Landlocked (A water witch novel) by C.S. Moore

and it wasn’t okay to treat anyone like that. I wound through the busy hall and stepped into class. It was about half full, which could only mean that I wasn’t late for a change. I sat next to Clarissa, who was wearing her war face already.
    “So what are we going do to this dope? Should I glare at him right away, or should we be nice and set him up for some type of public humiliation?” she asked. “Personally, I would go with the humiliation option. And don’t go all Disney on me, he deserves it!”
    “You’re right, he does. But I don’t really want to put in the effort that a set up would take, I mean the planning stage alone—” I was joking, but she interrupted me in a whisper.
    “No it’s all planned out already, you get your seductress hat on and talk him into a little midnight skinny dip. While you’re distracting him, I’ll grab his clothes, maybe even a little call to the police is in order. A teenage boy running through town naked is frowned upon. He’ll be arrested. Thrown into a police car naked, boom!” she said dramatically. “Did I blow your mind?”
    “Maybe a little… I pity the fool that breaks your heart.”
    The bell rang loudly and Jaron’s seat was still empty.
    “I’m just going to glare at the door during the whole class so he doesn’t sneak in and miss my evil eye,” she said, turning to the door.
    “That’s really not necessary, Clarissa,” I said and tried to focus on Mr. Walker. But as interesting as the lecture was, I couldn’t stop turning my head to the open door every few seconds. I wanted to see him again. Wanted to see if what happened changed the way I saw him. I hoped it did. I didn’t want to pine after a guy that treated people like dirt.
    “Is there something out there more interesting than me, ladies?” Mr. Walker called to us.
    “More interesting than you, never!” Clarissa assured.
    We turned our heads and did well at not sneaking too many glances for the rest of the period. Where was he? Did he have a long party weekend or something? Maybe first period started too early for him.
    On my way to second period art, Clarissa told me to keep her option in mind. I crossed the room and sat down at my easel. I had a blank canvas that needed attention. So I picked up my pallet and squirted a few dabs of oil paint on it. I looked toward the door as the bell rang, but Jaron was missing in that class too. Maybe he was embarrassed about the way it had gone down, and he didn’t want to see me. What was he going to do, just show up at third period every day and hope no one noticed? I put my brush to the canvas and let my mind run circles around what I’d say to him if he showed up late. I would be strong and wouldn’t let him see how much his rejection had affected me.
    Running my brush over the canvas and loading it with paint was therapeutic. Class was almost over and all hope of a confrontation with him died out. That was my last class with him.
    “Is that…” a voice pulled me out of my thoughts.
    “What?” I asked, leaning away from my canvas. It was the class gossip, and I had to try not to roll my eyes.
    “Is that the new kid?”
    “Huh?” I looked at my painting, and the brush dropped from my fingers. It was a dark portrait of Jaron; his tan face was emerging from a swirl of dark grays and blues. “No, of course not,” I said.
    “Well it looks an awful lot like him,” she said in a teasing voice.
    “It didn’t turn out right.” I covered the canvas before anyone else could see. The bell rang and I bolted for the door.
    The next day after second period, when Jaron still hadn’t shown up, I went into history class during lunch period and took my test early. I needed to go to the lake and forget about him. I hated staring at the door for an hour just hoping he’d walk through it. I wasn’t even sure if I was waiting for him to walk through so I could yell at him, or wanted him to show up just so I knew that he wasn’t a figment of my