Infatuation

Chapter 8

   Light streams through the window. I can tell that its later in the day. Maybe some time around noon. Dallas isn't in here anymore. I step down from the bed and my feet land on something. I look down. My bag is on the floor. I pick it up.

   Its been a couple of days since I've had a shower. I need to wash my hair, badly. I open my bag and pull out a new pair of clothes, and underwear. It's a plain red shirt and a pair of dark jeans with a jean jacket with wool lining my  Grandma got for me before she died of cancer.

   I open the door to my room. Dally is laying against it and falls to the floor, almost hitting his head on the ground.

   "What was that for?" He rubs his elbow.

   "Why were you sitting there?" I ask.

    "I didn't want to wake you up." He states. I laugh a little.

   "You could have just stayed in the living room." I tell him.

   "Not after your nightmare." He reminds me. I stop smiling. I didn't exactly want to remember it.

   "Can I get in the shower?" I ask.

   "Don't you need a towel?" Dally asks me.

   "I'll get one." I say. Dally stands up and walks to a different door in the hallway. He opens it and grabs a towel. He hands it to me. "Thank you." I mutter. I walk past him and into the bathroom.

   I take a deep breath as I lock the bathroom door. I turn to face the mirror. The swelling has gone down quite a bit. The discoloration is still present and it look striking against my gray eyes.

   My hair is a mess. Its starting to come out of the braid I put it in two days ago. I pull the hair tie out and slowly unmake the braid. When I'm done in falls across my shoulders in waves. I makes me look more normal.

   I turn the water on and wait for it to get warm before I get in the shower. I pull my clothes off and let them litter the floor.

   My eyes land on my Mothers bracelet. She always took it off when she showered, or did the dishes. I wonder if that was so she didn't ruin it? I take the bracelet off and lay it on the counter. I ignore the pain it brings me.

   I step into the shower. The hot water bombards me, but I make no effort to make it colder.

   "You deserve it." My Father's voice rings out. I step farther into the water. It burns my skin as it falls but I let it. I let the fire consume me until I can't feel it anymore.

  
    I sit on the bed for awhile. I just look at the bracelet and remember my Mom.

   She loved to sing while cleaning. Any kind of song. It could have been 100 years old and she would have still loved it. We had this little radio that we left in the kitchen. She would turn the music up all the way and sing and dance. She was a good singer. Sometimes she would sing at the bar. She got some good tips.

   She was the most beautiful woman I ever knew. I was lucky enough to get her features and not my Dads. Her hair was shorter than mine, her eyes brighter, and her smile was perfect. I loved to see her smile.

   When I was little she would read to me. Any kind of book. I loved listening to her voice. I would beg her to read out loud. I wish I had taken some of her books with me.

   Suddenly, a loud crash wakes me from my thoughts. The noise makes me jump to my feet. The sound of a gun goes off in my head. I ignore it.

    "Damn it!" Someone yells. I sprint to the living room. In the middle of the room stands Two-Bit. At his feet is a broken plate with what looks to be chocolate cake spilled all over the floor.

   "What happened?" I ask.

   "I dropped the plate," He mutters. I let out a shaky laugh, "I would get he broom, but I'll just make a bigger mess. Can you get it for me?" He asks.

   "Where is it?" I inquire.

   "Right next to the table." I walk into the kitchen and grab the broom. When I enter the living room, Two-Bit is sweeping chocolate cake off of his feet with his hands. I lay the broom against a wall and start to pick up the shards of glass.

   "How did you drop the cake?" I ask him.

   "I looked at the TV and there was this really ugly person. It scared me," He says with a laugh.

   "An ugly person?" I question.

   "Yes! They looked like a bat had a baby with a human!" I let out a laugh. It feels good to laugh.

   "Was it dracula?" I raise an eyebrow.

   "Maybe," I put all of the glass on the dustpan and carry it to the trash. Two-Bit starts to sweep the floor.

   The front door hits the wall. It makes my skin crawl. Why can't they just open the door carefully?

   Ponyboy and Johnny walk in. Both of them have backpacks on. Dally comes in behind them. He has a cigarette in his mouth. In his hands is a jar of pickles. I am somewhat mortified. People usually classify this as a weird snack.

   Dally hands me the jar. "I know its your favorite." He grins. I roll my eyes at him.

   "Thank you, Dal." I mumble.

   "You're welcome."

   "Dal, what time did I wake up?" I ask.

   "You were out for a long time. You probably woke up around 12:30." He tells me. My eyes grow wide. 12:30?

   "When will Soda-" I stop talking. Dally looks at me weirdly. I feel my face get hot. I look at the ground.

   "When will  Sodapop what?" Two-Bit asks. I ignore him. I am not going to ask that question again, "when will he get home?" Two-Bit continues. I nod my head.

   "Do you like him?" Two-Bit asks.

   "No." I spit out. I think I could like him. He is very kind. Probably one of the kindest people I've met. He is really pretty, too. That certainly helps. Dally raises his eyebrows as if he is asking a question.

   "Do you?" He asks. I glare at him.
  
   "No." I answer. Two-Bit suppresses laugh.

   "Good." Dally says. I roll my eyes at him.

   "I have to go brush my hair." I mutter. I walk back down the hallway and into my room. I close the door behind me and lean back against it. I close my eyes.

   Why am I so stupid? Why can't I keep my mouth shut? Then a thought dawns upon me. How can I be focused on a boy when my Mom is dead? The idea sends me down to the floor. I could never forget my Mom, but the betrayal I feel from myself is heavy. I bring my hand to my mouth and start to bite my nails. I start to count my breaths.

   1. 2. 3. 4.
  
   1. 2. 3. 4.

   1. 2. 3. 4.