October 1996
Mr Anders’ social studies class was the most boring part of fifteen-year-old Adam’s week. They were doing a module on the industrial resolution and he really struggled to care. Eli Whitney. Cotton gin. Luddite Rebellion. Blah blah blah. Whatever.
The room filled with whispers as the door swung open. The school librarian had that same smile she always wore. Everything was a delight. Everyone was lovely.
Adam wondered if she even knew how to frown. Like, maybe the muscles of her face have forgotten how to do sad or even neutral expressions.
But then he caught a glimpse of the girl standing behind Mrs. Graham – and everything else fell away. She was the most perfect person he’d ever seen. The girl. Not Mrs. Graham. She was about his own age and dressed the way all the girls were: a white blue blouse paired with a long navy blue skirt. But something about her made her look like she’d be more at home in her phys-ed kit. She played sports; he was almost certain of it. Probably all of them.
Her dark blond hair was short. Most of the girls in his class had so much product in their hair that he’d probably cut himself if he had the audacity to touch them. But this girl, whoever she was, had hair he could only describe as fluffy. He wanted to put his hands in it; he wanted to—
“Earth to Adam Michaels.” Mr. Anders knocked on Adam’s forehead, scaring the crap out of him. “Mrs Graham asked you to move over, Adam. Make room for Eve, please.”
Adam blinked. “Who’s Eve?”
Mr Anders took a slow breath, like the worst sin in the world was a fifteen-year-old guy not hear everything said to him. “Adam Michaels, Eve Kravchuk. Eve, Adam.”
Adam’s face heated up at the whispers from the row behind “Adam and Eve.”
Someone else – Don, maybe – picked up the rhyme. “Sitting in the Garden of Eden.”
The first voice, who Adam realised must be Becky Boiko, added, “K-I-S-S-I-N-G.” He really frigging hated Becky. It was a sin to hate anyone – he knew that. But she really rubbed him the wrong way.
Mr Anders ignored the taunting. “Not sure why you need a personal introduction, Adam. But I think you’ve disturbed my class long enough now. Mrs Graham told you to shift your chair. So I suggest you shift your chair and make Eve feel welcome.”
Adam stopped midway through repositioning his chair at the sound of a new voice.
“It’s Evie, actually.” This girl held her chin up as she looked directly into Mr Anders’s eyes. Oh, this girl was bold – Adam loved that. He wished he had what it took to be so brave.
