Jenga

Chapter Eight- Conversation With the Rain

"Since we all gathered up here somehow, we're going book shopping."

Arthur points at the four of us in great determination.

"How dare you come with Charlie . . . my Charlie . . .," Julia mumbles under her breath holding up her clenched fist.

I take a step back, contemplating the situation. "You. . . like him?" I ask and point at Charlie, "Not him?" I point at Cyan. "You've got some weird taste."

"I'm not yours," Charlie says bluntly.

"Not yet!" Julia starts to laugh that nuisance of a laugh again.

Then, out of nowhere, this nauseous feeling comes in my stomach. I don't know what it is, but I'd sure like to get rid of it. 

"You can fall for me instead. I don't think you'll end up with someone like Charles here," Cyan says proudly.

"My name isn't Charles," Charlie snaps.

"That pride of yours is exactly what makes me not like you," Julia says to Cyan in a monotone voice.

Cyan, seemingly taking offense, replies rudely, "Oh, please. I can't like you either. I'd rather be with a somber girl like Noa than a pretty drama queen who thinks she can just go after someone how she does, like you."

"Just stop it, you guys are acting like children. I'm going with Charlie, OK? You two will walk in a pair," I say, sliding my arm between the two. Then I go over to Charlie and we all begin walking.

"How do you feel about that?" Charlie asks me.

I go, "About what?"

"About Cyan being yours."

"Oh, that. Well, I don't have any special feelings for him."

"You didn't answer my question."

"I don't know how I feel about it. I don't feel anything."

"I . . . see."

"Why did you as--"

"Noa, watch out!" Charlie whips his arm around my waist and pulls me to him, as the clueless car driver continues to drive away.

"Do I have to look out for you now? Why are you making me work so much?" he asks.

"I'm not making you do anything. You didn't have to do that, you know. I don't need you," I say sharply and turn my head away. But I immediately regret saying that.

Charlie loosens his grip on me and puts his hands in his pockets. I take a small glance at him, afraid to see his expression, but there is none. I mean, his bangs are covering his eyes, so his expression is kind of undefinable.

"Someone's crabby today. I'm sorry Noa spoke to you like that, sweetheart," Julia mocks.

"No, I'm not crabby! It's just . . ." I trail off my sentence, because I really don't know what to say. His grip on me, on my waist, somehow changed my mood.

"Shut up, for crying out loud! Nobody wants to hear you flirt with Charlie," Cyan says, clearly annoyed.

"Noa isn't the only one in a crabby mood, I see," Arthur says.

As the three-way argument continues, I look at Charlie again. I want to apologize for saying that so out of line, but I can go only as far as opening my mouth.

In other words, for some reason, I can't say it.

It's not like I meant it, but it's awkward to say that I do need him. Right?

Why does it affect him, anyway? He's never said we were friends, and has a smart mouth when talking to me sometimes. Why does something like this affect him now?

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"Wow, there are so many books!" Julia exclaims like a child in a candy store.

"No duh, this is Barnes&Noble," Cyan retorts.

Julia opens her mouth to shout at him, but sees something that redirects her.

She runs to the Children's Books section and picks up a novel with a light blue cover and white words that read: "THE PUPPETEER".

"You want us to read a children's book?" I ask.

"Why not? We're all lazy anyway, so why not read something easy?"

"She has a point," Cyan agrees.

I heave a sigh and nod in agreement. Arthur picks up a bunch of copies and tells me, "Get something." 

"Get something?" I repeat. "Like what?"

"Games."

"For us to play?"

"That's what games are used for."

"Well alright. Let's see . . ." I look around on the nearby table and there are some games.

I'm not even going to ask why there are games in a bookstore. To attract more customers by expanding the variety? Maybe.

Then one game catches my eye in particular. "Jenga," I read aloud. Oh, I know this one. I played it a long time ago with my Grandfather, probably when I was about six.

I pick up the box and shove it in Arthur's hands. "Whenever we play this, brace yourself. I will cream you."

"Get another one," he says, trying to stay on topic. He sounds exhausted. I can tell why. Cyan and Julia are arguing yet again.

So then I grab Headbanz and Scrabble.

Arthur heads for the cashier, and everyone follows.

"How do you have the money for all of this?" Charlie asks Arthur. Thank goodness, he finally spoke.

"I'm using the school's money," Arthur answers.

We head for the exit, but stop at the door. "It's raining?!" Julia shrieks.

"No, it's pouring out there," Cyan says. Julia jabs him in the gut with her elbow.

"I'm going! I'll see you guys Monday!" I say, about to leave, regardless.

I take one last sorrowful look at Charlie then jet out.

I don't know why I did that. Did I need to? No, I did. I couldn't bare with not talking to Charlie, or him not talking to me. It just emotionally hurt me.

As I stop running, I look up and let the rain touch my delicate skin.

"What did I do wrong?" I ask aloud, shouting. "Did I hurt him? Did I upset him? What did I do?" 

"What did I do . . . " Then, the thing least expect to happen happens.

I cry.

But in the midst of all my crying, the rain stops pouring. I look ahead and still see it splashing in puddles, so why don't I feel it?

Then I look up and gasp, my iris outwitting my pupil, because my eyes are just so wide that they hurt.

"Char . . . lie . . ." I can't even speak correctly. I start crying again and without thinking, I wrap my arms around his torso.

"You can cry for as long as you like, but I didn't think someone as solid as you would cry like this," he says.

"I'm a girl, either way. And, I'm . . . sorry. I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm so sorry."

Charlie just pats me on the head, his umbrella still up high.

Why do I cry?

Because I like him.