Complicated

Chapter 11

Awake yet asleep is the state I'm in. I really don't want to go to school today. I slowly walk to the bathroom with my blanket around me as I get a hold of the things I need: the set of clothes I'm going to wear, my trusty cellphone, and a bath towel. Wearing my bunny slippers, I slowly walk to the bathroom door, remembering the ideas I thought of last night. I pull out my phone from the side pocket of my pajama top. I text these words:

1. Start with Jenny

2. Think of a plan to stop Jenny from loving Tom.

3. Ask Tom out to pizza.

I sigh. I realize that the only thing I'm thinking of is Tom, Tom, Tom. It has become a habit of mine, to plan the things I want to do that has some kind of relation to him. Though I will never tell him that, it'll reveal too, too much. 

I strip away my clothes from the body, and the cold atmosphere stings my bare back. I jump into the bath tub. I add the soap, and a bit of bath salts. Not the ones that intoxicate you and make you deranged, I put the type of bath salts that are good for your body. Even though I sound like I am on drugs, I'm not. 

The bath salts take in effect as I feel my muscles relax. I close my eyes, and ponder about the things that have the ability to make me happy. Chocolate. Alone times by myself. These baths. Painting. Then I start to think deeper. Daydreaming. It helps me think everything is alright.

Then his face pops up in my head. Tom. Just like daydreaming, he makes me feel that I'm secure, and that he's always there for me. When I was in 3rd grade, and I started to realize that I, indeed, am attracted to him, his personality, everything about him, it felt so wrong. He's practically a brother to me, and I wouldn't want to ruin that bond between us. It's just as he said. He loves me for being a sister he never had. 

Then I become aware of how my edge of being his best friend is not exactly an advantage, but a disadvantage. A thought strikes my mind, hard. 'He'll never like me as I like him' . I frown at myself for being so pessimistic. Though I should be.

I rise up form the water and shudder as I feel the air freeze my slender body. I wrap the white towel around me, its warmth enough to stop me from shuddering. I dry my hair with another towel, and  go back to my room. These November mornings are the coldest, though I slightly like it. I love the sight of my breathe, as white as the snow that covers the grass and ground of all the front lawns in our neighborhood.

I then dress. I never actually cared about what I wear, but if I want to stand out from the girls that admire Tom, I always have to go go through the trouble of finding and wearing clothes that define me. 

After 5 minutes of choosing and fitting, I resort to jeans and a cotton blouse. It's not much, but it's comfortable enough to run around in, you know, to chase Tom when he's in a lot of trouble. I perceive Tom as a troublesome little boy, for he was once one. I remember when he used to splatter mud onto my Sunday's best dress, and not minding if I get dirty. I did it all for him. I just wanted to be a good friend. I overdid it so much that now, he thinks of me as a sister. I have to face the consequences of my actions.

I hop into my doll shoes, and run down stairs for breakfast. I see my little sister, Astrid, with a smile on her face I(probably from last night), and my mother  cooking breakfast while my father sips his coffee from his mug and reading the morning paper. As usual, he's nagging about how the government's utter stupidity. I smile at my father. I inherited his attitude. And with the attitude, I inherited his fighting spirit as well. But I don't fight because of the government. I fight for Tom, I fight for his feelings.

"Mornin'" I greet as I took a seat beside Astrid, who's obviously texting Patrick. I take a humongous bit of the stack of pancakes served before me, not minding whether it's mine or it's anyone's. I notice how chocolate milk is in my mug, and I frown. I reach for the coffee, but before I do so, my mother slaps my hand. "You know how coffee's not good for 16 year olds like you, hun." she says with a concerned and motherly look. "But moooooom, it's coffee. It's addicting. And plus, it's decaf. No need to worry about anything. 'Kay?" I tell her, smiling for reassurance. "Fine." she answers back.

I jump off my seat and kiss mom and dad despite the grease on my mouth from the bacon I ate. "Bye!" I tell them, and all of them answer back in a harmonious tone. I grab my bag, and my thick coat, sling it on me, and exit our house. I was ready for another day of my mission. A mission to kill the feelings of Tom's admirers.

I walk again, to school. I always plan to, so that I'll catch up with Tom on the way. And by my calculations, I did. He was wearing a dark blue hoodie. He looks as simple as that, yet he has this unexplainable charm. He smiled at me, and that smile, as I said, summons thunder and lightning. I sigh. It looks like I'm back to page one.

As we mindlessly talk about senseless things, like the things we talked about back at The Slicery. The thing about the pants and penguins. I begin to think that whenever I think I have a crush on him, it just keeps getting more and more difficult to keep up with these conversations. 

And then I did it again. I couldn't respond to whatever he was saying since I was thinking about him and his complete and utter beauty as a person. "AVE! TALK TO ME, AVE!" he screams, definitely not minding if anyone sees or hears him. "Hm? Oh, yeah, what was you question again?" I ask for clarification. "It's like you're in a new dimension. It's like there's sound proof glass between us every time I talk with you. I want to know why, Ave. I want to know so we can fix this problem. I don't want this problem to ruin our friendship. Ave, I'm ticked off. TICKED OFF."  he says, emphasizing those two last words. I become speechless. He quickly runs off to the next turn. I bury my face in my hands. 'If only he knew that he, himself, is the thing that's disturbing me, he'd understand. But then now is not the right moment to tell him of what I truly feel about him.' I think as I ran to the direction he went, reaching where he is, sliding and gliding back onto his world, a world that shall rid of me once I honestly tell him what I feel.

I find him sitting on a curb, frowning at a puddle. I stare at him as the wind blow, as if it is pulling me to him. I sit next to him, then he stares at me. "I thought best friends tell each other everything. You promised to be honest with each other." he tells me in that cute little kid tone. "I-I.... Tom..... It's just that.... the previous days were a buzz in my head.......It's just that........." I tell him, desperately trying to lie my way out of this situation, even though I'm not able to lie to a guy like Tom. He "Ave. Just. Ave. Stop trying to explain. It's just that I've been sick of these awkward moments between us, and we didn't have these before. I want the old us back. The one that doesn't stop between senseless conversations, the one that doesn't try too hard to put up a good conversation. I want the old you. In fact, I NEED the old you. Bad." he confesses. I try to shut my mouth, but it feels like gravity is pulling my jaw down to the ground. "Sorry. Tom. I'm sorry. I've been thinking of a whole lot. It's just the headaches. They keep coming and coming, and I think they're not gonna stop until they've invaded my mind." I tell him. I bite the inside of my cheek to push back into my throat the words I want to say, the ones that speak of the truth. "And we wouldn't want that, don't we, Ave?" he tells me with a smile. I smile back a response as he stands up and offers me his hand to help me stand up. Then we continue to walk down the road, to school. And seconds after, we run, afraid that we'll be late. he takes my hand as if we run into the sunset like the couples in fairy tales do. But the only difference is that I'm only his best friend, hoping that we'll be much more in the future.