could've been

A Story by Deinde

They're just children, living, walking, wondering... about what could've been.

could’ve been

The first time Ellie hears about him is the first week of her freshman year in high school. Her older brother is talking about how the strings orchestra is finally working to give out seating auditions and how he’s excited to see if he’ll ever get the first seat cellist position he deserves.

Ellie is cheering for him, of course, but she likes to ask about his classmates. Who’s expected to drop out? Who will move up? And what’s the name of that cute violin player always sitting in the back row with his head ducked to cradle a warm violin to his chest? Her brother doesn’t know, and Ellie forgets about it.

When the final results of the auditions are announced, Ellie’s brother is only third seat cellist. It’s a bitter car ride home, but Ellie can’t help but notice that the cute violin player in the back row is now seated first. His name is Christian Rayne.

The first time Christian hears about her is the second week of his sophomore year in high school. Auditions are over, and he’s comfortably settled in his position as first chair violinist. Well, he would be if the seniors weren’t so pissed about a no-name sophomore snatching the position away from them in their final year.

He can’t really blame them, but it’s kind of annoying that they’ve managed to convince the rest of the orchestra that he’s clearly not worthy of the position. There’s nothing wrong with Christian’s intonation, thank you very much, and, no, he won’t be going anywhere anytime soon. He’s sat in the back long enough. It’s his turn to shine.

That’s how it starts, at least, but even after only five days, it’s tiring. Christian is complaining to a friend in the concert band, and she mentions how irritating it is that a freshman managed to get the second seat flute position. After all, there are plenty of seniors, and no one has even heard her play.

Christian asks for her name, and it’s given to him: Ellie Westley.

The first time that Ellie goes to a play produced by the school is the first time she really notices Christian Rayne.

The play is some comedy about a singer in a hotel, and Christian is the irritating bellhop with the awesome hat. Ellie is jealous of his hat, and that’s pretty much all she notices about him. She’s heard from her brother that, really, Christian is just a kid without enough experience to lead an entire orchestra, so she has him pegged as another one of those rich kids whose daddy can buy them anything they want.

She applauds him after the show anyways, but she doesn’t say congratulations to him. Ellie does nod to one or two of her brother’s friends, but they kind of shrug her off. She’s ready to plunge into the crowd, but pauses when she notices the familiar red hat of one Christian Rayne. He’s surrounded by admirers as it is, so she just shrugs her coat on and walks away. It’s not that big of a loss since she doesn’t even know him.

The first time Christian takes part in a school produced play is the first time he really notices Ellie Westley.

He’s on the stage, acting the obnoxious bellhop down to the fancy red hat on his head. It’s fun, standing before an audience like this, and he lets his eyes sweep through the darkened auditorium, relishing in the spotlight. There’s a single bright spot in the audience, though, and Christian squints a tiny bit to see what it is. There’s a girl wearing a bright yellow hoodie. He’s the tiniest bit envious of that hoodie, because it’s quite possible the coolest sweater.

Christian is still thinking about that hoodie when the show ends, but forgets it easily when roses are being pressed into his hands and people are swarming to congratulate him. A broad smile takes over his face, and he’s surrounded in the chaos of admiration when a flash of yellow catches his eye. It’s Ellie Westley, and her yellow hoodie is soon covered by the dull brown of her coat as she strides away. Well, he doesn’t even know her, so it doesn’t really matter.

They don’t see each other after that. They might bump into each other in the hallways, but they don’t stop for one another. Without the red hat, Christian is just another body moving through the cramped hallways, and without the yellow hoodie, Ellie is just another face in the swarm that plagues the small private school they both attend.

It might be more accurate to say that they just don’t care about the other anymore. Sure, Christian Rayne is kind of cute, but Ellie is a teenage girl; she finds all boys cute these days. And, yeah, Ellie Westley is a bit intriguing, but she’s only one in seven billion; there are always more interesting people around.

And just like that, the fall semester is over, and students flood out of the school to enjoy their Thanksgiving Break.

On Thanksgiving, Christian is forcing a fake grin on his face while his older brother chatters away happily to adoring parents. It’s his brother’s first time home since he started at Julliard, and he’s happily regaling them with tales of his success there. Christian just picks moodily at his cold turkey, wishing for his parents to turn to him and maybe ask how school’s been for him. Not his brother.

Christian’s been sitting there for two hours and his brother is still talking, this time about how being the concert master of a high school strings orchestra wasn’t really impressive at all. After all, he was the concert master of the state orchestra at Christian’s age, and it’s a pity that the youngest never does live up to the elder’s legend, right?

Christian just stares miserably at his plate and closes his eyes. There’s nothing to be thankful about when he can’t even love his older brother.

On Thanksgiving, Ellie is laughing at a table surrounded by friends and family. There are two separate tables, one for the adults, and one for the kids. Ellie is sitting close with her best friend, her childhood friend who’s only a year younger than her. She’s missed her best friend at high school, but they can do all the catching up in the world now. The conversation isn’t really conversation; it’s more like yelling over one another while fighting for the meat and laughing. Lots of laughing. Ellie can’t remember the last time she’s had this much fun.

Her dad comes over and plants a kiss on her cheek. He’s been bragging about her daughter, only a freshman and already second seat flute! Ellie squirms away and giggles when he tries to do the same with his older brother only to have the world’s best glare leveled at him. Before long, dinner is over, and the kids are crashing on the sofa watching a movie while passing around candy, chips, and popcorn.

Ellie looks around her contentedly and sighs with a smile. There’s everything to be thankful about when she’s surrounded by her beloved family like this.

School is good. Christian is doing well in all of his classes, especially his favorite, ancient history. It seems weird to some, but he loves learning about Ancient Rome, the Turkish Empire, shogun Japan, and more, especially reading the mythology that follows each culture. The only thing he likes more than that is probably acting. The school play gave him a taste of the spotlight; now Christian wants more. There are plans for a winter musical, so Christians going to try out for that too.

He makes his way to orchestra with a bounce in his step and a slight smile on his face; it drops as soon as he sees the sympathetic face of the director. Several people had come up and said that they didn’t feel he was good enough, auditions had been held over the short break, and, well…

Long story short, Christian isn’t concert master anymore.

He sinks into his seat numbly only to remember that it’s not really his seat anymore. That’s a problem, and Christian thinks it’s bad that he only wonders what his brother will say.

School is horrible. Ellie has never felt more alone in her life. The other students in her grade are standoffish, and they don’t talk to her. Her grades have been dropping steadily, and stress has Ellie crying into her pillow nearly every week. Maybe part of it is the way she carries herself, the “I-don’t-care” attitude, the sharp sarcasm she arms herself with. The only good thing about school is English because it’s her favorite. It seems strange to others, but she loves writing and watching the words come alive. There’s nothing she likes more than writing.

She’s threading through the hallways after another bad math test when she catches sight of Christian Rayne. Ellie hasn’t thought about him for a while, and it’s not like she ever cared about him, so his dark blue cardigan back shouldn’t affect her at all.

It doesn’t, and Ellie continues on her way to concert band. Later, she’ll hear from her brother of Christian Rayne’s demotion to second seat and wonder what happened.

They see each other often after that. They stand next to each other in the dimly lit cafeteria, waiting for food that is definitely not private school standard. The hallways are crowded, and their backpacks bump from time to time.

When Ellie walks back from the bathroom, she sees him sitting at a table of hooting sophomores and questions what he’s doing there. They don’t seem to be the friendliest or politest crowd, so she’s wary and stays away.

When Christian is coming back from the water fountain, he notices her crouched at the end of a little table filled with gloomy freshman and thinks that she doesn’t belong there. It’d be awkward, though, so he stays away.

And just like that, the winter musical is upon them.

The winter musical is pretty fantastic. The school pulls off a great rendition of High School Musical, and Ellie is impressed despite the cheesy story (not to mention, the leads were flat). There’s only really one person she pays attention to the entire time, and that’s Christian Rayne. He plays Ryan spectacularly and is wearing the most fantastic red bowler hat. She tells herself that’s why she notices him.

Nevertheless, the performance leaves her grinning and humming the ridiculously catchy tunes under her breath. She’s smiling widely, and Ellie knows that “We’re All In This Together” will be stuck in her head for ages. Not that she minds, of course.

When the time comes to congratulate the performers, she weaves through the crowd and loudly shouts her praises to any actors she comes across. Ellie doesn’t even know half of them, but it doesn’t matter because everyone is high on the exhilaration of opening night.

So when Ellie spots Christian Rayne standing somewhat awkwardly at the fringes of the crowd, she pushes her way toward him. For once, he’s not surrounded by the flock of admirers he gained from his bellhop act, and she plans to take advantage of that.

That’s when they exchange their first words.

“Hey-”

“-you did a great job tonight!”

Christian turns when he hears an unfamiliar voice. Ellie Westley is standing in front of him, bright-eyed, beaming, and wearing that yellow hoodie he was so jealous of. His initial rush of stardom has died off, and he was wandering around the edges of the crowd when Ellie Westley came to him. Now, he tips a nod in her direction and smiles cheerfully.

“Hi, thank you!” The smile across his face is real, and he’s genuinely glad to see her. He’s not sure why; he and Ellie Westley are far from friends, not even acquaintances. Still, he senses that she means what she’s saying, and he can appreciate that.

“I love your hat.”

Christian reaches a hand to self-consciously prod at the fabulous red bowler hat still sitting atop his hair. He hides a tiny smile behind his hand. “Thanks. I do too.”

And before he knows it, he’s pulling Ellie Westley into a hug.

Nothing happens for a long time after that. Ellie kind of obsesses of the hug for a week but drops it quickly. It was one hug; it probably didn’t mean anything, and Ellie feels foolish for dwelling on it so long. But she can, and suspects she will always, remember how, on the car ride home, all she could think about was Christian’s comfortable chest and his strong arms, the ones that pulled her against the red button down.

She wonders when Christian Rayne became just Christian to her.

Nothing happens for quite a bit after that. Christian tries not to think about the hug because he doesn’t know what he was thinking, and he’s so embarrassed just thinking about it. Christian doesn’t want to linger on it, so he attempts to forget. He’s really glad that Ellie didn’t push him away because, as guilty as he feels, she does have quite a body hidden under that yellow hoodie of hers.

He wonders when Ellie Westley became just Ellie to him.

Changes come fast after that.

Ellie decided to spend more time in the school library in order to study more and avoid her boisterous friends. Yes, she feels like she can call the guys she hangs out with friends now, and she’s grateful to them. It’s not what she’s used to, but Ellie feels comfortable with them, and that’s all that matters, really.

Christian has been avoiding his so-called friends for a while now. He’s taken to hiding in the library to escape their persistent swearing, most often aimed at him. Really, he should have known this was coming from the moment he accepted their offer to join them at their wrapper-covered table. He’s just so uncomfortable around them and regrets that he didn’t make more friends. All he has is admirers, and that doesn’t matter at all.

Ellie is just minding her own business in the library. It’s a chore, ignoring the chattering freshmen girls in the corner, but she manages. She’s reading some murder mystery and is cursing the unknown assailant when she notices Christian entering the library. He’s wearing red today, she notices idly, and with the striped button-down beneath that, he looks every inch a studious prep school kid.

As he draws nearer, Ellie finds herself examining his face. There are light (very light) smatterings of freckles near his nose. The nose in question is slightly upturned at the end, giving him a mischievous look, and Ellie notes that Christian would be a very good Puck is the school ever decided to do A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

He’s even closer now, and Ellie notes the way he has one hand tucked casually into the pockets of his salmon pink pants, how the other is gripping the backpack slung across one should, how the paleness of his long fingers contrasts with the black of the strap, how his mouth is opening-

-to not call out to her. She watches with disappointment burning low in her belly as Christian Rayne walks right past her to greet the gaggle of giggling girls. Not that she should be disappointed, she reminds herself sullenly. After all, they didn’t even know each other, and who would want to greet her?

There was a hug, a small voice tentatively suggests in her head, but Ellie swats it away. Christian Rayne probably hugged every girl who congratulated him that night, and he probably didn’t even remember her. With that, Ellie decides to give up on her ridiculous kind-of-crush on Christian Rayne and turns back to the crime scene.

‘Christian’ has become ‘Christian Rayne’ again, she notes with satisfaction.

Christian is just minding his own business on his way to the library. He’s fairly certain he aced the history exam and was praised by the orchestra conductor today, so he wants a good book to top off a great day. He ignores the catcalls aimed at him from his ‘friends’ and walks resolutely up the stairs to the library. Pushing the door open, Christian adjusts the weight of the backpack so it falls more evenly across his shoulders when he notices Ellie sitting in the library.

She’s not wearing her yellow hoodie today, he notices distractedly. Instead, she’s wearing a long sleeved purple shirt with a black jacket thrown over. She looks dark and alluring, and for the first time, Christian notices her eyes behind the square frames she wears. They’re ordinary as far as eyes go, just a plain coffee brown, but he can’t help but be a little startled at them. Just one look and he can tell that she’s more than the other girls currently staring at him from across the room.

He opens his mouth, intending to greet her, but changes his mind halfway. Ellie Westley doesn’t even seem to paying attention to him. With a thick book lying on her lap like that, he thinks it’d be much too out of place for him to greet her. So ignoring the sickening feeling of regret crawling up his spine, Christian turns to say hi to those wide-eyed freshmen instead. They’re all beautiful, but even while he’s chatting to them, he can’t get Ellie Westley out of his mind.

Christian doesn’t turn to look back, though, because “Ellie” has become “Ellie Westley” again.

Christian Rayne has a nice voice. This realization comes to Ellie in the middle of Biology. Her mind had turned from cell mitosis to, for some mysterious, unknown reason, Christian Rayne. Suddenly, his words from opening night of the winter musical start echoing in her brain.

This is silly, Ellie thinks, because he only said a few things. The standard thank yous and a random comment about his hat was all, so it shouldn’t matter at all. There were deep professions of love, not that she’d like a deep profession of love. Of course not.

Biology is simple too boring, she decides, and Christian Rayne is only an easy distraction from class. With a firm nod, Ellie turns back to the lecture about prophase and ignores the thought of Christian Rayne’s voice for the rest of class.

Ellie Westley does play the flute well. Christian arrives at this conclusion during one of the string’s orchestra and concert band’s joint practices. The concert band only sends their best players, so as second seat of the flute section, Ellie Westley comes. She plays with a kind of passion that the other players lack, and Christian can appreciate that.

The silvery tones of the flute are awfully distracting, and Christian winces when his bow screeches across another note. He’s clumsy today, and the senior first seat is shooting him nasty looks as his own bow flies across the violin. For some reason, he turns to see is Ellie Westley is watching, but she isn’t (of course).

Violin is too hard, he decides, and Ellie Westley is just another role model to look up to in that regard, just like… Bitter bile rises in the back of his throat when Christian thinks of his brother. He swallows it down and turns resolutely back to his music, settling the wooden instrument under his chin and ignores Ellie Westley for the rest of the piece.

A few days pass before Ellie next catches sight of Christian Rayne. That knowledge hits her on Thursday on her way back from Algebra II, and for some reason, a sudden pang hits her stomach. Her outward expression never changes as she continues talking with her best friend (who happens to be male), but inside, there’s a hollow feeling that won’t go away.

She doesn’t know, but Christian has been watching Ellie Westley for a few days now. He knows that she doesn’t know because, well, if she had noticed him staring at her like a creepy stalker, surely she would have said something, right?

At any rate, Christian hasn’t been stalking her, per say, but… observing. Ellie Westley is a lot like a siren, and he a poor sailor drawn in by her melodious voice.

Of course, the sirens were also hideous bird-women who ate men alive, so he would prefer if Ellie Westley wasn’t like that.

He’s seen her hanging around some freshman boy with blond hair that lay choppily across his forehead and pretty greenish-blue eyes, laughing with him, talking with him, ruffling his dishwater blond hair, and something that suspiciously sounded like flirting. Christian told himself he didn’t care and it was none of his business even as he reached up to finger his own plain, short, light brown hair. Christian looked away from the two walking through the hallways together even as he adjusted the black-rimmed glasses covering his ordinary amber eyes.

Christian really doesn’t care about Ellie Westley. At all. Once his ship sails past the craggy rocks the sirens nest on, he’ll forget all about Ellie Westley.

Christian Rayne’s done something to his hair today, Ellie thinks furiously. She can’t even pretend to be paying attention to what the conductor is saying, not when Christian Rayne has so unfairly mussed his hair up ever so slightly, giving him a windblown look.

She comes in too quickly for the opening of the 1812 Overture and curses Christian Rayne in her mind.

He’s also wearing a very distracting hoodie, the kind made of flimsy fabric that clings to the body loosely and makes Christian Rayne look like some kind of model-

The entire orchestra grinds to a halt as the conductor starts scolding the flute section for their inattentiveness, but most of that is Ellie’s fault. No, she corrects herself. Not her fault, Christian Rayne’s fault. Because, honestly, how is it legal to look that gorgeous in the middle of a dingy auditorium?

She holds her breath as Christian Rayne turns to look in her direction with eyes that make her stomach do flip-flops. For half a second, Ellie thinks that he’s looking at her when she hears the first flutist giggling beside her. Ellie’s stomach stops in the middle of a backflip and plummets to the ground so fast she swears she’s going to throw up.

Stupid, stupid, stupid, Ellie scolds herself. Why did she ever think that Christian Rayne would be looking at her? He’s got an entire crowd of admirers, and she’s just another blurred face in the crowd. Besides, the first flutist is beautiful; petite and slim with a graceful figure, long dark hair swept into an elegant ponytail and cat-like eyes surrounded in eyeliner that makes them pop-

Ellie spends the rest of rehearsal focusing resolutely on her music, messing up, trying to ignore the gazes between Christian Rayne and the first flutists, and desperately blinking back hot tears.

Christian has been keeping his promise to ignore Ellie Westley, and he’s doing spectacularly at it. He’s ignored her every time they stand remotely close to each other and doesn’t even glance towards her usual table. He feels good, lighter than he’s felt in days.

When orchestra rolls around, Christian has been humming happily to himself for the entire day. The debate club is gone to states today, and that means that the first violin is absent from orchestra practice. That means that the first seat is temporarily vacant. That means that the second seat violin needs to fill that hole, and that means that Christian is first violin for the day.

It’s a good day.

Christian runs a hand through his hair absently as he studies a particularly tricky section of the 1812 Overture. It sounds pretty good so far, and Christian can’t help but cast a quick look at the flute section. They’ve been messing up all day, and it’s strange because they’re usually impeccable and flawless with Ellie Westley’s strong ringing notes hovering in the air.

He finds her staring at him with something like awe in her eyes.

Christian looks away immediately and focuses on the girl next to her. The first flutist is lovely to look at, and she giggles at his attention. Christian smiles back because they’re somewhat-friends, and that’s the polite thing to do. He notices that Ellie suddenly looks sick from the corner of his eye but shrugs it off.

For the rest of orchestra, he keeps trading glances with the first flutists and thinks that this is a great plan to ignore Ellie Westley.

Ellie wants to throw up.

It’s not a surprise because her stomach has been rolling uncomfortably for ages now, and she can’t eat her food without suppressing a gag reflex. Her brother was sick earlier this month, so he must have passed whatever he had to her.

All of this has absolutely nothing to do with the fact that Christian Rayne is walking right next to her and flirting with the pretty first flutist.

Of course not.

Ellie doesn’t so much hate the situation as much as she hates herself. Why, for heaven’s sake, is she even attracted to Christian Rayne? He’s honestly not the good-looking, just slightly above average. He doesn’t have a unique voice, Ellie doesn’t know anything about his personality, and they’ve never spoken more than ten words to each other.

Besides, her mother said she had seen Christian Rayne hug the other girls that came up to congratulate him that night.

So you see, Ellie tells herself, you’re nothing special. At all. Christian Rayne hugs all the other girls and probably talks with them more than her. Most likely, he doesn’t even remember her face.

It’s not a pretty face either. Ellie would never admit this to anyone, but she is slightly insecure about her appearance. Only slightly, though, because Ellie knows enough to know that she’s average. No matter how much her dad and mom say that she’s beautiful, Ellie knows she’s really not.

In books, there’ll be that one insecure nerd that everyone picks on, but really, she’s beautiful, and all she needs is a makeover. She’ll get that makeover, and the handsome guy she’s been pining over will notice her, and they’ll go out. Happily ever after.

Ellie differs from this book scenario in quite a few ways. First of all, there’s no bullying at their small private school, so her life’s not miserable in that aspect. It’s really not miserable at all. Secondly, Ellie really isn’t beautiful beneath her yellow hoodie. Seriously. The books will lie and say that the poor unpopular kid is actually a beauty queen in disguise, but real life doesn’t work that way.

And the handsome guy she’s pining over will never notice her.

Christian has had a good week. He’s sure that whatever miniscule feelings he had for Ellie Westley are gone now, and they’ll never bother him again.

Life is sluggish and slow. Ellie finds herself trudging through school day by day as the snow melts into fresh green grass, and the only traces of it left behind are sodden sneakers or mud clinging to the bottom of fashionable boots from students marching across the damp campus fields. Christian breathes in the scent of spring every minute of the day while the gray sky of winter darkens and blooms into a clear blue.

And yet, as the season fades and turns, there is no relief in green.

Ellie discovers that her affections never really linger in one place. They descend upon one thing and stay for a while, before, like a capricious butterfly, fluttering off to the next colorful flower in search of sweeter nectar.

Such is the case with Christian Rayne.

It seems shallow, but Ellie comes to this conclusion on the way to a tutoring session. In the school van, she thinks back on Christian Rayne and her absolutely dismal crush (yes, she can say it now) on him. It was a hopeless endeavor from the start, and Ellie finds that she doesn’t mind that thought anymore.

She had seen Christian Rayne earlier that day. Ellie had been loitering around some benches and chatting with one of her friends about a game when she had noticed Christian Rayne strutting down the hallways.

She uses the word strutting because there’s no other way to describe how he moves.

Ellie had gotten up with half the mind to greet him when that pretty flutist stood up instead.

And they had hugged.

Ellie had watched as Christian Rayne’s right arm slowly rose to wrap itself around her waist.

Right then and there, Ellie’s affection raises its head before taking to the sky. Now, those tired wings just need a new place to land.

Here’s the thing about crushes: they tend to appear quickly and go away just as fast, but in the time that they exist, well…

Ellie Westley pretty much knew from the start that she would never really have a chance with Christian Rayne, but it was nice to have someone to admire. She won’t admit it, but even now she’ll catch herself wondering, what if?

Only sometimes, though.

For Christian Rayne, it’s much the same. He kind of noticed Ellie Westley, and sure, he wanted to get to know her more, but there really was never a moment to do that. He can’t regret the time he spent wondering about her, because, what if?

Just occasionally, though.

In the end, the story wasn’t really a story. There was no drama, no secrets whispered in bathroom stalls, and not much communication either. Ellie Westley and Christian Rayne will forever be separated by a last name, a few letters. Life isn't a teen romance novel, after all. They’re just children living, walking, wondering… about what could’ve been.