CHAPTER THREE
❛ chestnut brown eyes and swooshy hair. ❜

I NEVER USUALLY TOOK THE BUS TO SCHOOL since my Mom always used to insist on driving me there. It was on her way to work, and she said it was convenient. However, it seemed that these following weeks were going to be an exception, as Syd usually took the bus and Aunt Maggie was insistent on us two having 'bonding time.'

So, there I was. Sat on the school bus next to Sydney Novak, on my way to do the daily grind of the school day.

     I have to admit that the bus wasn't the most... pleasant thing that I'd experienced. Living so near to school had meant that I'd missed out on that world entirely, so in one way I was somewhat excited to see what it was like. Unfortunately, it was disappointing. Too much dried-up gum under seats, lack of fresh air and unnecessary shrieking for my liking.

Sydney's head was leaning against the window, and I had my right leg stretched out into the aisle. I didn't think there was much point in starting any conversation since neither of us were good at keeping it up, so I slipped my phone out of my pocket and switched it on. I still found it so bizarre having a touchscreen phone — for years I'd used this little Nokia flip phone which did the trick just fine. But it finally broke at the beginning of this year, hence why I'd been given an 'upgrade' for my seventeenth birthday in June. I mean, don't get me wrong, I loved it, and felt so high-tech with my touch screen phone... but part of me felt nostalgic for having to jam my fingers into that stiff little keypad when sending a text to get the right letter.

There was a vibration that shot immediately through my fingertips as my phone woke up from its doze.

New Message — Stanley Barber, 11:06PM

I'd only just seen it now. He must have sent it after I'd gone to bed, because I usually switched off my phone when I went to bed, because who needed that distraction when I needed sleep?

     Still startled about how sensitive the screen was to my touch, I opened his message: 

Him: Hi, it's Stan :-) just wanted to check that you definitely got my number.

     I wrote back, and surprisingly, a bubble with three dots bobbed up immediately after I sent my response:

Me: Hi Stanley. Yes I got your message, thanks

Him: Coolio! Hey are you taking the bus today?

Me: Yeah... why?

Him: Say hello to Syd for me.

Me: Stanley, we've been over this. I would REALLY prefer if I wasn't being your wingman... if you like her just tell her!

Him: It's not that simple...

     "Are you texting Stanley Barber?"

     What? I whipped my head up from my screen to meet Sydney's narrowed eyes, her mouth sunken into a sour-looking expression. She's speaking! To me! "Uh, yeah." I told her, quickly shoving my phone back into my pocket. "He was just asking about... homework."

     "It's okay, I saw the message... and your angry typing." she leaned her head against her two fingers, shoulder propped up on the windowsill.

Nodding slowly, I sunk further into my seat, the belt digging into my belly slightly. "I'm no genius, but I think he might like you."

She shot me a look, a trace of a smirk on her lips, as if to say "No shit, Sherlock!" before she turned back to gaze out of the window.

I fiddled with my hands, fingers intertwining with the others, when I caught Sydney in my peripheral doing the exact same on her lap. I couldn't help but notice her nails — they were unpainted, and twice as long as mine. But not long in the perfectly manicured way that lots of girls had them; they were long as if she hadn't bothered to clip them, grime starting to accumulate under them.

In comparison, I glanced down at my nails — completely clipped down and sporting sore-looking red ridges on the ones I'd tried to bite. I could almost hear Mrs. Foster pestering me about it in my head ("Clip those nails, Hallie! No cellist ever had a perfect manicure")

Despite those differences, the way we slumped in our seats, the sulks on our faces... it was easy to understand our childhoods of being mistaken as twins. Coincidentally, I felt further away from her than ever.

What happened to us?

***

"Ruhe, bitte." Mr. Klingemann settled down the class and gestured to the chalkboard wildly, as he adjusted his oval-shaped glasses. He had written the words Was machst du gern in deiner Freizeit? in his immaculate, cursive handwriting. "Was bedeutet das? Freiwillige, bitte."

The class was so silent that you could hear a pin drop. Barely anyone ever volunteered in German and the teacher ended up having to pick on people — which, unfortunately, ended up being me a lot of the time since I was usually guaranteed to get the answer right.

Mr. Klingemann made eye contact with me at the back of the classroom, and a hot flush made my cheeks burn. Please not me, please, please, just pick someone else...

"Ah, Hallie! Was gibt es auf Englisch?"

Oh brother...

"Um..." I paused, swallowing the dryness in my mouth and sitting awkwardly upright in my chair. "Is it 'What do you like to do in your free time?'"

"Ja! Prima, Hallie." he clasped his hands together, his floppy auburn hair falling into his hair and under his glasses as he did. I immediately bowed my head down to the table, my eyes burning into the desk and wishing it would swallow me up. I mean, I wasn't embarrassed about my answer, because I was confident that I was correct — but it was the stares I got from kids who thought I was a try-hard that made me squirm.

"Alright guys, if you could turn to page forty-six in your books, please — Seite sechsundvierzig, bitte — and read the text about Sebastian's weekend." Mr. Klingemann instructed, the chalk pinched between his fingers managing to keep up with his words in perfect synchronisation. "Then, with the person next to you, I want you to use the dictionary to find any words you don't know, and then translate it all into English."

His words hit me at the same time that he finished writing Partnerarbeit on the board. Seriously? I disliked partner work a lot — even if the person was nice, I just ended up either taking over the workload or not getting a whole lot done because I was distracted.

     My partner scooted up next to me, his chair dragging along the floor slightly and squeaking in a frequency that made me wince. "Hi, Hallie." he gave me a little nod.

     "Hi, Ryder." I nodded back, meaning to turn and make eye contact with him but ending up staring into the distance, as my neck muscles seemed to have chickened out and leave me with eighty degrees still to go.

Ryder, like me, had chosen German as one of his electives and we'd been sat next to each other the whole time. And throughout that time... I'll admit, I had become somewhat fond of him. I actually think we have a lot in common — we're both quite factual-minded people and very introverted, so surely he already understands me. He's like a nut I'd like to crack one day... not in a sexual way! Ew, gross. I just mean I want to figure out what makes him tick.

Now, I'm not one to obsess over someone's physical appearance, but frankly I would be lying if I said that Ryder wasn't aesthetically pleasing to look at. He has a few appealing qualities, definitely. For instance, his eyes are chestnut brown and always inquisitive. There's something about brown eyes that I find so much deeper than any other colour; you can get lost in them so easily. And his hair — it does this... swooshy thing, and the way it falls across his face isn't messy enough to be irritating, but just misplaced enough to look somewhat rugged.

But at the end of the day, his chestnut brown eyes and his swooshy hair mean nothing if he doesn't have any substance in his personality. Then otherwise he's just another face. That's the problem I've had with other guys in the past — not that they've come flocking or anything, but I just can't seem to find that kind of intellectual soulmate.

Luckily Ryder is pretty competent in German, and get this; he's a musician too! With his own band and everything (they're called The Flans and he's the lead guitarist.) Surely that's a good match?

We'd just been reading the passage for the past minute or so, when Ryder suddenly piped up and asked, "Sorry, I've had a mind blank. What does this word mean?" as he pointed to it on the page. "Uh... das Kegeln?"

"Umm," my chin had been resting on my propped-up arm, and almost slipped as I snapped out of my daze. "I think it means 'Bowling.'"

"Oh, cool. I thought it was cake, but never mind." Ryder let out a breathy laugh, that almost sounded exaggerated. I chuckled along, shaking my head. "I guess I don't need a dictionary if I've got Hallie Novak-Miller, right?"

I swallowed. "Ha. Yeah." You're going red. Change the subject! "So... with this text. Um, I think he's basically saying that he plays tennis on Saturdays, but his favourite sport is swimming. Then on Sunday he lazed around and sent text messages to his friends, and then on Monday he wants to go bowling with his parents."

Ryder nodded curtly. "Yep, I agree. Who goes bowling with their parents, though? Kinda weird."

"Not if your parents are elite bowlers." I counter-argued without missing a beat, and made him laugh again. Sometimes I didn't know if he was laughing at me or with me, but I never felt too bad about it either way.

Once he'd stopped laughing, he leaned in a little closer. "Do you like bowling?"

"Yeah, I guess." I replied. "Do you?"

"I do, yeah." he smiled softly as he nodded, not taking his eyes off me. "I go sometimes with the guys in my band, so that's pretty rad. We've even done a gig there before."

I widened my eyes to try and look impressed (yes, I'm that bad at expressing emotions that I have to remind myself to make facial expressions on cue) and said "Wait, really?"

"Yeah, but it was kind of boring though." Ryder did that no-big-deal shrug that I saw him and his friends do a lot. "Just some middle aged men watching us and eating fries."

"Oh, that's a shame," I mumbled, half-listening whilst getting on with my work. No matter how much I liked Ryder, I wasn't going to let him make me fall behind. "Maybe they just have a bad taste in music."

"Well, how do you know? You still haven't listened to that CD I gave you of our songs." he suddenly inquired. I felt like I was in a police interrogation, and I froze. Truth be told, that CD was lying somewhere in a dark corner of my closet, unopened. It wasn't anything personal, it's just... that loud, screamy music isn't my type of thing. But there's no way I was going to tell him that.

"I, um... uhh..." I stammered, trying to magic up some kind of excuse, as he stared intensely at me. My non-existent dog ate it and digested it? I mixed it up with a Britney Spears CD and wondered why you sounded so feminine? I had to trade it with a drug lord in exchange for my family's life?

An abrupt and hearty laugh suddenly erupted from him, and I was quite taken aback — clearly so were some of my classmates around us, as they shot him strange looks, a couple of kids snickering. "Chill, Hallie! I'm just pulling your leg!"

"Oh... good one, that was—"

"Ryder!" Mr. Klingemann hissed from the front of the class, holding a finger up to his lips. "Du bist zu laut."

"Oh, sorry sir." Ryder apologised.

"Auf Deutsch!"

"Oh, right! Es tut mir Leid."

     My head was already down, pen to paper, eyes focusing in and out on the German sentences that needed decoding. Brain buzzing with Angeln and Fernsehen and Kino, I barely noticed Ryder trying to whisper to me until about the fifth time when it was harsher, and more impatient. "Yeah?" I muttered under my breath, not bothering to look up.

     "I'm just gonna cut to the chase here," he whispered, rubbing the back of his neck. "D'you think you'd maybe wanna hang out some time?"

     My pen slowed down, my eyes slowly rolling upwards to meet his. "W-what?"

     "I was thinking maybe.. the Bowling Alley? Tomorrow right after school or something? Seems kind of fitting after our conversation, doesn't it?"

     Hallie, you're buffering again. For fuck's sake just say something. ANYTHING! Don't sit there looking like an idiot! Even if it's totally random, just say something...

     "I... have homework." I kicked myself mentally. Not that random. "No, I don't! I lied. Yes. My answer is yes. I will... be there... to bowl... yep. But it'll have to be 4pm, because I have cello after school tomorrow."

     "I can deal with that. So, that's a yes?"

     "That's a yes."

     "Okay, great..."

     I nodded eagerly, getting back to my work again and finishing off my last sentence, trying to stop my pen from trembling between my sweating fingers. This is fine. Why am I freaking out? This is good! Social interaction is probably good for me, anyway. You'll go bowling with Ryder tomorrow and have lots of fun.

     "... it's a date."

     My pen spazzed out in my hand, flying up across the page and ruining my cursive 'y', but for once that was none of my concern.

     A date?

    A DATE?!

________________________

A/N:

not gonna lie, the first half of this chapter i was like 😬 but the second half was a lot more funny and inspiring to write! next chapter there will be a lot more sydney/hallie content, as well as more calvin!!! WOOO

if you haven't already noticed, i include a little song at the beginning of each chapter. since a big part of ianowt is the soundtrack, i thought this would be fun to do (since hallie is also a bit of a music buff) so if you want you can play it whilst you read, and in the author's note it tells you exactly when i'd imagined it to be in the background (as if it were an actual episode of ianowt)

here's some german translation of some of the phrases (because this chapter was basically just me flexing in german 🤪):

"ruhe, bitte" = quiet, please
"was bedeutet das?" = what does that mean?
"freiwillige, bitte" = volunteers, please
"prima!" = great!
"du bist zu laut" = you are too loud
"auf deutsch!" = in german!
"angeln" = fishing
"fernsehen" = tv
"kino" = cinema

anyway, i hope you guys enjoyed this chapter! what do you think of ryder? oh, and one more thing...

bloodwitch > the flans 😌

song of the chapter: 'mr sandman' - the chordettes
(hallie and ryder in german class)

published: 3rd april, 2020