When Trouble Meets Trouble

[ C h a p t e r - T h i r t e e n ]

I thought for a moment. “Francis, well, at least he’s the only one I knew.”

“Don’t you hate that guy? And doesn’t he hate you?” Jer asked me.

“Pretty much,” I told him.

My brother made a ‘duh’ noise. “Then isn’t it obvious who it is?”

“Jesus?” I asked him with a smirk on my lips. My brother and I laughed together before I groaned. “But seriously, Jonah doesn’t like me. He’d probably kiss Francis before he’d kiss me.”

My brother let out a howling laugh before he fell off of the couch, distracting me from my game. He caused me to lose and I tossed the controller at his head. It bounced off like a bouncy ball and he didn’t even acknowledge it. “I can imagine that right now.”

“You don’t know what Francis looks like though,” I replied.

“I imagine him as Tom Felton," he told me and I scoffed.

“That’s not right at all," I replied and he rolled his eyes while getting up.

“Shouldn’t you be getting ready? It takes a long time to transform from an ape to a princess right? Well, too bad, we don’t have that much time," my brother snorted.

“You’re mean,” I snapped.

“Don’t worry; I’ll make it up to you. I’ll help you solve your kissing mystery.” The thought of him meddling in my love life scared me so I just walked upstairs, taking his advice. It would take a while to get ready.

~~~

As I’m telling you this, I realize how cliché I sound. I don’t dance well. I hate dresses. And I’ve had one boyfriend before in my life and it ended terribly. But they’re all totally true. The second one is the one that I’m focusing on right now. Let me tell you the story of why I hate dresses okay.

I was in the 6th grade and it was picture day; everything tragic happens on picture day. My mom dressed me in a bright yellow dress and I actually liked it. I had black ballet shoes on, too. I had my hair in pig tails and I was ready to take on the camera.

There was one problem, though. We had recess before picture time and I, being the hyperactive child that I was, decided that girls can play sports too, even if they’re wearing dresses without shorts on under it. I was playing football, when I fell and ripped the dress down the back. Long story short, I flashed my underwear to all of the six and seventh grade that day.

Anyway, I looked at the dress my mother picked out for me for the first time today and I hate it. It’s red and sparkly and I hate it. It splits into two and wraps around the neck and I hate it. It comes down to about two inches above the knee and I hate it.

It’s a horrible dress and I still wonder why my mother would even look at the thing, never mind purchase it. I wonder why my father didn’t make her return the stupid thing, either.

“Are you ready yet, Van?” my father asked from outside of my door. I’d styled my hair already and even went as far as to put on mascara and eyeliner, not for my sake; but for the sake of procrastination. I didn’t want to see this dress and I now regret even looking at the thing.

“Yeah, I’m putting on the dress,” I lied. My mother forgot to buy stockings, too, so now I’m going to have to wear the dress without them. I groaned. What’s the point of even wearing a dress for a Christmas party? Isn’t Christmas in the winter? And isn’t it cold in the winter? Can my mother and father apply logic before inviting guests to spend the day at our humble abode wearing things that they’ll freeze in? 

When I finally got into the dress, I looked into the mirror and rolled my eyes. My hair was straightened and is parted to the side and my makeup is kept to a minimum. My mother realized that I can’t walk in heels so she bought me black flats, thankfully. I was even more nervous about the fact that Jonah is going to be here in approximately four minutes. I’m already late. My parents expected me downstairs about ten minutes ago so I could collect gifts and place them under the tree but I told them I couldn’t because I was wearing a dress and I didn’t want to bend over.

I had Jonah’s gift in a little gift bag, wrapped in blue wrapping paper and neatly perfected. I even looked up a DIY to wrap the darned thing. I am nervous, to put it simply. I even called Sierra and Sabrina, who were both sick. They forgot to bring jackets last night about had to wait twenty minutes in the blistering cold while Jonah searched for his keys in his jacket.

Mere already told me that she was on her way. I reminded her that when she gets here to come upstairs to my room. I looked out my window nervously and I noticed my brother making a snow man. “What are you doing?” I shouted out of my window. He looked up at me.

“All our relatives want to do is hug and kiss me! I don’t want that!” he shouted back before going back to work on his snowman. I rolled my eyes before shutting my window. I heard someone knock on my door and I rushed over.

“Hello? Is this Savannah’s room?” I heard Mere on the opposite side. I opened the door to see the hyper blonde wearing a green dress. It wasn’t sparkly but it was just as lively. Her dress had the white fluff at the hem so it’ll look like a santa hat. She also had a large white bow protruding from her bouncy ponytail. I quickly yanked her inside of my room.

“Hi," I told her as I closed my door.  

“You look pretty, girl," she complimented me.  

“You do too, but the reason you’re in here is because I have a problem.”

“What is it?” she asked me and I told her about the club. The whole time, she sat there with her jaw slack.

When I finished the story, she started squealing loudly. “He kissed you!”

“Stop jumping to conclusions; I don’t even know if it was him. Keep your voice down, he’s here,” I snapped.

“Oh shut up,” she rolled her eyes. She was grinning widely. We fell into a comfortable silence aside from her creepy grinning.

“What?” I asked.

“Your brother’s here!” she grinned girlishly. I rolled my eyes. “I didn’t see him when I came inside though.”

“That’s because he’s outside building a snowman,” I told her.

“How old is he?” she asked and I rolled my eyes.

“18 and a half,” I told her and she smirked and wriggled her eyebrows.

~~~

After panicking upstairs and watching Mere redo her makeup, my mother’s voice was opposite to my door. “Meredith? Savannah? Open the door.”

I walked to the door and opened it with a smile on my face; it was obviously fake. My mom squealed. “You girls look gorgeous, now come downstairs!”

“We’ll be downstairs in a minute,” I told her, walking around to find my shoes. She confirmed and walked downstairs. “You go first, Mere.”

“Whatever," she rolled her eyes as she walked down the steps. I sighed, pressing my hands to my face. Man up. That’s hard to do when you’re a woman.

Taking a deep breath, I walked towards my closed door but a knocking sound cut me off. I held my breath. Oh no.