I feel the eyes on me. They stare and stare. They do not blink. What is she doing with him, they say. They burn holes in my back and I imagine that people can look through those holes right to the other side, right through and down the hall. He moves closer to me and now I can smell him. He smells like soap and Polo and I want to inhale him, wrap myself in his smell, but not when the eyes are looking. I shiver when I think of the eyes. He notices and asks, Are you cold? No, I say. Not cold, just scared. Why are you scared, he asks. I don't know, I just am, I say. Don't be, he says. He tightens his brown hand in my pale one and I feel better, but then I remember the eyes and I shiver again. What is wrong, he says. I don't say anything and he takes me in his arms. Don't worry, he says. Everything is going to be okay. I look into his dark eyes and I see his concern. And I remember that he told me that my eyes are like the ocean. And I think that I love him. Okay, I say. I hug him and I do not feel the eyes. And I take his black hand in my white one and suddenly I feel the smiles. n
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.