Love Along The Paperclip novel Chapter 3

Mr. Emerson begins shuffling papers around on his cluttered desk. I take a step closer to it.

"Mr. Emerson?" He looks up and my green eyes meet his soft brown ones. Unlike Colton's, however, Mr. Emerson's eyes can't make my heart flop no matter how kind they look. "Why did you choose Colton and I? And why do you need two people?"

Mr. Emerson smiles. "If I told you that, then I'd have to kill you."

Maybe Colton and I were right about the paperclip.

"Hey, where were you?" Adrienna asks when I finally arrive at our lunch table.

I sit down across from her and open my paper bag, pulling out a sandwich. "Just," I glance down the table, where Colton and his buddies usually sit, and find it empty. Satisfied, I continue, "Agreeing to the worst summer ever."

Adrienna raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow, indicating for me to continue.

"Mr. Emerson asked Colton and I to spend the summer getting his grandmother's house in order. Boxing, cleaning, that sort of thing. And we'd get paid."

The eyebrow rises higher.

"You're wondering what's so bad about that."

"Well, yes." She flicks her long black hair over her shoulder. I try not to be jealous of the way it's so straight and glossy.

I tick the reasons off on my fingers; my sandwich flops around with each point. "For one, it's Colton. Two, it's for almost the entire summer. Three, I'm not sure I'm ready to take on cleaning an entire house. And four, it's Colton."

"I see." Adrienna examines the many bangles on her slender wrists. She watches them slide up and down for a moment before her dark eyes snap to mine. "And you're worried your feelings for Colton will get in the way."

Adrienna has somehow managed to find out how I feel about Colton, despite my best efforts to convince even myself that he's just an annoying boy who is distracting.

"Correct."

"Uh huh," Adrienna muses over my predicament while I finish my sandwich.

Finally she sighs. "Why don't you just date the boy?"

"Because he's immature and obnoxious and will distract me from my studies. Plus, he doesn't like me."

"Fine." Adrienna rolls her eyes; she is convinced Colton is in love with me.

I study my clump of grapes. If I just stuck a paperclip into each one and froze it, it would become a grapecicle. Kids and parents everywhere would love them because they're healthy and delicious. I should suggest this use of a paperclip to Colton; it could catch on.

"Then just channel your feelings into becoming friends." Adrienna says.

I pop a grape into each cheek so they bulge out like a chipmunk's. "How so?"

"Well, it wouldn't hurt to be nice to him for a change."

"Nice?" It's hard to talk with three grapes in each cheek.

"Yes, Cassidy, nice. You know, not being so sarcastic? Maybe even flirting a little?"

My eighth grape shoots out of my mouth at the word 'flirt'. It hits Adrienna on the forehead.

"Bull's-eye!" Shouts a guy from another table, pumping his fist in the air.

Adrienna wipes away the spittle on her forehead with a napkin, not looking amused.

Out loud, I say only, "Nothing."

"It's not nothing. I know you, Carlson, and you never miss an opportunity to shoot me down."

I'm also trying out Adrienna's 'be nice' technique. So far, I'm not sure if it's working.

"Fine, I'm also not sure if it was such a good idea to agree to clean Mr. Emerson's grandma's house."

"The truth comes out." Colton steers us around in a few small circles before resuming our natural path to my car.

I feel slightly dizzy, although from the spinning or close proximity I'm not sure.

"Why don't you want to help Mr. Emerson anymore?"

We've arrived at my car. Colton follows me to the driver's side and leans against the car.

"I don't know." I open the driver's door and stay like that for a minute, bent at the waist and half peering into my slightly messy automobile.

"There must be a reason."

There is: I don't want to work with you.

But, if I'm sticking with the whole 'be nice' routine, I should refrain from saying hurtful phrases. And I think that qualifies as a hurtful phrase. So instead I say something along the lines of, "Iuhgno," as I get in the car.

"As much as I'd like to, I don't speak Cassinese." Colton says before dashing around the front of my car and into the passenger's seat before I've even inserted the key into the ignition. "Aha! Beat you! Beat you!" He does a strange little happy dance involving only his arms and his pointer fingers pointed up.

"Real mature. Now get out of my car."