Back Again

Chapter Thirty-Two

Chapter Thirty-Two

      “Are you sure it’s okay to be here?” Chase asked apprehensively.

      “Is the sky blue?” I retorted.

      “Right now, it’s actually gray,” he said. He was right. It was raining out, so the sky wasn’t it’s normal indigo, but rather a dull, depressed, overcast shade.

      “Shut up,” I said, inserting my key into the door, and turning the doorknob. The door opened, and we hurried inside the house to elude the heavy flow of water. Chase had offered to share his jacket with me, me being the senseless person I am in forgetting to check the forecast, but I declined.

      I sat down on the floor before the door, placing my backpack beside me, and began to take off my soaking wet shoes. They were Converse, and I had had them for a few years. They weren’t anything special, plain black with white tips I had covered in writing. That’s one of the things I love about Converse- you can express yourself through something as simple as a shoe.

      On this particular pair, I had drawn hearts bordering the sidewall of the shoe in red Sharpie, though you could hardly see them because of all the dirt they had acquired over the years. On the toe of the left foot I had written the letters “JU”, and on the right foot “LES”. Surrounding the letters were swirls and squiggles. The shoes had history, identity, and individuality. What more could you ask for?

      Right now, they were sopping wet, as were my feet and unmatched socks (one was neon yellow and the other neon green). I rolled my socks off my feet, and wiggled my toes, feeling as though my feet were actually able to breathe. I looked over to Chase, who was also in the process of taking off his shoes. His shoes-

      “Chase,” I started, looking down at his feet, “why are you wearing Nikes?”

      “Because I like Nikes…” he said, momentarily pausing.

      “But Converse are better,” I said.

      “No,” he said simply, untying a shoelace. His shoes were red, black, and white. They had the signature Nike swoosh on them, and came just above his ankle. They weren’t ugly shoes, they just weren’t Converse.

      “Yes,” I said, looking back to my beloved pair of black shoes.

      “Look Jules, you’re wrong on this one, let’s not argue about something as stupid as shoes,” he said calmly.

      “Did you just call shoes stupid?” I questioned, slightly offended by his remark.

      “No! Not like that- I meant arguing! I like shoes, just not as the topic of a debate I want to have with you!” he said, recovering from his comment.

      “Fine,” I said, dropping it. I grabbed my backpack, and climbed up the stairs, leaving Chase on the landing.

      “Hey Jules,” he said.

      “Yeah?” I called back.

      “Where ya going?” he asked.

      “To my room to change, I’ll be right out,” I said, ambling my way over to my room. I opened the door, and smiled at the sight that met my eyes: my perfectly messy room. Chase would probably have a heart attack if he saw this.

      I stepped over a pair of crumpled up jeans and a textbook, making it safely over to my dresser, and dropping my backpack somewhere in the midst of all the chaos in the process. The top of my dresser was covered in hair accessories, guitar picks, glasses with the lenses poked out, and various forms of jewelry. I opened a drawer, and pulled out a pair of black sweats and a white T-shirt. I got changed, and departed from the room, going back to the front area where I had left Chase.