Otters

Chapter 4

I sprung up as I felt something wrap around my shoulders.

"Whoa there, tiger," I heard a soft voice say.

I furrowed my eyebrows and squinted, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. It was dark out and I realized that I was still on Jo's front porch. Cindy's journal was in my lap and a newly placed flannel blanket draped over my shoulders. "What time is it?" I asked, my voice raspy from the small moment of sleep.

Jo sat down next to me on the step and glanced down at her wristwatch. "Eleven thirty," she answered, folding her hands together and setting them in her lap. "Our moms are still talking." She tapped her foot twice then relaxed against the stair behind us. "Who's journal is that anyway?" she asked curiously as she played with her blonde braid.

I glance down at my lap and noticed Cindy's journal was still open and instantly shut it. "Nobody's," I answered coldly. I ran my fingers through my hair and sighed.

Jo appeared to want to ask more questions, but bit the side of her lower lip instead. She adjusted her glasses and stared straight ahead. "So how long have you lived here?" she asked, breaking the thick silence.

I shrugged my shoulders. "Since I can remember."

Jo nodded. "And that's your house?" she asked, gesturing towards the little blue house across the street.

I pursed my lips and nodded. "Yup," I said, popping the 'p.'

I glimpsed over at her. There were thin strands of hair sprawling out of her braid and she had changed into some baggy sweatpants and an old T-shirt that said South High Devils Volleyball. Her eyelids opened less and less each time she blinked. She chewed on her bottom lip and held her arms around herself and rubbed her upper arms to keep herself warm.

"Do you want this?" I asked, peeling the blanket off of me.

Jo studied me, as if she wasn't sure if I'd bite or not. Eventually, she took the blanket and wrapped it around her scrawny shoulders. "Thanks," she whispered, shivering as her breath created little clouds.

I smiled slightly in response.

I started thinking of all the ways things could go bad between us if I ever got the guts to ask her out. Maybe Jo wouldn't really be all that interesting. Maybe she'd think I wasn't all that interesting. Maybe she'll turn out to be some kind of jerk. Maybe she'll think she's too smart for me. She's out of my league ... I think. Maybe Jo will learn about my past and won't understand.

It's probably not worth it.

Or maybe it is.

I flipped my head around. "Are they still talking in there?" I asked, shocked that my mom was actually able to stay up this late - she usually can't even make it passed nine thirty.

"Yeah, they've been talking about us for a while now." Jo shifted around.

"Us?" I asked, raising my eyebrow.

She nodded. "Yep. I now know that your favorite food is grilled cheese with tomato soup and a pickle on the side," she said with a smile.

"Were you listening?" I felt betrayed by my mother. She knows I hate when she tells people about me.

Jo gazed down at her feet. "About half an hour ago, I sat on the last step and listened until I noticed you were still out here." Her lips quivered as if she were afraid of speaking. "You looked cold, so I laid a blanket around you." She tugged at the corners of the flannel material around her.

I ran my fingers through my hair and turned my body to face her and lean back against the railing. I didn't know what to do as an uncomfortable silence fell. Jo kept readjusting her glasses and pulling the blanket tighter around her arms. I had nothing to do except stare at her. I noticed the way her long blonde hair curled at the ends and how her cheeks were full and soft. Jo's lips were full and the perfect shade of red. Her fingernails were bitten and the nail polish was chipped. I realized how she shook her leg whenever she got nervous.