The next couple of days, my head haven't stopped swirling. Thoughts, sounds, actions, they're all trapped, they're swarming, and they're not stopping the ride anytime soon. Is this what happens when you realize you're starting to like someone? I doubt that I've never suffered through anything similar to this.
Hmm, let's see if I've contracted a cliched romance illness. Butterflies in my stomach whenever I think I see Jules, but turns out to be a girl with similar hair? Check, kind of. Constantly thinking about her? Check. Wishing that she's still bothering the hell out of me? Check. And, going on Facebook every two minutes to see if she's sent me an IM? Double, fucking, check.
Well, I got the parasite alright. And there's no way to cure it, besides the obvious.
I have to mention, I thought I was straight. I mean, I never kissed anyone, nor dated, but I've had crushes before. And all those crushes were guys. Granted, they were guys that I couldn't work up the courage to talk to, so I knew them mainly by their looks. Still, I assumed I was going to grow up, live with a guy, probably end up getting pregnant because we were too lazy to get birth control, and get into so many fights we start questioning how we got together. You know, the typical straight life.
With Jules opening the possibility that I can be into girls, well, I just wouldn't get accidentally knocked up.
I've been so distracted by the mental tornado that I couldn't focus on my violin. "Callie, put the goddamn violin down if you're going to keep making that screeching sound!" Nancy shouts from her room after I've moved the bow across the strings incorrectly for the fourth time.
Knowing that I'm not going to be able to do much more than the screeches, I put the violin in its case in defeat. There's no way in hell I can do anything else tonight if this keeps up. What time is it?
I take out my phone and look at the time. It's only a quarter to five. I throw the device on my bed. I have to wait until it's dark out before I can go to bed; I feel too energized if I have to go to bed during daylight, which resulted in me being the most troublesome child in the three daycares that I went to. And got kicked out of.
I didn't think people can get kicked out of places that young.
My door opens, and Mom pops her head in. "Hon, what's with the violin?" she asks. "You know that would bother anyone around you."
"I know," I reply. I gesture to my head. "I'm just distracted."
She raises an eyebrow. "About what?" Mom pauses briefly. "Or should I say, who?" she adds with caution.
"Who," I clarify. "And speaking of 'whos', can I go to their house? There's something I need to do."
I can already tell I'm stirring up some trouble when Mom starts giving me the disapproval stare. "After staying over at a friend's house for two hours without telling me, you think I'm going to let you go this time?" she asks.
Giving her an 'I'm-so-cute' smile, I respond, "Maybe?"
The stare amps up. "You can't see them tomorrow at school?"
"I could, but we rarely see each other."
Mom does the whole posture only mothers would pull off, with the arms crossed and a hip jutted out. I guess teenage girls can do it, too, but that's not the point. "And how important is this 'visit'?" she questions. "Is it even at all important?"
I nod. "It's very important," I say firmly.
She turns her head to the side, thinking it over. Suddenly, she straightens up. "Alright missy, if you really need to go see this friend tonight--" Yes! I think. "--then you need to earn it. Do all the chores I assign you, and I mean all of them, and I'll drive you to their house, for an hour. Understood?"
Better than nothing, I say to myself. "Yeah."
__________
I should have waited until the next night Mom leaves the house to do an occasional night shift to visit Jules. Hands pruney from soapwater and reeking of bleach isn't all that great. At least Mom finally agreed to drive me to Jules' house, after admitting that she ran out of chores for me to do.
"Callie!" she calls out as I close the door. I put my head through the window. "One hour."
"I know."
"Good." Mom gestures to her phone. "I will be calling you five minutes before I arrive to pick you up. You better answer it, or I'm definitely grounding you." Before I can protest, she moves the car a little until I get my head back out. She then drives away, and I'm left with an hour's worth of freedom.
I knock on the door, and step to the side just as Randy opens the door, wiping his hands on a dishtowel. "Hey, Callie," he says, confused. "I didn't think you'd be here."
"That makes two of us," I mutter before asking, "Can I see Jules?"
He turns his head towards the stairs. "She's in her room, but you can try." He lets me in, and I go up to the next floor.
When I get by Jules' door, I don't hear anything. I take a deep breath and open the door. Jules is on her bed, back to me, playing with something. I peer over and see that she's been attacked by Marionette. The screen turns static, and the menu for Five Nights at Freddy's 2 appears. Jules clicks on the 'Custom Night' button, and chooses the highest levels for all the animatronics listed.
"Trying to beat the multiple 20 mode?" I ask.
"Mmm-hmm," Jules mumbles. She turns slightly, but stops and returns to her original position. Not knowing what to do next, I awkwardly stand over her, quietly watching the game on her iPhone. She makes a mistake, and this time one of the Bonnies gets her. "Fuck."
She shuts off the game before turning to me. "Why are you here?" she asks. Jules is still using her no-nonsense attitude, which now kind of scares me.
"Can I?" I say, pointing at the bed. She nods, and I sit next to her. I open my mouth again, but she interrupts me.
"If you came all the way to apologize, I don't want to hear it."
I scrunch up my eyebrows. "Why?"
She shrugs. "I find them useless. Either we move on, or we don't."
". . . Alright, I won't apologize then." Since that's pretty much what I came here for, I'm drawing a blank. What can I say? Jules shifts herself, her shirt going up. Thank God for that. "Can I see your scar then?"
Jules looks at me weird, but she wordlessly sits up on her bed and starts unbuttoning from the bottom. I think she's trying to avoid flashing her bra; if so, she's not doing a good job. Where I'm at, I now know she owns a black bra with tiny grey bear cubs.
She opens the shirt wide enough for me to see the red and angry line a little below her right breast. The scar's jagged, and lowers at the end. I make a gesture to touch it without thinking, but Jules twists away.
Leaving the top buttons in their place, Jules drops her shirt and picks up her phone again, attempting to play the game again. I reach a hand out and lower the device. "That's not paying attention to me," I say.
"When did we switch roles?" Jules asks. She puts it back down, though. "So, I'm assuming you talked to Randy?" I nod. "That includes how I got the scar?"
"No," I say. "A spirit whispered in my ear that you have a scar. I don't know the story."
A corner of her mouth quirks up. "Smartass." Her phone makes a screeching sound, which makes me jolt in shock. "Crap. I forgot." Jules taps her screen a couple of times, and the home screen appears.
I look at her as she's focusing on her phone. I'm not going to say any kind of "she's more beautiful than the moon" bullshit, but I will say I find her attractive to a point. What that point is, I don't know.
I snake an arm around her front, scooting her closer to me. Jules doesn't object, but I think it has more about her concentration on what she's doing more than just wanting to be held. When she's close enough, I hug her around her waist. I wait until she drops her phone.
I breathe in the bonfire scent. Laying my cheek on her head, I say quietly, "Tell me about yourself."
Jules slowly grasps my arm that's in front of her. She takes the time to make herself comfortable, which basically means bumping into me a crapload of times. "What do you want to know?" she asks when she's done.
I look at the time on my phone. "Everything you can in the next forty-five minutes," I answer.
"Are you challenging me?"
I shake my head. "That's when Mom's picking me up," I explain.
"So, that's a yes."
"Jules."
"Ugh. Fine."