Rain

Rain

I’ve never liked the rain. I don’t like the feeling of being wet and waterlogged, nor do I enjoy my makeup running into my eyes. Rain can’t even be escaped indoors, it just pounds insistently on the windows. It is loud and messy and I dislike it.

On the fifth day of April, it rained. I had seen the clouds that morning and felt the heaviness that always comes before, yet I’d stubbornly left my umbrella at home. That crucial misstep left me shivering under the awning of the library, watching the torrent rage just beyond me. A few other people, well prepared people, strolled into the towering marble building, shaking off their umbrellas or letting down their hoods as they did. None of them paid me any mind, mercifully.

I thought briefly about going back inside and waiting it out, but the sky showed no signs of letting up any time soon and I had already been there long enough. The mindless tapping of my foot on the floor reached a crescendo, and the nearest librarian gave me a sharp glare. I realized it was time to find my next haunt. If I had been in a fighting mood, I would have informed them that a research paper is tedious and their library was the only one around with the resources I needed, but I decided my future use of the library was more important.

“You stuck, Winnie?” someone asked me over the din of the rain. I glanced to my right in surprise and glimpsed the girl who had spoken sprawled out on one of the benches, sheltered from the onslaught by the overhanging roof of the building. She looked vaguely familiar, though I couldn’t figure out from where. Strawberry blonde hair fell around her shoulders, framing her pale, freckled face. A spiked leather jacket covered her shoulders, and she wore ripped jeans.

Cliché, I thought.

“Who wants to know?” I returned instead.

The girl on the bench looked amused at my question. I noted the way her lips twitched up and her nose crinkled.

“Hazel Knight. I’m in your AP Chem class, two rows behind you.”

The face finally clicked in my brain, and I remembered watching her give a presentation on Thermodynamics last month with rapt attention. She seemed almost bored the entire time, though to me the topic was fascinating. It was the breaks in her attention, though, the moments where she giggled at her friends in the back, that captured me most.

“You gave the Thermodynamics presentation,” I said dumbly. Hazel leveled a flat look at me, clearly trying to remember the event.

“Oh, yeah, I guess I did.” She paused, thinking. “So, are you?”

“Am I what?”

“Stuck.”

I rolled my eyes. What business was it of hers? I said as much.

“I mean, it’s not,” Hazel defended, “but I was gonna offer you an umbrella if you were. I don’t really need it, since this jacket has a hood.” She pulled the hood up onto her head as if to prove its function.

I was so confused I momentarily forgot to be perturbed at her intrusion. I must have tilted my head questioningly, because she smirked.

“But clearly you’re doing just fine on your own, so I’ll just—” Hazel rose to go inside.

“No!” I said, probably too loudly. “I mean, uh, if you’re offering, I’ll take it.” She graced me again with that smile, this time making her look self-satisfied. She sauntered over to me, crossing the distance quickly, with long steps, and held out a Mickey Mouse-themed umbrella.

My dismay must have shown on my face.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you have another option, Princess?”

I huffed and snatched the childish umbrella from Hazel’s waiting hands. I then stalked off, muttering thank you under my breath.

“What was that?” Hazel called after me, her grin audible.

I spun on my heel and shouted, “Thank you!” before opening the umbrella and traversing the slick parking lot to my car.

That Monday, I was exhausted. My research paper was going nowhere, despite the almost excessive time I’d spent on it. I had just enough energy to collapse into my desk before first period started and put my head down, my braids shrouding my face like a curtain. I had three different tests to take, plus a presentation, and that wasn’t even including—

A gentle laugh interrupted my thoughts, and I twisted around in my seat to find the source.

There she was again. The girl, Hazel, I reminded myself, was with her friends this time. She sat at the center of the group, eyes shining as she told some joke that had the others almost in tears. I had seen them all before, but their circles had never intersected with mine, small as it was, so I had no idea of their names.

When most of them had recovered, the tallest girl spoke.

“Isn’t your birthday coming up, Hazy?”

Hazy. Interesting.

“That it is. April nineteenth.” Hazel nodded, completely confident and in her element.

“So.” The other girl dragged the o out, and I suddenly found I didn’t like her much. “What do you want? Like, as a gift.”

Hazel sat there contemplating for a while, as if she had genuinely never thought about it before. “I suppose a book?”

Her friends laughed. Rude, I thought.

“What?” she said incredulously, laughing a bit as she did. “I’m serious!”

“No, sorry, Hazy,” the tall girl spoke again, “it’s just, I don’t think I’ve seen you read literally ever. Even in class, you just nod off.”

“Yeah, but that’s a textbook. I feel like I could get into reading actual books.”

Hazel’s friends laughed again, which somehow got on my nerves. Why was it so unreasonable for someone to read?

“Fine,” she playfully conceded, “just get me some snacks or something.”

The rest of the group flitted from one topic to the next, leaving Hazel and her birthday behind. Just as I realized I had somehow not blinked the entire conversation, Hazel locked eyes with me. Her lips quirked up in an unspoken question, and I spun back around. I felt my face flushing at the fact that I had been caught looking. But then again, what was the harm in looking? She couldn’t possibly know how long I had sat there, quietly observing like a ghost. And she certainly didn’t own that airspace, I could look wherever I wanted. I almost turned again to stare pointedly at her, but the bell rang and our teacher swooped in like a hawk to start class.

Still, the thought of Hazel’s birthday lingered in my head. I wondered what she’d do to celebrate, where she’d go, who she’d go with. I hoped that loud, tall girl wouldn’t be invited, or the rest of them for that matter. Maybe a part of me wished I’d be invited.

I found myself in countless bookshops over the next two weeks, combing through their selection. I was now on a mission. I saw numerous forgettable titles, mostly crappy romances and mass-produced mysteries. Nothing fit for an actual gift. I had to settle for horror; it seemed like something she might like.

On the morning of Hazel’s birthday, it rained. I quickly stuffed my things into my bag before pausing at the door and grabbing the umbrella I’d borrowed. I figured it would give me a legitimate excuse to talk to her, other than her surprise gift. The drive to school wasn’t bad, but the rain made it hard to see. I was grateful when I reached the parking lot in one piece. I sat in my car for a while, sipping on my sweetened coffee and relishing the quiet. Soon enough, the buses started arriving, and I pulled my bag from the backseat, got out, and unfolded Hazel’s umbrella.

As I tromped through the wet grass, an idea occurred to me. Once I got inside, I waited in the lobby, looking over my notes to keep myself busy. Much like the day at the library, the people walking by me to class paid no attention to the nervous girl leaning against a pillar. Just as I was sure the bell would ring and make me late, Hazel walked in.

She pulled her hood down with a sleepy look on her face. I almost let her walk by, too caught up in watching like a wallflower. Part of me was anxious. What if she didn’t actually want to know me? What if she didn’t like my gift? I shoved my doubt aside.

“Hazel!” I called out. Hazel looked around in confusion before she saw me waving half-heartedly. A grin broke out across her face, and suddenly I didn’t feel so nervous anymore. She wandered over to me, looking pointedly at her umbrella in my hand.

“Am I finally getting that back?” she joked. I sheepishly realized I probably had kept it much too long, about two weeks.

“Well, yes.” I handed it over. “But that’s not why we’re talking.” A curious look covered Hazel’s face, and I smiled at the way her eyebrows pinched together. I pulled the wrapped book out of my bag, which had been carefully covered by other things to protect it from the rain, and presented it to her.

“Happy birthday,” I told her quietly.

Hazel’s eyebrows shot up in shock. She quickly tore the star-patterned wrapping paper off and held up the book. “The Reckoning, huh? Looks interesting.”

“Well, I didn’t know what you’d like, and most of the popular books right now are crappy fantasy-romances, but—”

Hazel grabbed my hand.

“I meant it, Winnie. Thank you.” Her green eyes pierced mine, as if she saw something wonderfully surprising in them.

“Y-yeah. Of course. Any time,” I stammered out, still captive under her gaze.

Just then, the bell rang.

“Crap,” Hazel exclaimed. She took off running, my wrist still in her hand. I almost fell over but managed to keep pace with her as we rounded the corner into the science wing. Hazel jumped to one side, and I would have slammed into the guy she’d moved to avoid, but she pulled me out of the way laughing. I began laughing too, and by the time we reached our class, we were both desperately out of breath. Our chemistry teacher was not pleased, which earned me my one and only tardy. It was worth it.

The last day before spring break looked like a clear day. It was only a half day, so most classes had nothing more than a movie planned. I sat bored in my chemistry class, watching the millionth episode of Bill Nye the Science Guy. Hazel hadn’t walked into class that day, and my mind wandered to where she could be. Most of her friends sat in the back drawing on themselves or sleeping.

My eyes kept getting heavier and heavier. I realized I was going to fall asleep, just like the rest of them, and probably get yelled at since I was in the front row. To keep myself awake, I decided to go for a walk. I raised my hand, asked for the bathroom pass, and took the longest route possible to get there.

I passed through the language department and the art department before finally deciding to head back, lest I be caught by an overzealous hall monitor. My loop took me past the school garden, and I peered through the window absent-mindedly.

There, planted on the ground behind an azalea bush, was Hazel. She appeared to be painting her nails in a second coat of green; a book sat open next to her. I felt almost pulled to her.

I could’ve reported her. I could’ve gone back to class. I could’ve done a million other things, but I didn’t.

I looked down one end of the hall, then the other.

No one.

Nervously, I pushed open the door. Somehow, I had been convinced that an alarm would go off, or that someone would notice immediately. Nothing happened.

I walked over to the flower bush quietly and peeked behind it. When Hazel noticed me, she let out a yelp, spilling a drop of nail polish onto her shoe.

“Sorry!” I exclaimed, my face flushing from embarrassment. She would probably tell me to go away, to mind my own business. We weren’t even friends, why would I—

Hazel laughed.

“No, you’re fine Winnie, you just scared me. I thought you were one of the teachers.”

“But your boot?” I looked down, but she was already wiping the paint off the leather.

“It’s the same color, Princess, and it’s still wet. The boots are the least of my problems.”

Hazel beamed up at me reassuringly, and my anxiety melted. I folded my checkered skirt underneath me and sat down next to her.

“So what are you up to?” I elbowed her playfully.

“Just, y’know,” she waved her hand vaguely, “hanging around.”

I shook my head and looked over her shoulder to see what she was reading. Hazel tried to move the book, but I grabbed it before she could.

“Is this the book I gave you?” I asked her softly.

She looked embarrassed, something I had never seen on her. I wanted to laugh, but I realized it might come across as demeaning.

“Well?”

“Well what?” she returned, sounding small.

“Is it any good? I didn’t really know what you would like, but you seem like a horror person. Thoughts?”

Her face brightened, and she gently took my shoulders.

“It’s amazing.” The excitement in her eyes was clear, bouncing around like fireworks.

“I’m so glad you like it,” I told her while holding back a laugh.

“I love it. Thank you so much, Winnie.” She looked me in the eyes, and suddenly I realized we were very close together. Hazel seemed to notice too; she let go of my shoulders and looked down.

“I feel like I should repay you,” she murmured. I watched her very carefully. Slowly, she reached up into the bush in front of us and, with some searching, pulled out a perfectly formed azalea flower.

“For you,” she breathed, reaching to tuck it behind my ear. I couldn’t look away from her face: her eyebrows pinched in concentration, her lips turned up, her eyes gleaming with a quiet joy. Hazel caught me staring. Her hand touched my cheek while my arm came to rest on her shoulder. I felt a few droplets of rain fall cold on my scalp, though the day was still warm.

“Hi,” I whispered like an idiot.

“Hi,” Hazel giggled.

Then, she leaned in and pressed her lips to mine. All thoughts in my head ceased as I pulled her closer to me.

The rain began to pour. We broke apart laughing, and I saw a silent question in her eyes: What now? I knew if I chose to go back to class, she would go with me.

There was no way I was going to do that now. I smiled and nodded towards the parking lot, raising an eyebrow in a challenge. “Race you!” Hazel yelled and took off across the front yard towards her truck.

After three near-falls, I took off my Mary Janes and carried them as I ran after her. She slipped and fell in the wet grass, giving me the lead. My makeup ran into my eyes and my clothes became drenched, but I didn’t care. I jumped in the passenger seat of the truck first. Hazel was winded and covered in grass stains when she finally hopped into the driver’s seat.

She leaned over and kissed me once more, as a kind of surrender. When she moved away, I framed her face with my hands and admired her for a while.

I think I’m beginning to like the rain.