i sat on the red and black checkered sheets of my bed. i placed my head in my hands and sighed. i needed someone to talk to, desperately. i decided to hit up my fourth grade pen pal from texas. her name was katherine, but i called her kitty kat for short. we'd been talking since the fourth grade and i automatically connected with her. we had similar interests and i could talk to her about everything it seemed. we had never met, but she was one of the best friends i ever had.
i couldn't stop thinking about jonathan; he had something special. he had something the entire world needed. i couldn't believe i had never seen him before, but i have heard his name around. i know people we're saying something about a cereal commercial, im pretty sure it was captain crunch or something. i hated myself for getting attached to something so out of reach. it's like his eyes were the galaxy and i was pluto; the outcast.
i called katherine but she didn't answer. probably at volleyball or something, i thought. i decided to lie on my bed and listen to some music. maybe if i felt up to it, i would paint a little later. i sat up and put on some beatles. i chose rubber soul, for that album is severely underrated but it's also my favorite.
i decided, yeah, i would paint. it had been a while since i touched a brush. i squeezed tubes of acrylics onto my plate serving as an easel. each stroke of robin and burnt sienna let out any negatives within me. i was cleaning up when the phone rang.
i practically leaped to answer it because i thought it was kat. boy was i wrong. on the other line was just the man i did not want to hear. the man speaking was my speech therapist, mr sheldon. i have a nasty stutter and don't talk much because of it. mr sheldon is actually a cool guy, i like hanging out with him. my stutter isn't as bad with him. he was calling to ask if i had done my "homework". each week i was to speak to at least three new people. "so, jaime, have you completed your homework?" he inquired.
"i talked to this guy named j-j-jonathan today."
"well that's superb missy! definitely beats the past few zeros we've been getting."
"yeah. i guess so."
"jaime," he said with contempt, "you're beginning to tell stutter with me love. what's wrong?"
"n-nothing. just had a rough day. t-that's a...all."
i got a call coming from another line.
"b-b-bye mrs. s-sheldon."
"mrs?"
"sorry, i, uh, meant m...m...mr."
i hung up on mr. sheldon and answered the other call, which was most likely from kitty kat.
"w-w-wasssup dude!!!!" i exclaimed.
"is this the correct number?" the voice asked.
this was definitely not kat. unless kat's voice dropped to a man's.
"hi, i, um, am calling for jaime?" the *deep* voice questioned.
oh no. it was jonathan. i didn't want to talk to him.
"oh. y-yeah, this is h-her." i stammered.
"oh hey! i just wanted to say thanks for the help today with gerald."
"i-i-it's n-no p...problem."
"i have to go, talk to me tomorrow at lunch okay? i just wanted to say thanks real quick. you seem like a great friend."
"t...t...thanks."
friend? i met the boy once. he probably just wants to get a conversation out of me. it seems like a game at school. whoever can get the longest conversation out of me wins the game. that's me jaime, the 14 year old stuttering freak. but hey, if anyone were to win the game, i'd want it to be jonathan. there goes my heart, again.
