Within a small Colorado town, there's a quiet forest entrenched in almost-forgotten local folklore. When high school soccer player Michael Cole sees the new girl Evelyn, walk into his senior English class he is forever changed. His passion for the mysterious, secretive girl takes him deep into the mystical world of which she is a part.
As their separate worlds collide, Evelyn and Michael embark on a magical journey into perilous realms where dangerous creatures are determined to defeat them. Will their forbidden love be able to sustain them? Find out in the first novel of this romantic elfin novel saga.
(Publisher's Note: Books 1 & 2 of Guardians of the Gate were previously published separately, and are now available as one novel. If you have purchased Book 1 previous to this edition, please contact us)
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I remember the first time I saw her, meandering like a ghostly vision up the hallways of Green Mountain Falls High. Like an artist or a writer, I noticed all the details others missed. My father used to tell me, ‘Michael, you’ll make a great poet someday.’ I didn’t know then it was she who would inspire the poetry in my own life.
Poetry of passion...
Poetry of torment...
MONTH ONE: MARCH
Evelyn
Her snow brown boots cover her feet and her high white socks stick out over the top. Her white leggings are snug and tight, wrapping around her small legs until they disappear underneath her light blue jean skirt. A small bit of her white shirt can be seen underneath her green jacket. Her golden brown hair is highlighted by the late morning sun, shooting through the English Class window and into the hallway.
We are both heading in that direction. She pushes her hair that dangled past her breasts over her pale face as if to hide her beauty, but there is no dimming her effervescence. She shines like a lost jewel discovered for the first time by all the eyes upon her. Whispers echo through the halls in wonder at this new girl to our boring town. Her caramel skin is accented by her hair which spreads over her body like choppy waves in a sea storm. Her fluffy rose colored lips glitter with ruby color. Her emerald, almond shaped eyes speak to me as I stand there paralyzed with my mouth agape.
Tanya pushes her way through the crowds gathering in the halls before the next class bell. A clique of jocks stands at one end of the hall while another group of kids with alternative styles stands at the other. A few girls giggle in secret near their lockers with hands covering their mouths and eyes peering over at the new girl. She drops her class schedule and bends down to pick it up. Tanya’s cheerleading athletic shape bumps into the new girl and she falls over hitting her knee.
I rush over to help her back to her feet, extending my hand. Tanya smirks and we all know she did it on purpose. She knows I disapprove from my heavy glare and hurries away from the scene. I know Tanya well, or I should say everyone knows Tanya. Her large tall frame is the perfect base to the cheerleader’s pyramids and the streak of blond she highlighted her dark shoulder length hair with was the talk of last month. It didn’t take much for gossip in this town. She goes to all of the sports games at my school. I play on the soccer team. She often attends to gawk at the athletes when she isn’t practicing cheers with her squad or cheering for our football team.
“Are you alright?” I speak the words like I am attaching plaster to a door with my father, without elegance or eye contact. I am too taken aback by her presence for that kind of innocent intimacy. She places her hand in mine and smiles. I become lost in her eyes in that instant and yet never feel more connected. Her touch is like a volt of electricity surging throughout my body. I pull her up and her tall, lean figure, appearing frail from the distance becomes sturdy close up with well defined muscles underneath. I look at her schedule and a silent smile defines my lips and flushes my cheeks as I take her to the English classroom.
Her presence in the room is fresh, like the beginning of spring after the heavy snowfalls of winter. The snow is still falling in Colorado, despite the start of spring, and seems like it will be for a while. It will be a couple more months before we will see what flowers the spring brings to our small town. Like the new spring flowers that bloomed each year, she is a flower of her own kind. She walks towards the back of the classroom and plops into a seat. I am drawn to her and want to sit next to her, but am hesitant with my anxious nerves.
I settle for the seat in the front row where I usually sit next to Robby. Robby’s disheveled, layered brown hair looks like a mess. Of course this is nothing new. He pays less attention to his appearance and more attention to his academics and beloved soccer game. We’ve played soccer together since we were kids and making it on the high school soccer team was a dream of ours that came true for both of us.
The class bell rings and the students file into the room leaving their last moments of freedom behind. They sit studiously and focus in their seats, knowing Mr. Roth takes no excuses for tardiness or misbehavior. In this honors English class we all take education a little more seriously. His wide frame is dressed always in an impeccable suit and his dark short blond hair is immaculately combed and parted to the left. Mr. Roth adjusts his spectacles and looks over his attendance sheet to read her name, Evelynia.
“Class, please, say hello to Ev-e-lyn-ee-a,” he slows down each syllable to pronounce it correctly. “She has just moved here from Alaska and will be joining our Senior English class.” As she corrects him, saying her name I know my life would never be the same.
“Please, call me Evelyn” she says succinctly as she shyly brushes her hair over part of her face, trying to hide behind it again. The class turns around to see this new spectacle in our school, our quiet and boring run of the mill high school. She settles back into her seat, realizing she has drawn attention to herself. I can see her squirming, and then an awkward smile appears that says, ok you’ve all looked long enough, nothing to see here, turn back around now.
A few of the kids giggle while others whisper as we turn back to face our midyear English quiz - all of us but me. I gaze around the classroom from my desk and whilst Mr. Roth is focused on the papers on his desk, lean back in my chair like I am about to yawn and roll my head in her direction. Her face is subtly soft. She glances up and I see her eyes, peering from behind her hair which highlights her heart-shaped face.
I smile and her eyes dart quickly back down to the quiz in front of her. The class is quiet and it feels like we have been there for a long time, too long. When the bell rings and everyone jumps up, ready to leave and head for lunch. Robby jumps up full of vigor and heads towards Evelyn. I watch as he takes her book bag from the back of her chair, in a most cordial and old fashioned way.
“I've got it, thanks.” Evelyn says, struggling to pull the bag back and managing to squeeze between the classroom wall and Robby to make a quick exit out the door. Robby smiles as he watches her delicate features vanish from his line of sight.
“Nice try, Robby.” I tell him. “Maybe next time you won’t scare her away.” We have been friends since elementary school and he is more like a brother to me now. I follow Robby out of class and as we walk down the hallway, we watch her as she glides through the halls. Everyone turns their heads as she goes by, gossiping, wondering. It is not just her drawing the attention of so many eager faces, but the idea of something new to our lives - something to break the monotony of our everyday. New is exciting. New is different. She is both.
She walks angelically, as if she is sailing across the halls instead of walking across them, but of course one foot did go in front of the other. Perhaps it only seems that way to me, because I am so taken by her. Her wavy, long hair sways back and forth as she moves. I lose sight of her as she turns the corner. Robby is anxious to get into the cafeteria to eat lunch. Why is she walking away from the cafeteria? Isn’t she hungry?
I sacrifice my curiosity for satiating Robby’s appetite. We walk to our usual table and join four other friends. I sit between Laura and Sarah. Robby sits across from me between Taylor and Lee. Laura strokes her blond hair with a wooden comb which she demands refines her locks for her role as head cheerleader. She has a crush on Taylor and says he has dark chocolate skin that tastes sweeter than the mounds chocolate bars (not that she has ever had the opportunity). I try not to keep that mental image in my mind for too long. As I sit down she is quick to tell me her thoughts on this new girl.
“Did you see her? Her skin is ghastly.” Laura sounded like a bird crooning in pain which I could only deduce was from her extreme jealousy. I place my lunch tray in front of me and grab the plastic covered sandwich. I answer her as I unwrap it.
“She’s in my English class.” I say plainly. Sarah brushes her elegant long brown hair away from her face and behind her ears to eat and listen intently. With her hair brushed behind her I can see the few freckles across her nose and over her cheeks which she tries to hide with make-up. “I thought she looked nice.” Nice is an understatement, but I don’t want to give Laura any more fuel to be jealous.
Taylor turns my way when I say, nice, because he knows that is my word for hot, of course he would just say hot. He has no inhibitions. Taylor is another soccer player on our team who sits across from Laura every day at lunch and is still oblivious to her preoccupations of him and I know when lunch is over he will head straight to me and try to weasel out information about this new girl. His blond high-lighted streak in the middle of his dark hair marks him from a distance. If Laura and he ever finally get together they may just be the quintessential jock couple of the year.
“You are going to have to show me her sometime. Everyone is talking about her.” He pauses in thought and then continues, “I know, tomorrow I’ll meet you outside of English class before heading to lunch.” Taylor responds.
“Wait at your own risk.” I retort with a glint of humor behind my eyes and quirked brows. Taylor knows my interest when I described her appearance as, nice, and he smirks before eating his cafeteria food. Sarah crunches down on her apple and studies the variety of vegetarian delights on her tray before picking one up and eating it. She smiles at Lee who sits across from her and her right cheek bunches up in a high corner of her jaw line.
“I saw her in the hallway before lunch. I thought she looked sweet.” Sarah defends. Her words spoke less about Evelyn and more about herself. Sarah was as naïve as anyone could be at seventeen.
“Always seeing the best in people.” Lee jumps eagerly into the conversation if it meant to converse with Sarah. Lee’s Chinese features give his dark eyes a chiseled almond appearance. He is gifted with computer, a typical cliche. We used to joke with him about it when he first joined our soccer team, but since he hacked into the school computer network last year and was suspended for a month, the jokes have become more of praise. He reaches across the table and grabs a few carrots from Sarah’s tray. Her lips press tight and she speaks a French phrase that none of us know except Lee, but from the tone of it and Lee’s retreat, it must have meant something in English like, don’t touch my food. Sarah’s long brown hair sits perfectly trimmed like she used a ruler to cut the edges straight and her fashionable appearance is only trumped by Lee’s designer jeans and Laura’s school cheerleading uniform.
Lee and Sarah are the only two at our table that can speak a foreign language. Lee knows Mandarin and French, but Sarah speaks fluent French. They never have much in particular to talk about in French, but the usual phrases about weather and well being and the less common phrases usually involving food, but they seem to enjoy the little French they do communicate with one another. I think Sarah just likes the idea of all things foreign. She fidgets with her fingers and pinches her face in childlike fashion when she is not eating and talking.
Additionally, they both always come to school dressed impeccably, something Robby could never aspire too. Robby twitches his nose when he ponders in deep thought which is too often for most of the students here. His verbose, over the head way of speaking lacks most of the local colloquialisms and common elocutions necessary for keeping the attention of most girls here, but he impresses the teachers which is where he spends much of his time.
He desires to attend Yale upon graduating, a school I have longed to get into most of my academic life. I have lived in this small town most of my life and am itching to get out of this place. Across from our table is where most of the cheerleaders sit along with Tanya. Laura would normally sit with them, but her current focus has been Taylor these past few months.
Like Tanya, Laura is quick and efficient to defend her turf. The cheerleaders are the talk of the school and if something or someone else mandates that attention away from them, they are effective in putting it, he or she back in its place. On the other side of the cafeteria is another table filled with ripped jeans, concert shirts, greased hair, and tattoos. Near the wall of the lunch room is the large table full of football and soccer players –the athletes. I sat with my friends there last year, but this year has been different for me, Robby and Lee trying to buckle down on our studies to ensure the acceptance of a top ten school. We try to separate ourselves from the parties and loud lunch hours in hopes that our sacrifices will pay off in the end. Interspersed throughout the rest of the café is everyone else neither notable nor influential, but filling the spaces of seats.
The bell rings to announce the end of lunch and we split up as we each head to our next class. My next class today is Physical Education. I head to the gym to change and then the track and field outside. That is when I see her. She is in her white gym uniform, sitting on one of the benches, waiting for her name to be called. It hasn’t been but about an hour and yet I feel like I've missed her.
“Evelyn.” The coach calls and her sharp piercing eyes dart up. She lines up in the third lane spot where Mr. Phillips points.
“Michael.” The coach calls again. I jump off the bench and stand next to Evelyn in the fourth lane. We all have our positions on the track. Standing next to her, it is difficult to concentrate. She smells like Jasmine flowers. Our gym instructor Mr. Phillips wants to assess our running speeds, so we need to run once around the track against the clock. If we cross the finish line under five minutes we pass, and over five minutes we fail. Most of us are timed at just over four minutes. A few of the class stranglers clock in at six and seven minutes.
I never have a problem running as I practice every other day with my friends. When we aren’t playing soccer on the soccer field we are playing hockey. The whistle blows and we attempt to outrace the others. Evelyn and I run side by side with only white chalk lines dividing us apart. We run head to head for the first two minutes and then I smile and wink as I pull past her. She returns my gesture with a shy laugh that she hides by looking down at the ground while she runs. I clock in at three minutes and thirty seconds, the fastest in the class. She completes the run in just over four minutes. She ranks eighth in the class after everyone has finished running. Not bad for the new girl. I heave while I race off the track and up to the benches where Evelyn sits. Her breathing is soft and fluid. There is no perspiration on her body like there is on all the other students including myself, and though she clocked in as eighth in the class, she looks like the one who has exerted herself the least.
“I hear its cold in Alaska.” I look at her as her hair tousles in the Colorado wind. The next group of kids line up for their assessment. Mr. Phillips blows his whistle a few times, indicating a few false starts. Evelyn wiggles her feet over the dirt ground, playing with the sand with her sneakers. Her arms are secured with her hands holding each side of the bench.
“Yes, it is.” Her voice is soothing and warm like lemon tea. Her coy smile fixates on me for a moment before she draws her head down.
“You must be used to the cold weather in Colorado then?” I ask clumsily. She looks up and nods her head as the sun glistens over her face, gold jewel colors radiate from her complexion. She looks away from me and her eyes cast down at the shadows on the dirt field from the afternoon sun. Her honey colored hair wraps around her face like a canopy and drops to her hands. She looks comfortable as she basks in the sun. I turn my head to look at her closely, to see the sparkle again, but it has past along with the sun. “My name is Michael.” She looks up again at me. “And you are Evelyn?”
“Yes.” She looks like she is about to say something more and then the bell rings. The class runs inside for showers and she follows behind the other girls. The next two classes move boringly along until the final bell rings and I pack up my things and jump into my truck to head home. My mom and dad, Sue and Henry, wait for me at the dinner table as I arrive late having stopped by the local library to pick up a few books we have to read for our English class. Despite what jokes my athletic friends make, I am studious and have been preparing to go away to Yale after graduation.
“I’ve made your favorite tonight, steak and potatoes.” Mom says standing over the kitchen stove. “Take a seat and I’ll be right there with you guys. My favorite two men in the word.”
“So how are things going Michael?” Dad says and begins eating now that mom has joined us at the table. My dad is a man of few words and when he begins eating, I know the conversation for his part is soon over.
“It’s fine. I did well on my English quiz today and picked up a few books for our reports due next term. Though I speak about school, all I can really think about is her.
“That’s good, glad to hear it.” Dad smiles and then continues eating. At night I can only think of her: her hair, her eyes, her scent, her skin, her voice. She is intoxicating. I go outside to kick my soccer ball on the driveway in the dark. I cool off my mind and let the chilly breeze wash over me. Then I head back inside to a restless sleep.
The next day I spend an extra ten minutes in the bathroom getting ready for school. For me that is a lot more extra time than usual. I wash my short, dark hair twice and stare into the mirror on the wall. I rub my fingers over the two pink pimples against my nose. At least my blue eyes are strong in color to distract girls from the imperfection. All the girls say my eyes are the first thing they notice about me, followed by my elongated eyelashes. I have to admit I’m kind of proud of my eyes, though I had nothing to do with getting them. I shave my chin as I do every morning or the stubble from my hair begins to grow and grab my cologne and spray my clothes a few times.
When I get to school, I wait anxiously for my first three classes to pass so I can go to English and see her. I head to the back of the class, knowing she will be there soon. She walks into class just as the bell rings and returns to her seat from yesterday. I smile at her awkwardly and she politely smiles in return. I try for a conversation, but my throat tightens at the thought. What do I say? I’ve already asked her about the weather. Normally, I would have no problems talking to girls. I am quite popular. But she is different. When I am near her, I feel different. I sit quietly, smiling at her for the rest of class until the bell rings and everyone heads out. I notice Taylor hawk eyeing me and wiggling his finger indicating that I should usher myself over to him quickly or all hell might break loose. I weed through the crowd and manage to get to him before Evelyn disappears completely.
“So, where is she?” Taylor asks in impatient anticipation.
“She left the room before I did. Didn’t you see her?” I retort. Taylor raises his brows and in obligatory surrender, I point to the tall, lean figure in a blue jean jacket turning the corner at the end of the hall.
“The girl dressed from the 80’s?” Taylor giggles heavy. I hadn’t thought about it. I hadn’t noticed it staring into her eyes and finding myself lost in her flowery scents, but he was right. She was dressed like she was from a different time. Taylor digresses from his launch of attack on my affections for Evelyn and concedes my wording of looks nice from yesterday’s lunch. “But you are right. She is hot.” He presses his lips together with a sound like a kiss slipping through them and he finishes with, ‘damn, those long legs are fine.”
For the next few weeks all I can do is think about her. I manage to say something in the second week like “ah, um, do you need my notes?” She nods her head, no. Undiscouraged I eagerly rush to open the classroom door for her as she leaves the English class when the bell rings, along with three other students finding their way there, taking advantage of my chivalry. If I was the teacher I would have marked their names on the black board next to detention: Julia, Harry, Cynthia with big red marks. Today these three block my path through the hall, keeping me from watching Evelyn’s delicate figure glide out of my line of sight as I had grown to enjoy the past weeks. Harry and Cynthia stop in the middle of the hall talking and I get stuck behind them. Then Evelyn turns the corner, disappearing.
It is in the beginning of the third week when I mutter something like, ‘do you need any paper,” while dropping my own paper on the floor, distracting her from saying anything back to me. I look up at her with puppy eyes and manage to squeeze out of my mouth, “would you like...” and then the bell rings. I wanted to invite her to lunch, to sit with me at my table. I figure this will give us time to get to know each other better, rather than sitting in silence in English and gym class.
At the end of the third week I finally muster the courage to ask her out on a proper date without feeling she will reject me completely. I see her pencil break half way through lecture notes and I pull out an extra one out of my bag to hand it to her. Can she see right through me? Maybe I should not be so attentive? But she seems so fragile to this small town and doesn’t seem to know many people.
“Would you like to go out tonight?” I speak slowly, not realizing fully that I am actually asking her out and she is actually listening. I may have been imagining it as I did so many times in class. “I mean if you’re not busy over the weekend.” The words spit out of my lips from a frustrating three weeks of denying myself the privilege of conversing with her. But it is Friday and I don’t have exciting plans, unless one calls soccer practice with friends exciting, so I brave the embarrassment of my impulsive question.
“Where?” She replies. My eyes open up wide with excitement as she talks to me and it hits me that this is real, not in my head. She is talking with me and I am mystified by her presence.
“The Main Star Cinemas, it is up the street from where I live, thirty minutes from the school.” She hesitates in her answer and then in apologetic tones says, “I...I can’t. I’m sorry.” She looks at me like she desperately wants to say yes, but can’t.
“Perhaps you would rather go with some other friend?” I look down at the desk and play with the pencil in my hand.
“No, that’s not it. I’m just…I would just…rather do something closer to home.” She looks at me and away and back at me as she says this.
“Ok,” I say hopeful with my eyes widening. “Where do you live?”
“Across from Lake Forest.” She tilts her head to the left and her hair falls away from her face and emerges is the warm heart-shape of her forehead to her jaw line.
“Way over there?” I giggle.
“I like to stay as close to home as possible in the evenings, if you don’t mind?” Her tone becomes serious.
“There is a movie theater across the street from Lake Forest near where you live, Major Cinemas. We could go there?” Evelyn ponders the thought for a moment. “It’s a date?” I say like a question and when she returns my smile it is confirmed. “I’ll pick you up around sevenish?” I conclude and Evelyn hands me a piece of paper where upon she has scribbled directions to her house. A glitter of happiness sparks in my baby blue eyes and I wait for her to look at me again with her engaging emerald eyes. I carry an achieved smile on my face throughout the rest of the day, a smile everyone at the lunch table was quick to pick up on.
I anxiously drive myself home and park the truck in the driveway behind my mom’s Volvo. I run up to my bedroom and throw my hands into my closet, passing over the array of clothes I have collected over the years. Nothing seems right. I don’t want to appear too decadent. I don’t want to appear too casual like I don’t care. I find a dark blue pair of jeans and a nice brown wool sweater. That might look nice. The jeans are causal, but expensive. The sweater is elegant and also has a casual feel to it.
I run to the bathroom to fix my hair. I stare at myself in the mirror and notice my hair has blown into some kind of strange upward spiral from the windows rolled down in my truck. I knew it would happen. My hair is always a mess when I leave my windows down. But I wasn’t thinking about my hair as I drove home, I could only recall she said, yes. I wash my hair with a new shampoo my mom bought. It has a nice balance of fragrance, but not much of a perfume smell. I shave again just to be sure of hiding any stray stubble that has grown in the last seven hours and then dress. I go downstairs to eat dinner and then rest in the lounge room until it is time to leave. Moments pass slowly while I tap my fingers on the table and though it must have only been about twenty minutes, it feels like two hours. Finally, it is time to go and I can’t wait to see her.
As their separate worlds collide, Evelyn and Michael embark on a magical journey into perilous realms where dangerous creatures are determined to defeat them. Will their forbidden love be able to sustain them? Find out in the first novel of this romantic elfin novel saga.
(Publisher's Note: Books 1 & 2 of Guardians of the Gate were previously published separately, and are now available as one novel. If you have purchased Book 1 previous to this edition, please contact us)
_________________
I remember the first time I saw her, meandering like a ghostly vision up the hallways of Green Mountain Falls High. Like an artist or a writer, I noticed all the details others missed. My father used to tell me, ‘Michael, you’ll make a great poet someday.’ I didn’t know then it was she who would inspire the poetry in my own life.
Poetry of passion...
Poetry of torment...
MONTH ONE: MARCH
Evelyn
Her snow brown boots cover her feet and her high white socks stick out over the top. Her white leggings are snug and tight, wrapping around her small legs until they disappear underneath her light blue jean skirt. A small bit of her white shirt can be seen underneath her green jacket. Her golden brown hair is highlighted by the late morning sun, shooting through the English Class window and into the hallway.
We are both heading in that direction. She pushes her hair that dangled past her breasts over her pale face as if to hide her beauty, but there is no dimming her effervescence. She shines like a lost jewel discovered for the first time by all the eyes upon her. Whispers echo through the halls in wonder at this new girl to our boring town. Her caramel skin is accented by her hair which spreads over her body like choppy waves in a sea storm. Her fluffy rose colored lips glitter with ruby color. Her emerald, almond shaped eyes speak to me as I stand there paralyzed with my mouth agape.
Tanya pushes her way through the crowds gathering in the halls before the next class bell. A clique of jocks stands at one end of the hall while another group of kids with alternative styles stands at the other. A few girls giggle in secret near their lockers with hands covering their mouths and eyes peering over at the new girl. She drops her class schedule and bends down to pick it up. Tanya’s cheerleading athletic shape bumps into the new girl and she falls over hitting her knee.
I rush over to help her back to her feet, extending my hand. Tanya smirks and we all know she did it on purpose. She knows I disapprove from my heavy glare and hurries away from the scene. I know Tanya well, or I should say everyone knows Tanya. Her large tall frame is the perfect base to the cheerleader’s pyramids and the streak of blond she highlighted her dark shoulder length hair with was the talk of last month. It didn’t take much for gossip in this town. She goes to all of the sports games at my school. I play on the soccer team. She often attends to gawk at the athletes when she isn’t practicing cheers with her squad or cheering for our football team.
“Are you alright?” I speak the words like I am attaching plaster to a door with my father, without elegance or eye contact. I am too taken aback by her presence for that kind of innocent intimacy. She places her hand in mine and smiles. I become lost in her eyes in that instant and yet never feel more connected. Her touch is like a volt of electricity surging throughout my body. I pull her up and her tall, lean figure, appearing frail from the distance becomes sturdy close up with well defined muscles underneath. I look at her schedule and a silent smile defines my lips and flushes my cheeks as I take her to the English classroom.
Her presence in the room is fresh, like the beginning of spring after the heavy snowfalls of winter. The snow is still falling in Colorado, despite the start of spring, and seems like it will be for a while. It will be a couple more months before we will see what flowers the spring brings to our small town. Like the new spring flowers that bloomed each year, she is a flower of her own kind. She walks towards the back of the classroom and plops into a seat. I am drawn to her and want to sit next to her, but am hesitant with my anxious nerves.
I settle for the seat in the front row where I usually sit next to Robby. Robby’s disheveled, layered brown hair looks like a mess. Of course this is nothing new. He pays less attention to his appearance and more attention to his academics and beloved soccer game. We’ve played soccer together since we were kids and making it on the high school soccer team was a dream of ours that came true for both of us.
The class bell rings and the students file into the room leaving their last moments of freedom behind. They sit studiously and focus in their seats, knowing Mr. Roth takes no excuses for tardiness or misbehavior. In this honors English class we all take education a little more seriously. His wide frame is dressed always in an impeccable suit and his dark short blond hair is immaculately combed and parted to the left. Mr. Roth adjusts his spectacles and looks over his attendance sheet to read her name, Evelynia.
“Class, please, say hello to Ev-e-lyn-ee-a,” he slows down each syllable to pronounce it correctly. “She has just moved here from Alaska and will be joining our Senior English class.” As she corrects him, saying her name I know my life would never be the same.
“Please, call me Evelyn” she says succinctly as she shyly brushes her hair over part of her face, trying to hide behind it again. The class turns around to see this new spectacle in our school, our quiet and boring run of the mill high school. She settles back into her seat, realizing she has drawn attention to herself. I can see her squirming, and then an awkward smile appears that says, ok you’ve all looked long enough, nothing to see here, turn back around now.
A few of the kids giggle while others whisper as we turn back to face our midyear English quiz - all of us but me. I gaze around the classroom from my desk and whilst Mr. Roth is focused on the papers on his desk, lean back in my chair like I am about to yawn and roll my head in her direction. Her face is subtly soft. She glances up and I see her eyes, peering from behind her hair which highlights her heart-shaped face.
I smile and her eyes dart quickly back down to the quiz in front of her. The class is quiet and it feels like we have been there for a long time, too long. When the bell rings and everyone jumps up, ready to leave and head for lunch. Robby jumps up full of vigor and heads towards Evelyn. I watch as he takes her book bag from the back of her chair, in a most cordial and old fashioned way.
“I've got it, thanks.” Evelyn says, struggling to pull the bag back and managing to squeeze between the classroom wall and Robby to make a quick exit out the door. Robby smiles as he watches her delicate features vanish from his line of sight.
“Nice try, Robby.” I tell him. “Maybe next time you won’t scare her away.” We have been friends since elementary school and he is more like a brother to me now. I follow Robby out of class and as we walk down the hallway, we watch her as she glides through the halls. Everyone turns their heads as she goes by, gossiping, wondering. It is not just her drawing the attention of so many eager faces, but the idea of something new to our lives - something to break the monotony of our everyday. New is exciting. New is different. She is both.
She walks angelically, as if she is sailing across the halls instead of walking across them, but of course one foot did go in front of the other. Perhaps it only seems that way to me, because I am so taken by her. Her wavy, long hair sways back and forth as she moves. I lose sight of her as she turns the corner. Robby is anxious to get into the cafeteria to eat lunch. Why is she walking away from the cafeteria? Isn’t she hungry?
I sacrifice my curiosity for satiating Robby’s appetite. We walk to our usual table and join four other friends. I sit between Laura and Sarah. Robby sits across from me between Taylor and Lee. Laura strokes her blond hair with a wooden comb which she demands refines her locks for her role as head cheerleader. She has a crush on Taylor and says he has dark chocolate skin that tastes sweeter than the mounds chocolate bars (not that she has ever had the opportunity). I try not to keep that mental image in my mind for too long. As I sit down she is quick to tell me her thoughts on this new girl.
“Did you see her? Her skin is ghastly.” Laura sounded like a bird crooning in pain which I could only deduce was from her extreme jealousy. I place my lunch tray in front of me and grab the plastic covered sandwich. I answer her as I unwrap it.
“She’s in my English class.” I say plainly. Sarah brushes her elegant long brown hair away from her face and behind her ears to eat and listen intently. With her hair brushed behind her I can see the few freckles across her nose and over her cheeks which she tries to hide with make-up. “I thought she looked nice.” Nice is an understatement, but I don’t want to give Laura any more fuel to be jealous.
Taylor turns my way when I say, nice, because he knows that is my word for hot, of course he would just say hot. He has no inhibitions. Taylor is another soccer player on our team who sits across from Laura every day at lunch and is still oblivious to her preoccupations of him and I know when lunch is over he will head straight to me and try to weasel out information about this new girl. His blond high-lighted streak in the middle of his dark hair marks him from a distance. If Laura and he ever finally get together they may just be the quintessential jock couple of the year.
“You are going to have to show me her sometime. Everyone is talking about her.” He pauses in thought and then continues, “I know, tomorrow I’ll meet you outside of English class before heading to lunch.” Taylor responds.
“Wait at your own risk.” I retort with a glint of humor behind my eyes and quirked brows. Taylor knows my interest when I described her appearance as, nice, and he smirks before eating his cafeteria food. Sarah crunches down on her apple and studies the variety of vegetarian delights on her tray before picking one up and eating it. She smiles at Lee who sits across from her and her right cheek bunches up in a high corner of her jaw line.
“I saw her in the hallway before lunch. I thought she looked sweet.” Sarah defends. Her words spoke less about Evelyn and more about herself. Sarah was as naïve as anyone could be at seventeen.
“Always seeing the best in people.” Lee jumps eagerly into the conversation if it meant to converse with Sarah. Lee’s Chinese features give his dark eyes a chiseled almond appearance. He is gifted with computer, a typical cliche. We used to joke with him about it when he first joined our soccer team, but since he hacked into the school computer network last year and was suspended for a month, the jokes have become more of praise. He reaches across the table and grabs a few carrots from Sarah’s tray. Her lips press tight and she speaks a French phrase that none of us know except Lee, but from the tone of it and Lee’s retreat, it must have meant something in English like, don’t touch my food. Sarah’s long brown hair sits perfectly trimmed like she used a ruler to cut the edges straight and her fashionable appearance is only trumped by Lee’s designer jeans and Laura’s school cheerleading uniform.
Lee and Sarah are the only two at our table that can speak a foreign language. Lee knows Mandarin and French, but Sarah speaks fluent French. They never have much in particular to talk about in French, but the usual phrases about weather and well being and the less common phrases usually involving food, but they seem to enjoy the little French they do communicate with one another. I think Sarah just likes the idea of all things foreign. She fidgets with her fingers and pinches her face in childlike fashion when she is not eating and talking.
Additionally, they both always come to school dressed impeccably, something Robby could never aspire too. Robby twitches his nose when he ponders in deep thought which is too often for most of the students here. His verbose, over the head way of speaking lacks most of the local colloquialisms and common elocutions necessary for keeping the attention of most girls here, but he impresses the teachers which is where he spends much of his time.
He desires to attend Yale upon graduating, a school I have longed to get into most of my academic life. I have lived in this small town most of my life and am itching to get out of this place. Across from our table is where most of the cheerleaders sit along with Tanya. Laura would normally sit with them, but her current focus has been Taylor these past few months.
Like Tanya, Laura is quick and efficient to defend her turf. The cheerleaders are the talk of the school and if something or someone else mandates that attention away from them, they are effective in putting it, he or she back in its place. On the other side of the cafeteria is another table filled with ripped jeans, concert shirts, greased hair, and tattoos. Near the wall of the lunch room is the large table full of football and soccer players –the athletes. I sat with my friends there last year, but this year has been different for me, Robby and Lee trying to buckle down on our studies to ensure the acceptance of a top ten school. We try to separate ourselves from the parties and loud lunch hours in hopes that our sacrifices will pay off in the end. Interspersed throughout the rest of the café is everyone else neither notable nor influential, but filling the spaces of seats.
The bell rings to announce the end of lunch and we split up as we each head to our next class. My next class today is Physical Education. I head to the gym to change and then the track and field outside. That is when I see her. She is in her white gym uniform, sitting on one of the benches, waiting for her name to be called. It hasn’t been but about an hour and yet I feel like I've missed her.
“Evelyn.” The coach calls and her sharp piercing eyes dart up. She lines up in the third lane spot where Mr. Phillips points.
“Michael.” The coach calls again. I jump off the bench and stand next to Evelyn in the fourth lane. We all have our positions on the track. Standing next to her, it is difficult to concentrate. She smells like Jasmine flowers. Our gym instructor Mr. Phillips wants to assess our running speeds, so we need to run once around the track against the clock. If we cross the finish line under five minutes we pass, and over five minutes we fail. Most of us are timed at just over four minutes. A few of the class stranglers clock in at six and seven minutes.
I never have a problem running as I practice every other day with my friends. When we aren’t playing soccer on the soccer field we are playing hockey. The whistle blows and we attempt to outrace the others. Evelyn and I run side by side with only white chalk lines dividing us apart. We run head to head for the first two minutes and then I smile and wink as I pull past her. She returns my gesture with a shy laugh that she hides by looking down at the ground while she runs. I clock in at three minutes and thirty seconds, the fastest in the class. She completes the run in just over four minutes. She ranks eighth in the class after everyone has finished running. Not bad for the new girl. I heave while I race off the track and up to the benches where Evelyn sits. Her breathing is soft and fluid. There is no perspiration on her body like there is on all the other students including myself, and though she clocked in as eighth in the class, she looks like the one who has exerted herself the least.
“I hear its cold in Alaska.” I look at her as her hair tousles in the Colorado wind. The next group of kids line up for their assessment. Mr. Phillips blows his whistle a few times, indicating a few false starts. Evelyn wiggles her feet over the dirt ground, playing with the sand with her sneakers. Her arms are secured with her hands holding each side of the bench.
“Yes, it is.” Her voice is soothing and warm like lemon tea. Her coy smile fixates on me for a moment before she draws her head down.
“You must be used to the cold weather in Colorado then?” I ask clumsily. She looks up and nods her head as the sun glistens over her face, gold jewel colors radiate from her complexion. She looks away from me and her eyes cast down at the shadows on the dirt field from the afternoon sun. Her honey colored hair wraps around her face like a canopy and drops to her hands. She looks comfortable as she basks in the sun. I turn my head to look at her closely, to see the sparkle again, but it has past along with the sun. “My name is Michael.” She looks up again at me. “And you are Evelyn?”
“Yes.” She looks like she is about to say something more and then the bell rings. The class runs inside for showers and she follows behind the other girls. The next two classes move boringly along until the final bell rings and I pack up my things and jump into my truck to head home. My mom and dad, Sue and Henry, wait for me at the dinner table as I arrive late having stopped by the local library to pick up a few books we have to read for our English class. Despite what jokes my athletic friends make, I am studious and have been preparing to go away to Yale after graduation.
“I’ve made your favorite tonight, steak and potatoes.” Mom says standing over the kitchen stove. “Take a seat and I’ll be right there with you guys. My favorite two men in the word.”
“So how are things going Michael?” Dad says and begins eating now that mom has joined us at the table. My dad is a man of few words and when he begins eating, I know the conversation for his part is soon over.
“It’s fine. I did well on my English quiz today and picked up a few books for our reports due next term. Though I speak about school, all I can really think about is her.
“That’s good, glad to hear it.” Dad smiles and then continues eating. At night I can only think of her: her hair, her eyes, her scent, her skin, her voice. She is intoxicating. I go outside to kick my soccer ball on the driveway in the dark. I cool off my mind and let the chilly breeze wash over me. Then I head back inside to a restless sleep.
The next day I spend an extra ten minutes in the bathroom getting ready for school. For me that is a lot more extra time than usual. I wash my short, dark hair twice and stare into the mirror on the wall. I rub my fingers over the two pink pimples against my nose. At least my blue eyes are strong in color to distract girls from the imperfection. All the girls say my eyes are the first thing they notice about me, followed by my elongated eyelashes. I have to admit I’m kind of proud of my eyes, though I had nothing to do with getting them. I shave my chin as I do every morning or the stubble from my hair begins to grow and grab my cologne and spray my clothes a few times.
When I get to school, I wait anxiously for my first three classes to pass so I can go to English and see her. I head to the back of the class, knowing she will be there soon. She walks into class just as the bell rings and returns to her seat from yesterday. I smile at her awkwardly and she politely smiles in return. I try for a conversation, but my throat tightens at the thought. What do I say? I’ve already asked her about the weather. Normally, I would have no problems talking to girls. I am quite popular. But she is different. When I am near her, I feel different. I sit quietly, smiling at her for the rest of class until the bell rings and everyone heads out. I notice Taylor hawk eyeing me and wiggling his finger indicating that I should usher myself over to him quickly or all hell might break loose. I weed through the crowd and manage to get to him before Evelyn disappears completely.
“So, where is she?” Taylor asks in impatient anticipation.
“She left the room before I did. Didn’t you see her?” I retort. Taylor raises his brows and in obligatory surrender, I point to the tall, lean figure in a blue jean jacket turning the corner at the end of the hall.
“The girl dressed from the 80’s?” Taylor giggles heavy. I hadn’t thought about it. I hadn’t noticed it staring into her eyes and finding myself lost in her flowery scents, but he was right. She was dressed like she was from a different time. Taylor digresses from his launch of attack on my affections for Evelyn and concedes my wording of looks nice from yesterday’s lunch. “But you are right. She is hot.” He presses his lips together with a sound like a kiss slipping through them and he finishes with, ‘damn, those long legs are fine.”
For the next few weeks all I can do is think about her. I manage to say something in the second week like “ah, um, do you need my notes?” She nods her head, no. Undiscouraged I eagerly rush to open the classroom door for her as she leaves the English class when the bell rings, along with three other students finding their way there, taking advantage of my chivalry. If I was the teacher I would have marked their names on the black board next to detention: Julia, Harry, Cynthia with big red marks. Today these three block my path through the hall, keeping me from watching Evelyn’s delicate figure glide out of my line of sight as I had grown to enjoy the past weeks. Harry and Cynthia stop in the middle of the hall talking and I get stuck behind them. Then Evelyn turns the corner, disappearing.
It is in the beginning of the third week when I mutter something like, ‘do you need any paper,” while dropping my own paper on the floor, distracting her from saying anything back to me. I look up at her with puppy eyes and manage to squeeze out of my mouth, “would you like...” and then the bell rings. I wanted to invite her to lunch, to sit with me at my table. I figure this will give us time to get to know each other better, rather than sitting in silence in English and gym class.
At the end of the third week I finally muster the courage to ask her out on a proper date without feeling she will reject me completely. I see her pencil break half way through lecture notes and I pull out an extra one out of my bag to hand it to her. Can she see right through me? Maybe I should not be so attentive? But she seems so fragile to this small town and doesn’t seem to know many people.
“Would you like to go out tonight?” I speak slowly, not realizing fully that I am actually asking her out and she is actually listening. I may have been imagining it as I did so many times in class. “I mean if you’re not busy over the weekend.” The words spit out of my lips from a frustrating three weeks of denying myself the privilege of conversing with her. But it is Friday and I don’t have exciting plans, unless one calls soccer practice with friends exciting, so I brave the embarrassment of my impulsive question.
“Where?” She replies. My eyes open up wide with excitement as she talks to me and it hits me that this is real, not in my head. She is talking with me and I am mystified by her presence.
“The Main Star Cinemas, it is up the street from where I live, thirty minutes from the school.” She hesitates in her answer and then in apologetic tones says, “I...I can’t. I’m sorry.” She looks at me like she desperately wants to say yes, but can’t.
“Perhaps you would rather go with some other friend?” I look down at the desk and play with the pencil in my hand.
“No, that’s not it. I’m just…I would just…rather do something closer to home.” She looks at me and away and back at me as she says this.
“Ok,” I say hopeful with my eyes widening. “Where do you live?”
“Across from Lake Forest.” She tilts her head to the left and her hair falls away from her face and emerges is the warm heart-shape of her forehead to her jaw line.
“Way over there?” I giggle.
“I like to stay as close to home as possible in the evenings, if you don’t mind?” Her tone becomes serious.
“There is a movie theater across the street from Lake Forest near where you live, Major Cinemas. We could go there?” Evelyn ponders the thought for a moment. “It’s a date?” I say like a question and when she returns my smile it is confirmed. “I’ll pick you up around sevenish?” I conclude and Evelyn hands me a piece of paper where upon she has scribbled directions to her house. A glitter of happiness sparks in my baby blue eyes and I wait for her to look at me again with her engaging emerald eyes. I carry an achieved smile on my face throughout the rest of the day, a smile everyone at the lunch table was quick to pick up on.
I anxiously drive myself home and park the truck in the driveway behind my mom’s Volvo. I run up to my bedroom and throw my hands into my closet, passing over the array of clothes I have collected over the years. Nothing seems right. I don’t want to appear too decadent. I don’t want to appear too casual like I don’t care. I find a dark blue pair of jeans and a nice brown wool sweater. That might look nice. The jeans are causal, but expensive. The sweater is elegant and also has a casual feel to it.
I run to the bathroom to fix my hair. I stare at myself in the mirror and notice my hair has blown into some kind of strange upward spiral from the windows rolled down in my truck. I knew it would happen. My hair is always a mess when I leave my windows down. But I wasn’t thinking about my hair as I drove home, I could only recall she said, yes. I wash my hair with a new shampoo my mom bought. It has a nice balance of fragrance, but not much of a perfume smell. I shave again just to be sure of hiding any stray stubble that has grown in the last seven hours and then dress. I go downstairs to eat dinner and then rest in the lounge room until it is time to leave. Moments pass slowly while I tap my fingers on the table and though it must have only been about twenty minutes, it feels like two hours. Finally, it is time to go and I can’t wait to see her.
