January 4, 2014
I huffed heavily as I stared at the – oh so fascinating – designs in the wood floor of my bedroom. I was lying on my queen bed that had green and black stripes scattered across it. On my lower back was one square of sunlight that had managed to peek through my window. The sun was hot on my back, but it felt good in contrast to the chilling AC that steadily froze my bones. By my side were three textbooks – Government History, Sociology, and Chemistry – two notebooks that I had crammed with notes, and a binder that was overflowing with loose papers from other classes that I had taken.
Homework.
I had a paper due in Government History tomorrow but the only thing I had managed to write we two words:
Jaye Stone.
Normally, I would be freaking out over the fact that I had yet to complete an assignment that was due in twenty-four hours but today? I didn’t really care. I tapped my fingers against my wrist as I tried to find the energy to sit back up and get back to studying. Pep talk: You can do this. You can get up, fly through that essay and have plenty of time to study for the Chemistry exam at the end of the week. All you’ve gotta do is-
A loud bang caused my motivational speech to end with a loud scream internally while externally; I merely twitched and looked up to see what the source of the noise was. It was my door. The culprit – Caleb – stared at said door as though it were some feral tiger that had just jumped out of the shadows. He looked at me and pointed at the door, “Why does it do that when you open it, still?”
“I don’t know,” I shrugged, returning to staring back at the floor, “You know that it’s been doing that for a while now.”
“I do know that, but I thought it would have been fixed by now,” Caleb said
There are many broken things in this house that need to be fixed, I thought glumly. “Anyways, why’re you here? Other than to lecture me about my door.”
“Dr. Hastings is here,” Caleb said simply. I could tell from his tone that it wasn’t the real reason he had decided to visit me after school, but I would wait till after the appointment.
My stomach gave a queasy flop and I licked my lips, my mouth suddenly dry. I nodded, “Got it. I’ll be down in a few.”
I got up slowly, my joints popping before I hobbled over to my mirror after Caleb left – with a bang quite literally – and studied my reflection. I had green eyes that were too large for my face; skin was so pale you could see the blue spider webbing of veins underneath; frighteningly sharp cheekbones that rested upon hollow cheeks; a skeletal body and shoulder length copper hair that was pulled back into a pony tail. I looked sick. This was the definition of the truth. Not long before my mother had died, I had gotten sick with some mysterious disease that was slowly killing me. Dad had hired a family friend who also happened to me a doctor – Julia Hastings – to treat me. Once a month I got an injection of some sort of drug that was supposed to help me. While I took two pills – which was a lower dose of the same medicine – every day.
I grinded my teeth and looked away from my reflection in disgust. As long as I didn’t look in the mirror, sometimes I could forget I was what I was. But other times, the fact of my condition was like a punch in the gut that was entirely unwelcome and painful. I shoved the loose strands of my hair behind my ears before heading out of my room and downstairs.
Dr. Hastings was waiting for me in the dining room wearing a clean black suit with her brown hair tightly pulled back into a bun. On the mahogany table, that was never used, was her suitcase that was propped open to reveal several syringes, half a dozen bottles of medicine with no labels, wads of cotton, and ethanol alcohol. I glanced around to see if Caleb was nearby, which he wasn’t. He didn’t like to see this. More than likely he was in the kitchen raiding my fridge.
“Jaye,” Dr. Hastings called in greeting. I gave her a small smile and entered the dining room, “How are you?”
“Good,” I replied, sitting down in a plush chair that had a wooden back full of intricate designs that had been hand carved. I rolled up the sleeve of my sweater to reveal my left arm as I asked, “You?”
“I’m doing well, thank you. How have you been feeling since my last visit? Any headaches or fevers?” Dr. Hastings grabbed a syringe and a bottle that was full of a pale green liquid, a needle held between her fore – and – middle finger.
“Nope,” I shook my head as Dr. Hastings grabbed my wrist and turned my arm so that the fleshy inside of my elbow was exposed. Blue veins trace the inside of my arm, in the crease where my arm bent was a small, quarter-sized black spot where she inserted the needle.
“Any hallucinations?” she asked as she connected the syringe and needle, drawing liquid from the bottle.
“None,” I winced when she pierced my arm. The medicine slowly spilled from the needle into my vein, burning subtly.
Dr. Hastings smiled though her focus remained on my arm, “Are you sure? You can tell me you know.”
“I know. But I am sure. No men, no women covered in rainbow fire,” I said with a weak smile.
“Good,” Dr. Hastings pulled the needle from my arm, “Done. That should do it. I have a new prescription for you, so I’ll leave that here. One in the morning with breakfast and one at night with dinner, ‘kay?”
I simply nodded.
Dr. Hastings stood to pack up and she gave me a friendly smile, “You’re looking good, you have some color in your cheeks and I noticed that you gained a bit of weight.”
“Yeah, five pounds,” I patted my stomach, my fingers shaking, “Will this dose hit my system hard?”
The last time I had gotten a shot had reacted violently with my system. I nearly landed in the hospital. I had thrown up more than I could drink or eat, had a fever that had spiked to one hundred fifteen, and I had lost nearly half of the little weight that I had. It had been a terrifying experience, and it was one that I really didn’t want to go through again.
“Not as hard as the last round,” – thank God – “There’s been some minor changes to this dose, but the basic formula is still the same, unlike the other one which caused you to get so sick. You will be nauseas; just part of the deal, but if it gets any worse or if you get a fever, call me. I have that drug that will cancel out the one I just gave you but seeing as you just got a dose of it less than two weeks ago, I don’t want to use it again unless I absolutely have to.”
I followed Dr. Hastings as she left the room. She handed me my new prescription of pills before I she escorted herself out of the house. I was suddenly bone tired and a slight sweat broke out along the back of my neck from the effort of standing. My stomach growling, I turned to go to the kitchen to get some food.
“Everything good?” Caleb intercepted me on the way there.
“Yep,” I shrugged.
“Good,” Caleb crunched on a pretzel, “So, I wanted to ask you a question.”
I stopped and instead reached for the bag of pretzels he was holding, grabbing one for myself, “And what is it?”
“I know that I was supposed to go to prom with you but…I was wondering if you would be angry if I went with someone else?” Caleb asked gently.
“No,” I felt a flare of anger at the pity in his eyes that was quickly squashed by the sharp pain in my chest, “I wouldn’t mind, who is it you’re thinking of taking?”
Caleb winced, “I already asked her. Her name is Natalie Fields.”
“Oh,” I smiled through closed lips, pretending it didn’t hurt as much as it did and also trying to keep the pretzel I had just eaten, down. It was like a stubborn spider trying to crawl back up, “Do you want a sandwich?”
“Sure,” Caleb flashed a relieved, charming smile, “I’m glad you’re okay with this.”
“Yeah, no problem,” I smiled again and continued to walk towards the kitchen. I wasn’t okay with it but I had to admit I had to have seen this coming. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t see me as anything more than the very tiny best friend. I wouldn’t let him see how his giddy smile caused my heart to slowly split down the middle. Because that smile would never be for me, not like that.
As I grabbed the bread and peanut butter, I swallowed the pain and the rising tears in my throat. Now wasn’t the time to be a whimpering girl. It was time to be a good friend.
A/N: Hi guys, thank you for reading! Please vote, share, comment :) if you see any errors, let me know. Critiques are welcome (as long as they aren't rude).
Ths picture on the right is drawn and colored by me and is what Jaye Stone looks like in my head. I used the song "Can't Help Falling in Love" by Ingrid Michaelson because it represents Caleb and Jaye's one sided love story perfectly in my opinion.