moonbird
08-19-2010, 12:47 PM
His name was Trevor Young, but most people just called him Shivers.
"Hey, Shivers!" they'd call, "why ya shakin? Whatcha scared of, Shivers?"
Trevor would keep his eyes glued to his book and try to ignore them, but there was always pain on his face.
No one knew exactly why Trevor shook. We figured there was some weird medical syndrome he had, like a form of Tourette’s or something. But he didn't have spasms; rather, he shook all the time. Just a little bit, but enough to be noticeable. He looked like he was shivering in the cold; hence his nickname, Shivers.
I guess you could call Trevor an outcast, but really he was an outcast of the outcasts. He tried to be like them; he wore their skinny jeans and Converse shoes, and he had dark hair that hung down over his eyes like they did. But every time he tried to join the others, they only laughed. "Go away, Shivers," they'd say. "You don't belong anywhere."
So Trevor kept to himself, reading and thinking, trying to stay out of everyone else's way.
I'd known who he was for a couple of years, but I never actually met him until my sophomore year, in English class. I was assigned the seat next to his.
I'd always felt a little sorry for the boy they called Shivers, so I held out my hand to him and said, "Hi, Trevor. I'm Maya."
He stared at my hand for a moment, as if unsure of what to do. Then he shook it without a word. As his hand touched mine, I felt his faint shivers pass through me, and for a second my entire arm was vibrating gently. Then he let go, and the vibrating stopped.
Class began then, and for the moment I turned my attention away from the dark, quiet boy sitting next to me.
English was last period of the day for me, so after class ended I gathered up my things and headed out the door toward the parking lot.
"Hey there, whore," came a nasal, smirking voice from behind me.
I stopped dead in my tracks. Oh God, I thought. Not her again.
"Hey, Catherine," I replied, not turning around. "Apparently you managed to tear your mouth away from your idiot of a boyfriend for a few seconds."
Her voice rose. "You take that back, you little--" She stopped suddenly. "Go home, Shivers," she sneered.
I spun around. Trevor was standing directly between me and Catherine, facing her. His hands trembled, and a notebook slid out onto the pavement. As he reached down to get it, his unsteady hands dropped the rest of his books. Papers flew everywhere.
"Good job, Shivers," Catherine taunted, obviously enjoying herself. "Better pick those up before your girlfriend here sees how stupid you look."
I took a step toward him.
Trevor threw me a look over his shoulder. He mouthed silently, Go.
Finally I understood. I was in my car in seconds, and then my key was in the ignition and I was backing out of the parking lot.
In my rearview mirror I saw Trevor silently gathering up his books. Catherine had completed her taunting and left him alone.
I turned off my car and got out. Trevor didn't look up as I approached him. He was struggling to pick up his books, and a stray paper fluttered to my feet.
I picked it up. "You dropped your books on purpose, didn't you?" I asked him quietly.
His eyes met mine, and he said in a calm, soft voice, "Yes."
"Why?" I asked, handing him the paper.
He shuffled his things into a pile and stood up. "Because you were the first person in five years to call me Trevor," he answered quietly.
For what felt like a long time, we stood alone in the parking lot, waiting for the other to speak. Finally he said softly, "Would you be insulted if I kissed you?"
Automatically I nearly said “yes.” After all, Trevor was at the bottom of the social totem pole, and I was toward the top. But then I saw the expression on his face, a mixture of hope and anxiety, and I wondered if I was the only girl Trevor had ever wanted to kiss, and how much courage it must have taken to ask me. I smiled up at him and answered, "Not at all."
I had to stand up on my tip-toes because he was so tall, but our lips met. For a moment he hesitated, unsure of himself. Then he kissed me back, clumsily but earnestly. His arms folded around my back, and my eyes looked into his. I'd never noticed what beautiful eyes he had...
I kissed the boy they called Shivers with a new kind of feeling that I’d never felt before. Maybe it was love; maybe it was just the sweet, soothing feeling of his chest shivering gently against mine. Personally, I think it was both. But that’s all for the future to tell.
Most people don’t call him Shivers anymore (my friends and I made sure of that), but I am the only girl who gets to call Trevor mine.
"Hey, Shivers!" they'd call, "why ya shakin? Whatcha scared of, Shivers?"
Trevor would keep his eyes glued to his book and try to ignore them, but there was always pain on his face.
No one knew exactly why Trevor shook. We figured there was some weird medical syndrome he had, like a form of Tourette’s or something. But he didn't have spasms; rather, he shook all the time. Just a little bit, but enough to be noticeable. He looked like he was shivering in the cold; hence his nickname, Shivers.
I guess you could call Trevor an outcast, but really he was an outcast of the outcasts. He tried to be like them; he wore their skinny jeans and Converse shoes, and he had dark hair that hung down over his eyes like they did. But every time he tried to join the others, they only laughed. "Go away, Shivers," they'd say. "You don't belong anywhere."
So Trevor kept to himself, reading and thinking, trying to stay out of everyone else's way.
I'd known who he was for a couple of years, but I never actually met him until my sophomore year, in English class. I was assigned the seat next to his.
I'd always felt a little sorry for the boy they called Shivers, so I held out my hand to him and said, "Hi, Trevor. I'm Maya."
He stared at my hand for a moment, as if unsure of what to do. Then he shook it without a word. As his hand touched mine, I felt his faint shivers pass through me, and for a second my entire arm was vibrating gently. Then he let go, and the vibrating stopped.
Class began then, and for the moment I turned my attention away from the dark, quiet boy sitting next to me.
English was last period of the day for me, so after class ended I gathered up my things and headed out the door toward the parking lot.
"Hey there, whore," came a nasal, smirking voice from behind me.
I stopped dead in my tracks. Oh God, I thought. Not her again.
"Hey, Catherine," I replied, not turning around. "Apparently you managed to tear your mouth away from your idiot of a boyfriend for a few seconds."
Her voice rose. "You take that back, you little--" She stopped suddenly. "Go home, Shivers," she sneered.
I spun around. Trevor was standing directly between me and Catherine, facing her. His hands trembled, and a notebook slid out onto the pavement. As he reached down to get it, his unsteady hands dropped the rest of his books. Papers flew everywhere.
"Good job, Shivers," Catherine taunted, obviously enjoying herself. "Better pick those up before your girlfriend here sees how stupid you look."
I took a step toward him.
Trevor threw me a look over his shoulder. He mouthed silently, Go.
Finally I understood. I was in my car in seconds, and then my key was in the ignition and I was backing out of the parking lot.
In my rearview mirror I saw Trevor silently gathering up his books. Catherine had completed her taunting and left him alone.
I turned off my car and got out. Trevor didn't look up as I approached him. He was struggling to pick up his books, and a stray paper fluttered to my feet.
I picked it up. "You dropped your books on purpose, didn't you?" I asked him quietly.
His eyes met mine, and he said in a calm, soft voice, "Yes."
"Why?" I asked, handing him the paper.
He shuffled his things into a pile and stood up. "Because you were the first person in five years to call me Trevor," he answered quietly.
For what felt like a long time, we stood alone in the parking lot, waiting for the other to speak. Finally he said softly, "Would you be insulted if I kissed you?"
Automatically I nearly said “yes.” After all, Trevor was at the bottom of the social totem pole, and I was toward the top. But then I saw the expression on his face, a mixture of hope and anxiety, and I wondered if I was the only girl Trevor had ever wanted to kiss, and how much courage it must have taken to ask me. I smiled up at him and answered, "Not at all."
I had to stand up on my tip-toes because he was so tall, but our lips met. For a moment he hesitated, unsure of himself. Then he kissed me back, clumsily but earnestly. His arms folded around my back, and my eyes looked into his. I'd never noticed what beautiful eyes he had...
I kissed the boy they called Shivers with a new kind of feeling that I’d never felt before. Maybe it was love; maybe it was just the sweet, soothing feeling of his chest shivering gently against mine. Personally, I think it was both. But that’s all for the future to tell.
Most people don’t call him Shivers anymore (my friends and I made sure of that), but I am the only girl who gets to call Trevor mine.