The Wallflower and the Prankster

Chapter Thirteen: Broken Telephone

Alazne

I suck. I honestly suck at every known subject known to man, French, English…Lunch. I’m not sure about the last one but does hanging out in the art classroom pretending I’m busy, count as a fail? Probably, from the other girls who eat in the lunch room.

          They gossip to no end, thought…to be frank. I don’t mind. Being a wallflower I get to eavesdrop without being called a freak, because I’m apparently invisible. Joshua or rather Reynard has basketball practice at lunch so…you know…I’m a lonesome cucumber in a jar. The other cucumber (Joshua) turned into a pickle and went into another jar, like old times. In case you haven’t caught on the jar part, it’s another way for me to say ‘they still haven’t caught guy, so I’m still under protection.’ Great.

          To make matters worse, I stress out and I cry. Literally, Joshua walked in me crying at our last movie night. The movie night he hugged me from behind (hemlock maneuver). A shiver rushed down my spine.

           That still bugs me to know end, I mean I cried before…like the first time we met but never all bloodshot and red-nosed clown mode. Not a pretty memory.

          Karma hit him back and Beatrice somehow found out he was still talking to Sara. I rubbed my temple, observing my math equation. Telling myself to calm my frustration down, I breathe in and out.  Recapping my day, I reminded myself I was at Beatrice’s, after-school, doing homework. That Beatrice was in the other room ready to help me in my failure of work, and Joshua…he was…whatever. For all I knew he was grounded in his room with no really connection of the real world. Talk about human right issues. Not that it mattered, when a group of men was after you, you had to take precautions. 

          I bit the end of my pen, debating my options. Did I really want to ask Beatrice for help? I had to admit, Beatrice half scared me and the other half calmed my nerves down. Kinda like—gotta stop thinking about josh.

          I exhaled, and ran my hand through my hair; a Josh-like move. I scowled myself. Why am I thinking about Josh? Seriously, he got me in this big mess—this ridiculous mess. Josh was…he is weird, obnoxious, arrogant, a no-good charismatic...prankster.  At the same time he was care-free, brilliant, funny, and thoughtful…and—and he had the best smile ever—and omigosh I like like him.

          At that moment of realisation, my heart skipped a beat and throbbed in pain. I knew well enough that this feeling for him was going to be fruitless. At the same time, I wanted, a part of me wanted to believe he had some sort of mutual feeling.

          I let in sharp inhale, amazed by how quickly my feelings of him changed. When did I start liking him? Was it because I was listing his pros and cons that I sub-consciously figured out how he was my ideal?

          I mean he wasn’t the most perfect guy in the world. This whole situation proves it, yet he was…flawless to me. I shook my head, cursing my mind. Just forget it, I told myself. It’ll just get complicated.

          I jerked forward, hearing the phone ring. Is anyone going to get that? I let the sound fill the bungalow. “Beatrice,” I sang in a whisper. Josh?  I didn’t know why his name didn’t come out of my mouth, it was like if I said it…I couldn’t take back my feelings and shove it in a chest and lock it up forever, if only it was easier done than said.

          Pushing back my chair of the living room table, I made my way to the wireless phone on the wooden side-table. Picking it up, I pressed the receiver open, hoping it was a telemarketer.