C A T C H 22 |BWWM|

Ch. 9• Babydoll's First

Jackson, MS. October 1943
Saturday, 10:30 am

Paislee

I wandered and whisked my way through my house as the mass of silence fell over me. Nothing was better than having the whole house to myself. My parents had offered to take the family to a small little farm where they did hayrides and different fall-themed activities. I had opted out for the fact that school had my bones aching and plus, I didn't do nature.

I peeled an orange from the kitchen and carefully ate it as I looked out through our kitchen window. I hadn't talked to Beverly since Tuesday—abnormal was an understatement for us. And as for Deen, I had been avoiding him kind of. My dad now drove me to school which gave me little time to socialize with my peers before primo, and it separated Deen and I even more. I did talk to him earlier though. Complaining in his ear about how bored I was by myself in the house.

The doorbell had rung just as I was about to take another bite of my fruit. Furrowing my eyebrows, I rushed to the door, not really expecting anyone.

"Who is it?"

"Me."

My hand froze on top of the doorknob as Deen's voice penetrated through the door. I could practically see the smirk resting on his face. I closed my eyes and rested my forehead on the door. If my neighbors saw him walking up my doorstep. . . I was dead.

"What're doing here?" I hissed as I opened the door a little. In his hand was a brown paper bag and two small orange juice bottles.

"I was around this side of town and didn't see your parents' car in the driveway so I bought breakfast." 

"My neighbors may have seen you, Deen. You can't just pop up here. My parents would go ape"

After giving him a long stare, I opened the door up for him and invited him in. It was better for him to get inside instead of standing outside for forever. In the back of my head, I was scolding myself furiously.

"Make yourself comfortable and close the blinds would you," I said.

"Look, you can have the food and I'll just leave," Deen offered.

"No, sorry."

I plopped in a seat near the kitchen table next to him. He was taking out food from the bag. Waffles, eggs, sausage, and even bacon. Pushing all the food to me, he rested his chin on his palm.

"Where's yours?"

"I didn't get anything, this is for you. I hope you like all of it because I didn't quite know what to get and then–"

"I like everything, but I'm not just gonna' sit here and eat all of this in front of you. Here, let me get a plate for you."

I had grabbed a plate from the cabinets and busied myself with splitting all of the food. Deen complained about him not being hungry but I ignored him.

"Eat," I demanded. Deen rolled his eyes and sipped on his orange juice. Shoving a forkful of eggs in his mouth I watched him chew with a happy smile on my face. "Thank you. How'd you even get bacon? That stuff is rationed more than coffee or sugar. Like good Lord."

"Why've you been avoiding me?"

I put the fork down on my plate and took a sip of juice. "Um, my neighbors saw me getting in your car all those weeks and told my mama. She had already seen you at the diner and told me to stay away from you and stuff. After she found out that I was riding with you, my parents have been doing all they can to make sure I'm nowhere near you."