Oreo Ice Cream

Chapter 15| Pale lavender

I couldn't suppress the stupid idea anymore, scratch out stupid— it was ridiculous. 

Putting my back on the chair and kicking my shoes off, I ran upstairs. As I was about to open my phone, it beeped, which meant two things— either I got a new notification, or it was dead. And damn the beep, my phone was dead. Sighing, I put my phone on charge before unwrapping the candy Lee gave me before we bid adieu. It was sweet of him; thinking of him as someone more than a friend would be one of the funniest thoughts ever. Apart from that, it would be awkward.

After having a warm shower, I put on a white tee. It was a baggy one, that of my Dad's. He used to reserve this for special Sundays when we used to stay indoors and play chess together. I still remembered the smell of Mum 'specially-baked' cookies and vanilla pastries. Those were the memories of pink evenings and green noons—now caged in the photo frames that hang proudly on the pale lavender walls of my room. Mum was not at home, which gave me the complete freedom of not wearing any shorts. I didn't know why, but I have always been closer and franker with Dad than with Mum. I rubbed my feet against the bed sheet and tilted my head backward. The wild rush of strange emotions tied knots in my stomach and churned the words down my throat.

The phone's vibration made me almost jump in excitement. I could finally use it! I crawled to the corner of the bed where my phone was getting charged and turned it on. The quiet air became thin with the irritating sound of notifications and missed calls. I didn't have time to check any of them because I have something more important to do now. 

I opened Tris's Mum's Instagram. The profile picture showed a smiling Tris in his green tee with his Mum. The description had nothing to know about Jane because it had a smiling emoji. She has always been the loveliest person ever— added to that was her perfect art of crafting and writing. I have been to their house only once when I was eight—a random visit or maybe for something vital that I didn't remember. I scrolled down the posts: a total of 379 pictures, not photos, but prose poems in French.

Translating has always been my thing—be it poetry or any story, or a full-length novel. Thanks to Mum's insistence on having me learn French, it now helped a lot. I stopped at one picture of a vignette paper. "Après ça" it read. Unplugging my phone and lying down again, I downloaded the image to read it.

After a full twenty minutes of sighing and throwing hands back and forth, I could feel my stomach shrieking: Stuff me! 

But before that, I knew I had to stuff this piece of paper inside my pencil bag—safe and sound.

~*~

I woke up an hour early before my alarm clock and quickly sat on the bed. I need to write a better ending for our story before I get into school (Tris's story was a total freak); I must grab some good sparky pens; the meeting should be at the library as usual; I should carry an extra pastry for Lee—he gave me another candy before I walked home back. God! I have many things to do, and I'm still in bed!

I quickly tugged the bedsheet corners neatly and got off the bed. I have an extra hour, so I could make the whole stuff ready. Tying my hair in a loose ponytail, I took the paper I kept inside my English textbook and grabbed a green pen. The room was dark, and the walls looked hazy. My head spun a little until I got up again to open the windows. After a good thirty-five minutes, I felt my muscles strain. My neck felt like getting off my head, and my fingers were red in pain. Pushing the chair back, I got up. I have changed the whole plot. It wasn't anything unbelievable because I did that a few times. Cracking my knuckles, I put the paper inside my book and kept it in my bag. I smiled, thinking how much happy Tris would be. Or maybe, he would probably end up fighting with me about the sudden change again.