Memories

Memories: Chapter 20

The rest of the day was well-spent at school (or as good at day as school can be, I suppose), except for the odd and unusual encounter I had, with—well, the guy who stole my parking spot, whom I also kneed the same day Jason first came down to the bookstore. Yes, I remember things I shouldn’t, things I don’t necessarily need, and things I wish I couldn’t; it’s kind of annoying.

            So this was how the day started:

            Jason walked me to most of my classes, even if he didn’t have them with me, and I totally felt like I was in one of those old 1930s books, swinging on some bench in the back yard under an apple tree, with a long yellow dress, my hair reaching only my shoulders and curled nicely—

            Okay, so maybe I’m getting a little ahead of myself with the fantasy. The point is, he was a total gentleman, as expected, and never failed to disappoint me. He said sweet things to make me laugh, and when he wasn’t holding my books, or even my bag (my reluctance, of course, since I knew fully well how to carry my own baggage), he was was holding my hand. It was nice and it was just that, the feeling was so nice and calming and easy.

            We did get some looks and stares. I think this was the first time people had ever actually recognized me as a living, human being, now that I was being seen with Jason. People whispered to each other, as if we couldn’t see them if they hid behind their lockers. It grew a little—uncomfortable. Which was why, back before Jason and I were acquainted, I didn’t mind not being noticed.

            Well, okay, so that’s not true. I didn’t like being completely and totally invisible to someone unless we made physical contact, mostly because I would watch my feet while walking so I’d bump into people. However, I knew with certainty that I did not like being the center of attention; whether it was for a good or bad reason. And the thought of nasty rumors spreading gave me goose bumps, because I know if anyone made any assumptions at all, I would just go insane.

            I’m dead serious; there’s a reason why gingers have bad tempers. It’s something in the roots of our hair that controls a certain part of our brain, you know; like how you have different compartments in your brain that store different types of knowledge and memory? Well, it’s kind of like that in that our patience control and ability to not lash out at people hangs by a thin thread. If someone were to even stare at that thread for too long and question it in a way that would upset it, it’s like triggering something inside of our mind that begins to growl. And then our hair sets on fire, and we’re angry.

            Ta da.

            Not really, because that’s a bunch of BS, but it is true that most redheads have bad tempers.

            At lunch, we sat alone together, and it was like everyone in the room was just staring at us. What is this, the zoo? I thought, annoyed, trying to eat my salad and ignore them. Oh yes, and that’s another thing: Jason is forcing me to eat lunch today. He paid for it too, of course, and I couldn’t do anything to protest. I think Jason knew what I was thinking about the people watching, because he looked at me and began to laugh.

            “Something funny?” I asked him, a little challenging. When I spoke, I sounded like a mad woman, but I think he enjoyed that more.

            “Yes, you. But ignore them,” He added the last part quietly, his eyes molding into an understanding shade of grey, his hand coming over top of mine. I looked down at our fingers, and my lips twitched into a small smile of relief. I sighed. “I’m trying but it’s like we’re monkeys or polar bears or something,” I muttered, narrowing my eyes and glaring down at my food.