Chapter 10
Questioning Sexuality and Giving Makeovers
Jem
From the permanence of today's chain events, I couldn't deny what a fucking irrevocable idiot I was. How could I let her crack open my walls? I can't believe how close Ellis was at discovering my secret, finding my bruises. That can never happen. I won't allowed it. It was bad enough I was haunted by her overbright cherry-scented presence, I didn't need it everywhere in my own personal business. The fact that her cherry-tinged fingers had brushed against my bruises, her touch lighter than chiffon, lighter than silk, lighter than the punch that had created an unsettling feeling n the pit of my gut.
I sighed airily, feigning interest in my phone so I wouldn't be tempted to scrutinise her expression as I called Heath. Heath Burnwood was an aggravating bastard. But he was a loyal aggravating bastard.
I called him for a ride to his party because I did not have a vehicle of my own. I have a licensewerebut its don't have a car because A) my father sold our singular transportation to pay off our mortgage and B) we're in an economic recession. Or at least we're trying to compensate for the results that came out of the economic recession.
Fifteen minutes later, Heath arrived in his crappy, war-torn, barely alive and rarely functioning Chevrolet babe magnet of which he had named Roxy. He honked the whole street awake, probably scaring everybody out of their wits, when he found Ellis and I sitting by the street side, looking glazed at the pavement with bloodshot eyes. Fuck, he was already half-way drunk. He flung the shotgun seat open and I leapt onto my feet, accepting his invitation into his car.
"How the fuck did Caleb let you drive?" I frowned.
Heath shrugged nonchalantly and noticed the petite girl by my side. "S'up, Ellis! You're comin' to the party?"
God only knows how he hasn't veered into a telephone pole.
Ellis nodded, digesting the sight of his messed up blond hair and wrinkled shirt with a crinkled nose. "Yes, I am."
"Well, c'mon in!"
The car's seats were shredded leather and peeling so Ellis swallowed painfully and muttered a soft prayer of hoping to not catch some infectious disease before clambering gracefully into the backseat. The stench of whisky was so empowering my mouth to salivate at the thought of alcohol.
"Should he be driving?" wondered Ellis, who sounded concern, not in a general sense but panicked as in an Oh-My-God-I-Might-Die-Due-To-Heath's-Intoxicated-Driving. Admittedly, driving in an engineering nightmare nicknamed Roxy, also known as DTM (Death Trap Machine) to Caleb and me, was pretty high on my worse ways to die list since it was so horrifically mundane and also, this pretty face does not deserve to go at the age of seventeen.
"Heath, why don't we exchange? You don't look so good."
"Bitch, you're talking shit. I look fucking amazing!"
Goddamn it, I loved Heath whenever he was drunk.
"Hmm. While it's debatable, mind getting out of the car?"
Heath cracked a grin, chuckling randomly at my question. "Yeah, sure!"
"Great, Heath."
Did I mention Heath was fifty times more agreeable than he was while drunk? I swear, it was like alcohol created an ideal version of a sober Heath. We exchanged places and as I strapped Heath safely into his seat, I said: "By the way, we're stopping by Porcey's place."
"Porcey?" asked a befuddled Heath.
"See, I told you that nickname makes no sense to anybody. This is why you should probably stop calling me that."
"Nice try, Porcey."
"What the hell is a Porcey?!"
"Me!" Ellis screamed at Heath."Anyway, why are we going to my house?" Ellis poked her head out from the crevice between our seats.
"Because there's no way you're wearing that to a party."
Ellis crossed her arms. "What's wrong with what I'm wearing?" she demanded, looking down to her striped cardigan over a buttoned-up blouse and a pencil skirt, topped with a strict basic black headband.
"You look my grandmother and she dresses like a Sunday school teacher. She's also dead."
"Wow, thanks."
"Basically, first rule: no headbands." I snatched it out of her head, avoiding her outcry, and tossed it onto the dashboard where it'd be out of her reach. Then I stepped on the gas.
-
Being in Ellis's room caused an itch to appear at the back of my neck. Her cherry perfume was simply everywhere, empowering my senses so much I couldn't think about anything except for that smell. God, that smell. It made me envision her in a different light, a light where she was sultry and sexy...not an uptight reindeer sweater-wearing prude who'd never been to a high school party.
It was not like she can't help it that she never attended a party. She'd never knew about them...until after they happened. This was the clear division between the popular and the non-popular, like two opposite sides of the red sea with some invisible Moses separating us. Our parties were often extremely exclusive, with the massive numbers only touching about seventy. There would be the seniors and the exclusive juniors, like Caleb, Heath, Tabitha and I, and some of the really cool sophomores. No freshmen obviously. I'm not going to be a dud, who pretend I was entirely foreign on the topic of popularity nor would I be the type who didn't acknowledge my burgeoning popularity- after all, how couldn't I? But basically, it was like high school hosted two different worlds: the haves and have-nots. I was a Have. Ellis was a Have Not.
And her room was a clear indication of it, resembling every rich Metropolitan Upper-East side girl room should look like. The books, files and homework were organised and colour-coded towards Ellis Chan's borderline compulsive standards. Even her closet, a stack full of clothes went from dark to light, according to the colour of their allocated positions. The silk quilts were tucked in, geometrically lined, the Egyptian cotton pillows fluffed and linen sheets unwrinkled (I'm pretty sure they were ironed, which was pretty weird because who the hell iron bed sheets?).
A fresh arrangement of tulips was situated on her bedside table, along with her handy sparkly-cased iPhone and a spiralled notebook with a pen in the binder. Her study table overlooked the stunning view of Lake Jefferson and was virtually clear of any clutter of any kind, which was kind of a disappointment because I was hoping the freakishly clean Asian would be kind of a slob.
Staring at her clothes, I fingered a dark velvet blazer, it's material dense under my fingers. Seriously, she owned, like, fifty blazers. You know who wore blazers? My mother...when she was at work. God, this girl really needed a sense of living. "Do you have any clothes that don't make you look like my dead grandma?"
"Are you saying I'm old-fashion?" she griped, pink mouth setting assertively, eyes hardening like cement, pulse thundering fiercely and passionately. "I'm not old-fashion. My style is merely classic, traditional."
"You don't even own one fucking pair of jeans! This is-"
I never got the chance to finish.
Her closed door swung open, swaying a wide arc to enable Ellis's Dad to walk in, peering at me through his bifocals like he was trying to gun me down with magical lasers he kept hidden up his sleeves. His eyes were the same shade of Ellis's, dark brown like the abyss she would consume me in. Of course, the first thing he noticed who was in the room was me. "Ellis?" His voice was constricted and tight, agitated with anger. "Why is there a boy in your room?"
Ellis jumped to her feet, the panic clear on her face but she masked it quickly with one of her innocuous smiles and batted her eyelashes, exuding an angelic innocence like she was God's gift to parents everywhere. "Daddy, Jem and I were just working on a school project. No biggie."
Ellis's Dad narrowed his eyes into slits and tilted his head briskly at me, evidently displeased. "Does he knows I have a shotgun, a shovel and a massive backyard?"
"Daddy!" Ellis shrilled, her pitch murder to my ears. "You know I would never!"
Well, that destroyed my ego.
Contemplating and saving the remnants of my ego and pride, I decided to swoop in and back up Ellis: "No need to worry, Mr Chan. I'm not interested in her that way."
Ellis's Dad inhaled deeply through his laboured lungs and crossed his arms. "Very well," he grudgingly relented. "But just this once. Any funny business and you're gone, mister, understood?"
I nodded effectively, making sure his request was delivered.
"Good. Now leave the door open," he ordered Ellis, who stumbled a quick 'Yes, Daddy' before he shuffled off to his usual business.
There was a clear, lucid silence dangling frigid in the air before I broke it, shoving my hands into my pockets.
"Wow."
Ellis laughed and smoothed through her dark hair with her hands instead of her headband, musing her long straight locks a little. It made it slightly messier than it's composed state but I preferred how it looked that way. She seemed less...compulsive. Less guarded. Less obsessive. More relax. More natural. It suited her like Cinderella's foot to her slipper. "That's Asian Parenting for you."
I chuckled in spite of myself. "Seriously? My Dad's like: Do whatever you want. I don't care."
"Are you kidding me?" asked an exasperated Ellis with widened eyes at the freedom in the Leighton household, like it was such a foreign term. "My mum used to be the type who grounds me for an A minus."
"What the fuck? That's crazy!" But somehow, even though her parents were disciplinarians and a hell lot more unreasonably strict than mine, they seemed to care a lot more than my shitbags for parents.
Ellis considered the situation. "Actually, compared to some cases, my parents are quite mild."
I whistled lowly. "Damn." She smiled in agreement and there was a pregnant pause until I rubbed my hands together. "So back to your closet. Do you have anything that makes you look like you were born in this century?"
Ellis scowled at me and kicked my shin. I yelped in pain as it shot up my leg. "Ouch!"
Smugly, she smirked and flipped her hair like those girls in the mirror. But she could never pull it off as a Mean Girl because she looked far too smart to be a dumb blonde. She sat down on the white wooden chest box, it's knobs glinting a sparkling silver as the streams of sunlight penetrated through the glass windows. "I have a pair of Levis in my other drawer."
"Of course," I grumbled, still disgruntled. "It's just like you to have jeans from a relatively corporate mogul brand with overpriced items."
"Take your anti-globalization butt out of my house then."
Heartily, I threw my head back and laughed. A memory of our last eight grade class flashed in my head. "I remember that debate. I kicked your ass in that."
"No, you didn't!" She huffed and folded a shirt because it wasn't done properly, her hands fidgeting with its button as she pressed it down until it was smooth.
Nonchalantly, I placed my legs on her glass desk and crossed them while she gasped, horrified. "Jem! That's all the way from Italy!"
"What? Oh no."
She folded her arms and pointedly glowered at me. "You're a twat."
I pouted and traced circles on the white shell of her laptop, "But I'm a lovely twat."
She clamped her lip shut, refusing to take my bait. She turned sharply on her heels and prepared to pull out a pair of jeans with one of her pointlessly abundant silk blouses, completely ignoring me. Huh. Maybe I didn't get under her skin as much as I thought she did. Or maybe because she spent so much time with me that she was starting to get used to it.
"I'll go get change," she informed me before marching off to the massive marble bathroom and shutting the door.
While I spun round and round in the uncomfortably cold office-like leather chair to occupy my time, I scanned her items. She had a pug dog-covered notebook on her desk beside her table. Unintentionally curious, I flipped it open and was brought to a cover page that was filled with spiral doodles and read: ELLIS CHAN'S DIARY.
Ooh. Interesting. I knew I shouldn't peek into Ellis's head, as scandalously sordid as it might sound, but the temptation was too hard to resist.
I flicked the page over to the first entry:
August 31st, 2014
It's almost the start of the brand new year, which I am both anticipating nervously and excitedly for. I can't decipher or even entangle my emotions away from each other. For one, junior year is finally here. I'm finally only a year away from graduating and getting out of this ludicrously small town. And being back with Astrid and Calista would be fun but for some reason, I've been pondering the whole point of it all- my existence, my age. All I ever do is the same thing over and over again. Sleep. Go to school. Fret over my studies. Care about a stupid little letter on the top right edge of my papers. It seemed so redundant...like what am I doing this for?
Who am I doing this for?
She underlined the last sentence with a purple sharpie pen, circled it and marked a star beside the question mark, signifying it's great importance. It was so strange- disconcerting even- to conclude the assumption that Ellis Chan, the master of all routines, was getting tired of routines.
It was selfish of me to listen to her thoughts when I wouldn't even disclose mine so I shut the book, adjusted it to it's former position and watched the scenery unfold outside. Children was playing outside, riding their bikes to the playground twenty knots from here, couples walking along the lake while holding hands and giving each other the occasional smooch on the kiss. Observing the mediocrity of life clogged up my throat with something other than nostalgia but want for something or somebody to hold on to, even if I was gripping on a ledge about to fall into my untimely doomed future and I thought as a girl kissed her boyfriend on the cheek, with such clarity that she loved him in her eyes, everything was total bullshit. Their love was bullshit. Human emotions were bullshit. Because in the end, other people will always put themselves first and it would never be you.
Bored out of my mind, I lit up a cigarette and pushed it in between my teeth.
When she finally came out all glammed up, I felt my lungs' air being sucked clean out- and this was not due to the fact that a cigarette was dangling from my lips. Her hair was down in soft waves and she was in a normal pair of jeans, a turquoise blouse with one of those fancy gold buttons, a pair of three-inch heels, a red lip and lined eyes. I would be lying if I said I wasn't flabbergasted. She was beautiful. I mean, it's not like she wasn't beautiful before but holy fuck and trust me when I say this, she looked so much better in jeans than pencil skirts. If I didn't know who she was and if our precedented hatred didn't exist, she'd be the one-night-stand I considered staying the morning for.
She frowned at the cigarette, fragrantly hanging above her Mac laptop. "Can you not smoke in here?"
"No," I retorted. Naturally, for the sake of keeping the routine, I acted like an asshole. I stood up and surveyed her. "See? You can look like a normal teenager."
She sighed and crossed her arms self-consciously around the blouse, which emphasised her chest making up for the lack of it. "Why are we doing this? I feel like a bloody simplistic idiotic adolescent."
"Because I want you to stop dressing like my dead grandmother. And anyway, consider this an overdue makeover. I don't really give makeovers unless I'm feeling flamboyantly homosexual so you should feel pretty damn special."
She cocked an eyebrow and pursed her lips. "Are you willingly admitting that you're gay?"
"I'm always gay. Duh. I'm obviously happy." I inhaled the smoke deeply as the cherry of the tip began to fizzle out.
"You know what I mean."
I steered her out of the room, "Yeah, my sexuality is rather ambiguous. I'm still deciding but whatever."
"I'm pretty sure sleeping with half of the school takes care of that," she said drily as we walked down the stairs, my hands skimming south of the cold gilded staircase.
"Well, Heath slept with the other half and you haven't done anything at all."
"True- but I'm happy about it. How many people you slept with doesn't determine your merits, Jem."
"Truer words never are spoken from a jealous person."
She stopped walking to sniff disdainfully at me. "I'm not jealous."
"It's okay," I patted her arm and overtook her lead, "Everybody's jealous of me."
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