This Girl: A Novel

They’re trying to fight to get away so I strengthen my grip. I look back up at her and we lock eyes.
    Wow. Those eyes. They’re the most incredible shade of green I’ve ever seen. I try to compare the color to something, but nothing comes to mind. It’s so unique, it’s like her eyes have just invented their own hue.
    Studying her features, I conclude she can’t be the boy’s mom. She looks my age. At the least, maybe nineteen or twenty. I need to find out her name. If I know her name I can look up her Facebook page and at least see if she’s single.
    Christ. This is the last thing I need in my life right now. A crush.
    I feel like she knows what I’m thinking, so I force myself to break our gaze. The boy takes my moment of distraction and uses it to his advantage. He breaks free and slices at me with an imaginary sword, so I look back up at the girl and mouth “help.”
    She yells “brains” again and lunges forward, pretending to bite Caulder on top of the head. She tickles them until they melt onto the concrete driveway, then she stands back up and laughs. Her cheeks flush when she meets my gaze again and she contorts her mouth into an uncomfortable grimace, like she’s suddenly embarrassed. Her unease disappears just as fast as it appeared and is replaced by a smile that suddenly makes me want to know every single minute detail about her.
    “Hey, I’m Will,” I say, extending my hand out to her. “We live across the street.” She places her hand in mine. It’s soft and cold, and the moment I wrap my fingers around hers, the physical contact sends a shockwave straight through me. I don’t remember the last time a girl has had this kind of immediate effect on me. It must be my lack of sleep last night.
    “I’m Layken,” she says, her uneasiness once again masking her smile. “I guess I live . . . here.” She glances at the house behind her, then back to me.
    She doesn’t look too pleased about the fact that she lives “here.” That same look she had while sitting in the U-Haul consumes her features again and her eyes suddenly grow sadder. Why does that look affect me so much?
    “Well, welcome to Ypsilanti,” I say, wanting desperately to make that look go away. She looks down and it occurs to me that I’m still awkwardly shaking her hand, so I quickly pull it away from hers and shove my hands in my jacket pockets. “Where are you guys moving here from?”
    “Texas?” she says.
    Why does she say it like a question? Did I just ask a stupid question? I did. I’m making stupid small talk.
    “Texas, huh?” I say. She nods her head, but doesn’t come back with a response. I suddenly feel like an intrusive neighbor. I don’t know what else to say without making it even more awkward, so I figure my best move at this point is to retreat. I bend over and grab Caulder by the feet, throwing him over my shoulder, then tell her I’ve got to get him to school. “There’s a cold front coming through tonight. You should try to get as much unloaded today as you can. It’s supposed to last a few days, so if you guys need help unloading this afternoon, let me know. We’ll be home around four.”
    She shrugs. “Sure, thanks.”
    Her words are laced with the slightest hint of a southern drawl. I didn’t know how much I liked southern accents until now. I continue across the street and help Caulder into the car. While he’s climbing inside, I glance back across the street. The little boy is stabbing her in the back and she lets out a fake cry and falls to her knees. Her playful interaction with him is just one more thing that intrigues me about her. After he jumps on her back, she glances up and catches me staring at her. I shut Caulder’s door and walk to my side. Before I get in, I muster a smile and wave, then climb into the car with an overwhelming urge to punch myself.
    •••
    AS SOON AS the bell for third period rings, I open the lid to my coffee and pour two extra packets of sugar in. I’m about to need it. There’s something about some of the students in third period that rub me the wrong way. Especially Javier. That kid is such a jackass.
    “Morning, Mr. Cooper,” Eddie says, taking her seat. She’s as bubbly as ever. I’ve never seen Eddie in a bad mood, come to think of it. I need to figure out her secret, since the coffee obviously isn’t doing it for me today.
    “Morning, Eddie.”
    She turns and kisses Gavin on the cheek, then settles into her desk. They’ve been