Hundred Words

Seventeen

Seventeen

I thought it would be more climactic, coming home. I thought there would be more to do, than play video games with a sore arm, eat food, and sleep. I couldn't exactly go outside, and play sports, while getting swarmed with bright flashes of cameras, eager ''paparazzi'' that I frankly don't care about . So I just sat, becoming a couch potato on doctors orders.
I am pretty sure that it wouldn't endanger my health by going to school, but most of the times my mom just sits down at the kitchen table and stares, never bringing school up, so I in turn, never ask about it. It's like some twisted form of a mutual agreement.
I also want to see Jess. I heard about her on the news, and I think she deserves the fame, not the fated girl who got shot. I got hurt, bad. Why does that make me special? It's not like I saved five hundred kids by wrestling a bear, or something like that. But Jess saved my life. That is more than anybody, anywhere, could ask for.
The balloons seem to mock me. Now only the original ones, the puppy dog relieved of his duties and now serving Eli. I want to punch them, and I don't know why, like I'm stuck in a perpetual bad day, and I don't really know why. That is why I'm so frustrated. Because for once in my life, I am really, truly helpless.
~~~

I walk down the stairs from my room, my phone clasped firmly in my hand and my pointer finger tentatively poised above Jess's number. My jaw is in a permanent frown, and tiny butterflies are stirring in the pit of my stomach.
Jess has called my house three times, and my phone twice. I didn't answer because I didn't know what to say. How do you thank somebody for saving your life?
So I just sat and stewed.
What a wimp I am.
I find the bottom of the stairs and sit down. My arm seems to creak as I support myself, like a wood plank that you can't trust enough to lean on for fear of it giving way without warning. A giant, messed-up waiting game, and I am the guinea pig. Great. Because every girl is dying to get this horrible sort of arm. I let out a shallow breath I didn't know I was holding. My eyes dance across the screen of my flashing phone, and my butterflies are bouncing madly around in my chest, begging to be let out like they do during school presentations.
I wish I could help them.
I scold myself for being afraid to talk to Jess. It's not like she's going to yell at me for almost dying, or complain about how she was the one who had to save me? Right?
"Hello?"
"Ummm..." I fumble for words, cursing myself. "Hi?"
"Oh my gosh. It really is you, not that stupid voicemail. I missed you. Are you okay?"
I gasp. "You're asking me if I'm okay?" Silence just buzzes between us for a while. What the heck am I saying? You don't just go a scold someone for asking you if you are okay, right? I'm probably making no sense after only one poorly thought out sentence, nothing more, nothing less.
I try to cover up my mistake. "I mean, you were probably scarred for life doing that...I mean, didn't you think someone was going to jump out at you and kill you too?" Oh great. I used "I mean" twice and started talking about myself as if I were dead. I feel like a bad friend, for no good reason.
"I thought you tried to kill yourself, or like it was some dream. It was like..."
I almost dropped the phone. Jess thought I killed myself? Did she think I was depressed? Did she ever think I was depressed?
"Oh God,"I whisper into the phone, directed toward me more than Jess.
"Yeah."
"Well, I didn't try to...you know..." I try to find words that aren't awkward, and I'm pretty sure I fail.
"Well, how are you doing?" She asks, suddenly perky. I thank her inwardly.
"Well, I think that my arm has seen better days. Much better days, if you ask me. It kinda sucks."
"As I'd expect. And how are you, as in, not your arm?" She's rolling out the questions now. That's the Jess I know and love.
"Well," I start to giggle."People are practically swarming my house. It's insane. I wish they were swarming him. You know?"
"I like it. Revenge of the Paparazzi." That statement is so classic, so positively Jess, that I have to smile despite the circumstances.
Then there is a laugh shared between us. My arm bends, and I wince.
Reality check.
Life just slapped me in the face.
Hard.
"Hey, well, I'll see you soon. Okay?" I say, suddenly light and constricted. I need to hang up the phone, and I don't know why.
"Um, okay. Will you be back in school soon? I miss you." She asks, and my heart goes out to her. I just wish everything was normal again.
"Hopefully. I miss you too."
"Okay then. Bye."
Why do I feel like I'm about to cry?