Feelings


There was a Student Council meeting that afternoon. As the Student Communications Officer, I had little to do but make sure the Student Secretary was taking notes, which I’d later put on the website and/or read as announcements.

Right after the election, President Jennifer Beatty had made it clear that my main function at Student Council meetings was not to disrupt them by being a jerk.

She knew what she was talking about. My campaign for Communications Officer had been to appear in public wearing a red miniskirt with half of an electric toothbrush in my ear. I now sat quietly and felt that I was fulfilling the mandate of my constituents.

Chip and Tracie ran most of the meeting. Hickman was taking notes on his laptop, occasionally asking for clarification.

Electra always had an interest in the things the Council was doing, so I let her walk over to watch Hickman’s laptop screen. He smiled and let her read over his knuckle.

She’d tell me if I got anything wrong on the website, and probably improve my phrasing.

I did volunteer to help decorate for the next dance, mostly because I had no intention of dancing and this was the only way Electra could see the décor. She flashed me a smile when I raised my hand.

At the end of the meeting, Chip adjourned and we started to file out.

Electra ran back to hop into my hand and I pocketed her, then turned to go.

“Conrad?” I turned around. Chip was looking at me. Chip was talking to me. By my first name, and everything. “Do you need a ride home?”

Of course Chip had his own car. Well, yeah, technically, I’d missed the bus… I didn’t mind walking but it was chilly that afternoon, and Electra would get cold in my jacket…

“Thanks,” I said after my lightning-quick rationalization. If he made Electra cry again, we’d be home where we could split a gallon of ice cream.

We talked about school stuff and the website and the team while we walked to the parking lot. Electra was silent, and absolutely still, in my pocket.

I made sure the seatbelt didn’t restrict her and held my backpack between my feet. Chip turned on the radio and talked about the band that was playing. Then we rode in silence, except for the music.

He didn’t ask where I lived, which surprised me. He just pulled up in front of the house. And sat there for a moment. We waited.

“I never got to say goodbye to her,” he said.

“Well, now is your chance,” I replied. He looked over at me with the weirdest expression. Like he was lost or something.

I looked down into my pocket. “Miss Electra, that Obrien guy is back again.”

“Yeah,” was all she said. She held up her arms. I lifted her up and out, and put her on the dashboard.

They stared at each other. I turned down the radio. They each shot me a look. “I figure you’re going to want to hear her clearly, aren’t you?”

“Uh, yeah,” he said. She nodded.

“I mean,” I explained, “IF she ever says anything, like maybe in response to if you ever start, you know, talking to her.” They both laughed at that, if a little desperately.

Then they both looked in each other’s eyes. Silently.

“I’ll turn the radio completely off,” I said. “If the silence will drive someone to talking.”

“It’s my car!” Chip protested.

“Yes, so don’t make me turn it around, Mister!” I replied. “Seriously, you wanted to see her, tell her why.”

“I wanted to say goodbye!”

“Then tell ME!” she shouted. He turned back to face her.

She looked so alone up there, just a couple of feet from his face, but to her, she was, like, half a basketball court from him.

“You could put a hand up beside her,” I said. He did, moving as if in a daze. She laid one palm on a knuckle.

They said their goodbyes. Details don’t really matter. ‘I wanted to…’ and ‘We were gonna…’ and stuff. And like the Council, I was silent. My job was not to disrupt this by being a jerk.

Finally, Chip actually picked Electra up. He lifted her to his face and very, very gently kissed her goodbye. She kissed his lip.

And I wasn’t jealous at all. Mostly.

He handed her over to me and I just held her, not putting her in a pocket. She grabbed her legs and cuddled herself in my palm.

“Thanks, Conrad,” Chip said. “If, uh, if she ever needs anything…”

“Okay,” I said. I got out of the car, holding Electra so she could see him driving off until he was out of sight.

“Did you get closure?” I asked.

“Fuck,” she replied. Not what I was expecting.

“What? That was incredibly sweet! And if an inconsiderate clod like me, your words, thinks it was sweet…”

“When he kissed me? I looked up his nose,” she said. I turned to walk to the house. “His nostrils were RIGHT THERE. And… And he’s got a booger that looks just like Grover Cleveland.”

“It’s blue?” I said with surprise. “That’s shocking! You should have told him. What if he sneezes and stains his favorite shirt?”

“Not Sesame Street’s Grover,” she snapped. “The 22nd President of the United States.”

“Oh, CLEVELAND,” I said. “I thought he was the 24th.”

“He was reelected when-“ She spun around in my hand, staring an accusation at me. “So you DID know who I was talking about!”

“And I honestly don’t know how,” I admitted. I set her down on the kitchen table and opened the freezer. “I mean, I barely know who the president is today.”

I opened an ice cream sandwich and cut half an inch off the end. That went onto one of her plates, I kept the rest. I found one of her spoons and set the snack before her.

She dove in for a few bites before talking again.

“Maybe I’m an educational influence upon you?” she suggested.

“Or maybe your brain transmits directly to mine when you’re feeling strong emotions.” I countered.

“What do emotions have to do with it?” she asked.

For a reply, I pushed her down onto the table and tickled the back of her legs. My sylph is incredible ticklish behind her knees. And my fingers were also ice-cold from holding the ice cream.

She screamed and kicked, swearing all the bad words she knew (That’s about four, really, she was a very good kid.).

“See? The angrier you get, the more clearly I see that you want to kill me with a butter knife, slowly sawing through my throat.” I let go of her.

She got up on hands and knees, gasping. “You just remember me making that exact threat a month ago,” she panted.

“Well, can you blame me? Who’d forget an image like that?”



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Index

12. Chemistry

14. Christmas Presence