staring at the rows of gym lockers as I fastened my straps.
Because of my mood, I lagged behind the others. When I got out onto
the deck, I sat down on a bench along the gate and started trying
to stuff my hair into my swim cap. Most of the girls and boys were
already doing laps, but several stragglers were also on the benches
and others were still filing in through the gate.

And then I saw him. It was Laurent.

My heart began to race at the sight of him. I
bit down on my balled hand trying to calm myself.

He was back. There he was leaning against the
gate combing his hair roughly into a ponytail which he tucked into
his swim cap. His body was gorgeous, a golden bronze.

I wondered if he noticed me. Probably not.
But even if he had, he probably wouldn’t say anything. Goosebumps
raised on my arms as I walked over to the barrel to take some fins.
To my surprise, I caught him watching me. But, when I looked at
him, he quickly turned away. He seemed furious suddenly, almost
violent.

I wondered if his feelings had to do with me.
It wasn’t possible. There was no way I could have had that sort of
effect on anyone, let alone a boy like Laurent Moreau. Even his
name was beautiful.

Another guy was horsing around and bumped
into Laurent. To my disbelief, he grabbed the boy by the arm and
swung him around heatedly, yelling at him in French. My body
tensed. Then he released the boy and dove into the pool.
Immediately, he started doing laps. I was shocked by his energy; he
was unusually fast and strong in the water.

I didn’t know what to make of his mood. My
heart didn’t stop racing. I wondered what he could have been so
angry about. But, he didn’t say a thing to me the rest of
practice.

The next day at school in English class, I
was relieved to see that Laurent was there. The insides of my
stomach started fluttering when I saw him, but that only made me
angry. He didn’t even look in my direction. I noticed he was
sitting between the other très beaux instead of in the outer desk
as before. By their hovering presences, I got the feeling they were
guarding him.

“Laurent, please pass out the pop quizzes on
Romeo and Juliet,” Mrs. Wallace said. Earlier she explained that
she wanted to see how much we remembered of the story from ninth
grade. It was her favorite and she wanted to read it aloud in
class.

I couldn’t help but watch Laurent as he
gracefully walked from desk to desk passing out one paper at a
time. His long hair was so silky and smooth. I had a strong desire
to touch it. As he got closer to me, I noticed his teeth clench. My
pulse started to race. When he handed the quiz to me, his eyes
narrowed fiercely and his nostrils flared. I got flustered and
dropped my pencil.

My eyes averted from his to the falling
object. To my utter shock, it seemed that as the pencil fell it
stopped short of the floor and levitated midair, a couple of inches
above Laurent’s foot. I blinked my eyes wondering if I had seen
correctly. Nobody would have noticed this oddity, but I happened to
be staring with keen attention as it fell.

In an instant, I thought I saw Laurent
retrieve the pencil from the air. It couldn’t be possible. My
eyelids held wide open as I stared at his crouched body before me
and his fingers that held the object. His focus was on the pencil
which he carefully put in his mouth. If I wasn’t shocked enough—it
appeared as if he was enjoying the taste immensely. He closed his
eyes and shook his head slightly like he was experiencing great
pleasure.

“You taste so good,” he whispered with his
eyes closed, almost as if he had no awareness of what he was
saying.

Suddenly, he came to his senses. His eyelids
popped open. A self-contained rage overtook him. He set the pencil
down on my desk with fury in his burning blue eyes. And then with a
snarl he commanded, “Don’t drop your stuff.” With that, he set the
stack of papers on my desk. “You pass out the rest.” His melodic
voice was dark as he rushed gracefully back to his desk between his
cluster of friends.

It looked like he was breathing heavily as he
sat in the chair before his desk. His chest rose and fell achingly
like a dying fish out of water.

1. Rhythmic Gate
   

The next day at school, the très beaux
arrived at English class late. They sort of glided into the
classroom like a dream. As I watched them move toward their desks,
I must have gotten caught up in their energies because I felt
almost euphoric, like I was floating peacefully in midair. The
feeling was inexplicable. I felt mesmerized.

I looked at Mrs. Wallace and her eyes
appeared glazed as she spoke of Romeo and Juliet’s never ending
love for each other. I got the feeling that she didn’t even notice
the exchange students’ late arrival. She looked so impassioned with
the play, with life. It was as if she was in her own magnificent
world.

The other students appeared dreamy eyed too.
They also seemed to be oblivious to the
très beaux
’s
entrances. It was my impression that I was the only one who noticed
their arrival. I couldn’t tell exactly what was happening though
because I felt so good. I just wanted to bask in the pleasure of
the moment. Nothing mattered much.

But, then I came back to reality. The
blissful recall drifted away like a mist. Now, somehow, I felt
disappointed.

I surveyed the classroom. The other students
looked normal now. Everyone, including the teacher looked slightly
disgruntled like they had been woken up too abruptly from sleep.
Mrs. Wallace continued lecturing on the Shakespearean play, but now
her enthusiasm had waned.

I looked over at Laurent. He had switched
desks again. I sensed that he was purposely sitting as far away
from me as possible. He took the desk on the other side of the
très beaux
. I wasn’t sure if he changed seats because of me
or for some other reason. But, I couldn’t help but feel that it may
have been because he wanted to get away from me.

As I watched him from the corner of my eye, I
sensed that he was brimming in a self-contained rage. I couldn’t
figure him out. And as much as I tried to control myself, I
couldn’t help but sneak glances at him.

His mannerisms as he took out his things and
arranged them assiduously on the desk seemed subtle, sort of
flowing in rhythm like a gentle ocean dance, but beneath the
surface, I intuited an inner turmoil that could be likened to shark
frenzy. The illusive contradiction made my mind spin with
wonder.

In all logic, I should have been frightened
by him, but I wasn’t. His underlying anger hinted at something
fierce, but my heart drew me to him regardless. More than scared, I
was confused.

The other French students seemed more focused
on Laurent than on me that day which was a relief. I got the
impression that they were acting more like body guards than
friends. I had to wonder who they were protecting him from.

Oddly, the teacher acted more lenient with
the exchange students than with the rest of the class. She didn’t
appear to mind that they were late or that they traded desks
amongst themselves. I got the vague feeling that she didn’t even
notice, which was unlike her. English teachers are usually attuned
to detail. Maybe she was purposely ignoring them. But had it been
anyone else in the classroom, I bet she would have objected.

For the next few days it seemed as if Laurent
was either ignoring my presence or he didn’t know I was alive. He
continued to sit between or on the opposite side of his friends in
English class. I noticed that his body was most often angled away
from me. Either his chair was turned or he leaned on his desk with
his hand on his face blocking his view from my side of the
room.