Tangible Things [ ONGOING EDITING ]

Vol: 1. Chapter Seven

+ S E V E N +

     On Monday, I found myself watching my own naked reflection in the bathroom mirror. My towel was still hanging beside the tub, whereas I stood totally bare, just plainly—watching. My skin was pale, as you could see my blue veins running up my chest and down my arms.

The cancer was doing wonders on my reflection. I was thinner than usual; and I was tired of hiding it behind all of my sweatshirts and loose jeans. I looked over at my planned outfit, tilting my head at the fitting pants and tight top that I knew would be more revealing than I intended.

But I didn't care, I'd go to school completely bare if allowed. But of course it wasn't.

I slipped into the fitting items of clothing, smoothing the t-shirt down my stomach. I made my way back into my bedroom, frowning confusedly over at Melanie who was in her cheer uniform, tying her hair up into a high ponytail. "Why are you in your uniform? Early practice?"

Melanie nodded, rolling her eyes annoyedly. "Yeah, Coach Lynn wants us to be extra ready for nationals—speaking of which; you should come with. Finally talk to coach about maybe joining before nationals?"

I winced, playing with my diamond implanted into my earlobe. "Uh, I don't know, Mel. I mean—"

"Oh, come on, Jules. Don't think about it, just do it. And plus, coach'll love you. You're awesome." Melanie tried her best to calm my nerves.

"Okay, fine," I laughed out, "I'll go."

     Once Melanie had finally arrived at Asheville, I slipped out of the backseat, dragging my tank along behind me. I began my trudge toward the front few doors—but Melanie pulled my arm her way. "No way, Jules. You said you'd come talk to coach."

I groaned, having forgotten about what I'd promised Melanie while we were getting ready. "Mel, come on—"

     "Nope. You promised. And remember; this could be good for the both of us. M and J—we're MJ." She sent me a light smile, reaching her hand out toward mine, silently asking for mine.

     I flicked her hand away, scowling playfully. "I'm fine to walk on my own." She raises both hands in a mockery of surrender, suddenly looking a bit too excited for an early-early morning practice.

     "Stop smiling like a weirdo—wait, I almost forgot; a certain Meredith Palmer'll be there." A wide spread tinted red displays itself onto her cheeks, and I poke one of dimples. "Ooh, Melanie has a crush . . ." My words trail off when I see the same slop of curly, brown hair along with those dimples I haven't been able to stop thinking about since last weekend.

     Noah doesn't see me at first, only continuing on his conversation with a boy who looks strikingly alike him. They seem to be arguing about something, as Melanie watches curiously beside me.

     "See," she shakes her head disappointedly, "baggage."

     My heart aches in my chest I wonder if everyone in Asheville sees Noah the way Melanie does. I certainly don't see him like that. I see him as the beautiful boy who didn't pity the sick girl—but was nice to her. Genuinely nice.

     I flinch slightly, when Noah pounds a hand on the lockers beside his presumed relatives head. The smaller boy, who can't be any older than me, pushes him back, stomping down the hallway quickly. I sigh in relief when I think it's over—until Noah shouts out to him. "If I find out you're taking them, you're dead, Cole!"

     So-called, Cole, shouts right back. "Screw you!" Noah takes a deep breath, his chocolate colored eyes finding mine. They pin mine down—almost accusingly, and I swallow the lump in my throat as he makes his way out of the senior hallway. Melanie begins talking again, most likely about the scene that was displayed in front of us.

     But I can't hear her. I can only see the hurt on Noah's eyes, and I feel the familiar feeling of loneliness—while having cancer; you begin to accustom yourself to the feeling.

     But I hated seeing the same look of sadness and overall anger in those eyes I've been retracing since Friday night.

     The feeling I was feeling was sympathy—I felt for him.