Letters in My Locker

Letter 6: Lovers? Just Friends.

"I don't think he's caught up with the lingo, yet, Jess."

"So, are you doing anything after school?" She asked oh, so casually. She played with the buttons of her blazer and cocked her head to the side; like she always did. She looked so breathtakingly cute. 

Taking the bus.

"Um, no not really."

Just shopping for baby clothes.

"Why?"

Please, Jess, give me an excuse to get out of shopping.

She answered, avoiding my eyes, like I was hers, "I need to buy something for Rick's party this weekend. Want to go shopping with me?" 

Holy crap, more shopping.

"Sure, okay, where?"

Gosh, I hope Mum doesn't see me.

Jess fiddled with with the golden buttons of her blazer, the sun's glare hitting me in the eye. Crap, man, watch out. "The usual place - Towers."

She'll see me.

"Great! Great. Cool. Can I hitch a ride with you?"

"Carey told me you had a car. I was hoping to hitch with you," she smiled.

What a dazzling smile. She has teeth! Okay, that didn't sound stupid or anything. I'm not saying that girls my age don't have teeth. Jess's teeth are just exceptionally nice. They are white, little perfect squares lined up like an army, protecting the fortress that is her mouth. 

"My mum has taken away car privileges," I tell her dramatically, closing my eyes and throwing a hand over them.

"Why? Just because she's pregnant?"

"How'd you know that?"

"Derek . . . told me. Look, it's fine. Rick can take us."

That's one of the really annoying things about Jessica. Yes, I liked her, she smelled like pine trees and I thought she peed wine and shitted gold rocks. Except she always talked about Rick. No, seriously. I think at some point they dated each other but I wouldn't be too sure seeing as how I can never keep track with my grade's couples unless I witnessed it first hand.

She would always look for Rick. If something was wrong it was, 'Rick would know what to do!' If someone was suicidal, 'Rick, pull a Jim Carrey and sing "Jumper"!' If someone happened to go into labour, 'Rick, be the midwife!' 

Relying on Rick. Wow, it kind of sounds like an American sitcom. I don't care, it's annoying and I wish she'd stop. That's probably why I said one of the stupidest suggestions ever. For people in Year Twelve, anyway.

"Why don't we take the bus? It's really fun."

Fun? Really, Max, really?

"The bus? Yeah, sure. I usually take 651 when I go home. I'm not too sure about the one that goes to Towers. I guess we could just ask the Year Eleveners. Or maybe Rick. Yeah," she sighed dreamily like a Twilight fangirl, "Rick would know."

 It turned out Rick didn't know, much to Jessica's dismay. We ended up having to ask one of the Year Eleveners (well, okay, Jess did). We boarded the bus to Towers and let me tell you, a bus ride has never been so exciting.

You hear me complaining, okay, whining, about the irridescent charm of the bus. Today, though? Jessica was a movie in slow-motion. It was mesmerising, when she flicked her bouncy, dark hair over her slender shoulder or when it fell across her face. Or when she laughed, her pink mouth was always open - dark and mysterious but open and friendly. I didn't even know what I was saying to make her laugh. All I knew was that she was laughing with me, not at me.