Cursed

--> Ch. 13 <--

Chapter 13

“Are you sure you can't come over, Marcy?” I practically begged to the person in the phone.

She laughed. “Yeah, I'm sure. I'm sorry. Today is the only day I'll be able to buy my prom dress.”

I sighed dramatically into the speaker. “Okay. Well, it was worth a try.”

“Good luck painting your room,” she said sadly.

“Okay, thanks. Bye.” We hung up the phone in unison. That's when I realized I forgot to tell her about my encounter at Ace Hardware. It'd be a bad idea to call her back because she'd just get annoyed with me. I guess I'd save that discussion for a later date.

I sighed and shoved my phone back into my pocket. It was the next day and I had taped down all my walls and put tarps underneath them so paint wouldn't get on the carpet. My furniture was all pushed to the center of the room, making a perfect circular walkway around the cluster. There was a ladder off to the side when I would need to reach the higher places. I wanted someone to help me, and the only other person besides Sam was Marcy. And that was obviously a failed attempt.

I woke up really early this morning, thinking we had school. But when I went down stairs to eat breakfast, my Mom informed me that it was Teacher Planning day, so all students had the day off. And that's why I was sitting here, in my bedroom, alone on a Monday morning.

I was already changed into my outfit for the day, just sweat pants and an old T-shirt, so I wouldn't ruin any of my good clothes. Examining all of my walls, I decided to work on the longest one first. The one with the door and closet entrance held on it. I hauled a paint bucket over to where I'd make my first streak. Where there would be no turning back. I peeled the lid off and stirred the substance. I grabbed the smallest paint brush I had and dipped it into the can. With a quick motion, I painted just above the baseboard. I kept going along the baseboard until my brush ran out of paint. I went back towards the bucket, and that was when I noticed the crumpled up receipt. It was literally sitting right next to the bucket.

“Seriously?” I muttered under my breath.

My first instinct was to throw it again, but then it'd just show up when I started on another wall. I sighed, picking it up. I flattened it against my lap. Sure enough, there was Brandon's number written on the back in neat handwriting.

Would it be a bad thing if I said I actually did want to hang out with him? Just so I could have company? I screwed my lips to the side. Sam wouldn't like this at all. So, there was no way I was going to call. Besides, just because I had the day off, that didn't mean he had the day off. I set the receipt back down and continued painting. My thoughts kept wondering back to that number.

It'd probably just be a one-time thing. He would just come over, help me paint my room, and then leave like the good boy he was. Was he a good boy? I didn't even know him! Sam wouldn't like it, but did I really have to tell him if it was only a one-time thing? No, not really. Not unless he asked. I glanced at the number again. This was retarded. There was no way I'd disrespect Sam like this. I continued my painting.

What if I just called him and if he couldn't come over, then I would never call again? That wasn't a bad idea. I was allowed to have guys as my friends, right? Sam couldn't take that away from me. I looked at the number again. I huffed. Without another thought, I snatched it up and dialed the number.

“Hello?” A man's voice answered.

“Um, hi. Is this Brandon?” I was crossing my fingers, not wanting the embarrassment if it wasn't Brandon at all.