Saving Bagel ↠ Editing

Chapter 12: K for Karma

An hour after pepperoni pizza, my lazy ass is still sitting on the living room sofa, watching TV when the doorbell suddenly rings and continues to ring without planning to stop.

Damn them Girl Scouts.

Annoyed, I jump from the couch and grumbling along the way, swing open our red front door, surprised to see that a tear-streaked Jasmine was breaking down on my doorstep.

"Jasmine?" I try to stifle my surprise, but from the unexplained guests randomly showing up at my door, then only time will tell when Justin Beiber himself will show.

"Bagel, please. Don't even try to act surprised," She manages a shaky smirk, the original trademark of Jasmine. "Can I just, stay at your house, for tonight. I-I didn't know anybody else. My parents kicked me out." Her voice was deathly quiet, tired almost. But nonetheless, she was quivering from the unshed tears with a glimpse of perfection in her wavy blonde hair with a stream of brown underneath.

"Um, sure. Yeah, just be quiet. Dad will flip if he sees you," Jasmine nods, arms wrapped around herself in a precautionary hug. "And I'm sorry, about well, you know." She nods and wraps her arms tighter around her stomach.

She pads onto our welcome rug, trying desperately to claw away any signs of being defenseless, of being hurt, at her face- but the heavy mascara has already stained her cheeks.

I give Jasmine a reassuring smile from the center of the living room, but she hides herself from view with an ashamed rose kissing her cheeks. Hugging her body, she spun around self-consciously.

If only I had the balls to tell her that I would've done the same.

Oh wait, I never had balls to begin with.

We walk to my room in silence with the fear of Dad seeing us. At the end of the hall, lined with framed pictures of diseased family members staring at me through peering lids, I grab the brass, round knob and twist it, a click sounding as the door swings inwards.

Motioning her to follow, I walk straight to my messy and disorganized closet, while Jasmine gazes around the room with tears still in her eyes. Piles of strewn old shoes coat the bottom of the white carpeted floor while rainbow vomit hangs on plastic hangars. I grab two pairs of old, plain tee's and plaid pajama pants from a pile hiding in the corner and creep up behind Jasmine. Her back is turned to me while she stands and faces my bed.

I hurtle the clothes at her back with a grin. She flinches away and takes a few steps in the opposite direction before turning around towards me. "What the hell?"

I must have looked confused, astonished maybe, because she smirks. "Gotcha ya."

I shake my head and smile, "Whatever. You didn't even expect it."

"Maybe, maybe not." She flips her wavy hair over her shoulder and begins shaking her chest, grinning with her platinum eyebrows raised high.

Knowing her in the little time I have, her attempt of trying to seduce me failed horrifically. Since the both of us were straight and all.

I roll my eyes with a mischievous grin, then turn and face the wall for a small piece of privacy while I change, her doing the same, while I hum a guitar riff I have just taught myself.

Turning around from my bedrooms corner of privacy now in pajamas, Jasmine the same, we both move to sit on my water bed. The bed groans and sloshes at us with discomfort from the unknown presence of such weight. But nonetheless, we sit rather uncomfortably now side by side with our spines breaking against the wall, our fingers digging into my floral quilt.

But somewhere deep inside my locked and guarded heart, the burning of the truth pains me, snapping at me to let it go, to let it be free and roam in the open wilderness.