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『 CHAPTERiii: JUNE WAS ... 』
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JUNE WAS HAPPY. SO EVERYONE IN SCHOOL SAID. June was this. June was that. June woke up on the right side of the bed this morning. June got a new box of Pop Tarts, her friend Tyler Crowley joked. June was off of work today. June was not going to die. That last one was far fetched. No matter how many June was she heard throughout the morning, no one could actually correctly guess what June was exactly, well, was. The real reason was intangible. June couldn't exactly show everyone what she was excited about, because that's what she was more than anything, excited. Bella was supposed to be arriving in a few days. June could hardly contain the beam that came from her and everyone seemed to notice.
Even her dad when he was making her Pop Tarts in the toaster, gave her a weird look as she practically bounced from the stairs. Her outfit even took form of her excitement — a yellow sweater with a baby blue skirt and some long socks that had a few holes in them with her trusty Converse that had seen more rainy days than sunny. June was eccentric-feeling today.
Whatever the case people thought she was happy or excited or anxious about, it all boiled down to her big sister coming to live with them starting tomorrow. June wondered if Bella would like her. She had always been marvelous company to June. Though they were four and five respectively and Bella had always seemed older for her age and took the responsibilities too seriously — June can remember five year old Bella warning June to not eat PlayDoh and June giggling the whole time as Bella chased her to keep it out of her mouth. Times changed though, Bella could've too. She could just not care about June and strictly want to finish school and that was it. Which would be fine. June didn't need everyone to like her, that was a life motto. She didn't hate anyone either. Bella disliking her would matter in the long run away. Because you can't affect someone who's gonna die with your hate.
She'd stress over it later, at length. Right now she had to deal with the attention seeking of the fellow school peers as she walked into the school — the con of Forks, everyone knew your damn business before you could fully comprehend your own damn business. So June was ... steadily faking the oh, thank you's and the polite, sure's when Eric or Tyler or Mike or any other guy came up and asked to carry her bags to class. Usually it was always Mike. June could barely look him in his sad puppy blue eyes. Their friends always used to say if they got married and had kids, their brood would have the most prettiest blue eyes.
