Melvin slammed his locker door shut. On the wall next to it hung a colorful poster advertising that year's Homecoming dance (the theme: "Party Like It's 1989"), and when Melvin laid his eyes on it he scowled. Turning away now, he made his way down the sophomore wing hallway, moving briskly, barely stopping to sidestep all the other students getting in his way.
Right now it was lunchtime, and while everyone else was heading towards the cafeteria, Melvin was making his way to the library, intent on getting a head start on his biology midterms and maybe on his finals, too, if he could find the right textbooks. As he stepped into the air conditioned building, he took a look around, noting the emptiness, the quiet. He took a deep breath, taking in the wonderful scent of aging paper and ink. It was the perfect atmosphere for studying.
Not that he really needed to study for a simple biology quiz. Still, it paid to be prepared.
He made his way to the library's expansive reference section and got to work picking out heavy encyclopedia after hefty dictionary, carting his haul to one of the tables and settling down to read and take notes. From outside he could make out the faint sounds of teenagers laughing and talking, enjoying their forty-minute break from schoolwork.
Couldn't be him.
It was halfway through his study session, as he was busy copying down an interesting fact about mitochondria and what they powered, that he heard the library door open again; someone else was coming in and plunking their stuff down on a table not that far from his. Curious, Melvin discreetly turned his gaze towards the newcomer.
Harold Hutchins sat in the library with him, backpack thrown carelessly atop the table, a notebook open in front of him and a handful of colored pens scattered over it. He bent over said notebook, seemingly scribbling something in it.
Oh, great. Now what is he doing here? Melvin thought.
As Melvin sat there, staring, Harold raised his head, spotted Melvin, and smiled, raising his hand to wave—
Immediately, Melvin felt himself blush. He ducked his head back down, trying to force his eyes to focus on the open textbook in front of him. Shoot shoot shoot he saw me he saw—
"Hey, Melvin."
A startled sort of half shriek, half gasp left Melvin, and he immediately clamped his hand over his mouth in embarrassment. Timidly, he shot a glance at Harold, now standing before his table with his backpack slung over his shoulder and his pens and notebook in hand, smiling amiably.
"Hel—....good afternoon to you too, Harold," Melvin replied, clearing his throat, straightening his posture, desperately trying to play it cool while fighting to regain his composure. To keep from making further eye contact with Harold he busied himself with organizing his annotated index cards, shuffling them into piles once and again.
"How come you aren't out at lunch?" Harold asked. Melvin almost replied with, Shouldn't I be asking you the same question?, but he stopped himself at the last moment, choosing instead to say, "I'm getting ready for my biology test next week. One can never be too prepared." A new thought occured to him then, seeing Harold out of the corner of his eye. "Say....is George not with you today?"
"He's—he's here, but he's not here with me. Right now. Our English teacher wanted to talk to him today so...." Harold shrugged. "I told him I'd be down here. Hey, mind if I sit here?"
"Uh—" But Harold was already pulling out the other chair, plopping his backpack down on the floor under it. Crossing his arms on the table, he smiled again and turned to look at Melvin, not unkindly.
"Hey, are you going to Homecoming?"
Melvin frowned. "No, I don't think I will. School dances are a terrible waste of time."
"Shame." Harold held his gaze on Melvin for a moment, before suddenly turning back down to face the notebook he'd laid down on the table. Closed. Even so, Melvin could still see the odd look on his face.
Something about that look made something knot in Melvin's chest.
"I....assume you and George are going, though? Don't you two usually go to these kinds of things together?"
"Yeah, we are. It's just...." Harold ran a hand through his hair. "Just—I was also kinda thinking that....I'd maybe like to go with someone else, too. Someone who's....maybe a little more than a friend?" He threw another glance at Melvin and then back to the notebook. "Except....I don't really know how I'm supposed to approach this other person."
Melvin was blushing again, suddenly feeling very out of his depth. "Well, I—I guess the best way would be to just—just talk to them? Be direct?" He worried a pencil in his hands, unconsciously. A brief question flashed in his mind:
Who?
"I guess. Yeah." Harold was frowning now. Both boys sat in silence for a few minutes, contemplative. Somewhere amidst the bookshelves a clock ticked away, counting down the minutes until the end of lunch.
Eventually Melvin cleared his throat shyly and said, "I think....I think if it were me in your situation, I'd probably chicken out."
At that Harold laughed, earning him a stern look from the librarian, and said, "You? Chicken out? Since when?"
"I—feelings are hard!" Melvin turned his head away from Harold to hide the flush in his cheeks from him. "Unfortunately, not everything is as simple and fun as splitting atoms!"
"No, no, I get what you mean. This boy, he's rocking my entire world right now and I don't even know how to ask him if I can borrow a pencil." Harold chuckled. Looked back at Melvin, thoughtful. "Although....more I think about it, maybe the party scene isn't really his thing after all."
"....Well." Melvin didn't know what to respond. Again, the boys fell silent, eyes locked, both deep in thought.
Ask me to go to Homecoming with you, Melvin suddenly thought. A horrifying thought. He turned sharply away from Harold. Scared. Where the hell had that come from??
Harold was about to say something in response when the library door clattered open and a voice called out, "Harold! Tell me you're still in here!"
"Back here!" Harold called back, overtop the librarian's angry shushing sounds. Now George sauntered over to the table, slamming his hands down on the surface enthusiastically. "What's up, gents and germs?" he said, glancing back and forth between Harold and Melvin.
"Melvin here was just giving me helpful life advice," Harold answered playfully. Melvin threw him a sneer.
"Oh really? What, is he telling you the best places to stash your thermo-nuclear reactor?" George and Harold both giggled at that one. Melvin rolled his eyes.
"I see George has returned from his meeting, so I think I'll be leaving you two to it," Melvin said, making to stand up and grab his things. Fully intending to leave the two alone. But:
"Nah, it's okay. We were just leaving." Harold said, standing and stashing his notebook into his backpack. Slapping a hand down on George's shoulder, he added, "Come on, it's five minutes 'til lunch is over, we can still grab some potato wedges."
"Alright." George slapped Harold's shoulder in return and turned to Melvin. "See ya, Einstein," he said. Started turning towards the door.
Harold lingered for the briefest of seconds. He turned to Melvin, waved another shy wave with another shy smile. "Bye, Melv," he said. Grinned.
Another tight feeling in Melvin's chest. "Y-yeah....see ya," he answered. And much to his horror, his own hand got up and waved back.
Harold chuckled softly and smiled wider. A strange soft look in his eyes. Looking right at Melvin and his stupid waving hand. Smiling.
He turned. And George and Harold walked out of the library together, talking and laughing.
Melvin was alone in the library once again. This time, the quiet didn't seem nearly as welcoming.
He brought his waving hand to his chest and held it there, feeling the thump-thump of his heart behind his ribs. Somehow, it always seemed to beat faster when Harold was around....
Melvin bit his lip.
Who was he talking about?
Outside, out in the courtyard, Melvin heard the lunch bell ring.
