Written. (JB//Complete)

Chapter 36.

        Later the next morning, I sit in my room rearranging and moving around every little thing because I felt the need to be productive. It's all going in boxes anyway.

I haven't really done anything, now that I have no more school work or outside-the-house responsibilities. Well, unless Mom miraculously comes up with something for me to do-reminders that actually mean she's ordering me to fix it, like it were a chore-like she always manages to do.

"Scarlett, why is your cup still at the table?"

"You kept the bathroom light on, Scarlett."

"Can you take care of the mess you left on the coffee table?" and by "mess", she means that one, little pencil I was using for homework. Oh, speaking of the devil...

"What are you doing? I left boxes in here for a reason," she tsks, standing in my bedroom doorway and watching as I move around some picture frames.

I shrug. "I'm just moving things around."

"You're moving out, not redecorating room for the better," she says, then looks guilty as a saddened look replaces her scolding one.

I sympathetically gaze at her, stopping with the rummaging and taking a seat on the wooden chair that matches my desk. "Ryan said he wanted to stop by, so I suggest you clean up a bit."

I nod, and she leans on the wall, now fully inside my room, taking in the expanse as if it were the last time she'd be seeing it.

"You ready?" she sighs. "For all of this?"

I look up at her with a questioning look. I hate how she keeps bringing this topic up, but I know she's only trying to find conversation, even the most unnecessary of subjects, because her little baby is moving away.

"I don't know. I guess, yeah, I'm ready." I try adding some clue of confidence in my tone, but there's no way I'm fooling my mother after I've already made the uneasiness evident.

I guess it wouldn't matter anyway, trying to act as full-headed as her, especially when she's in the same emotional boat as me.

She comes close to me, now leaning against the desk. "Yeah. Me too."

I'm not sure whether she was talking about herself being ready for me leaving, or if she thinks I'll be ready too, but either way, I'm glad she's ready for something. She gives my forehead a small, yet rare kiss on the forehead before walking back to the door, placing her palm on the splintered edges. "Now come on, Ryan is going to be here soon. At least tidy up to make room if you aren't planning on finishing this tonight." She takes steps away, but then turns back to add more. "Oh! And I've been called into the office, some bozo's got some 'top-charts stuff' to go over with me. I won't be home till late." She gives me a sympathetic look, then wishes me a good night.

I nod at her back as she clacks away on the wooden floor. I look around me at the many boxes before my eyes, but that's all I intend to do with them, for now. As my eyes watch around the room, they catch that tiny, little, stupid book sitting on my desk. I still haven't looked through it yet. I guess I'd rather forget about the times I've shared with Justin. Practically everything I've recently written down in the past couple pages are about him. Maybe I should just get rid of them. Burn them maybe. No. Since when would I deal with fire?

I let my delicate fingers glide across the leather bumpiness of the cover, getting familiar with the material once again. Once they've found their long-lost scent on it, they find a way to lift it up into their grasp, retrieving it to my hands.

My brain keeps giving me ideas, as well as my palms, to flip through each and every page, to ram the memories that I'm trying to forget about get stuck in me again. I almost do it, but I'm glad I don't when there's a light knock on my open door to stop my further actions, indicating someone is entering. My head flicks up to the cause, almost dropping my journal to the ground. Ryan's smile turns into a face of confusion, his chocolate eyes darting to the book in my lap. My mother wasn't joking when she said he'd be here soon, and I should have been prepared.