𝔍𝔞𝔯𝔞'𝔰 𝔏𝔬𝔤𝔟𝔬𝔬𝔨

#10

I don't want to lose you now
I'm looking right at the other half of me
The vacancy that sat in my heart
Is a space that now you hold

- Justin Timberlake, "Mirrors" 🎵

*

"By all the freaking gods, Reese! What kind of perv watches a person sleep?" I'm practically bawling out the words. "I hate you more than you can possibly fathom right now! How'd you even get into the house? When'd you get here? Most importantly, and I don't think I want to know this, but what did you freaking see—?"

"Are you going to keep gunning me with questions or would you let me do the talking?"

I hurl myself off the bed like some superhero on all the comic books. My flight isn't half as glamorous; I thud, nay, collide, headfirst with the floor. Mercury purrs mischievously and Reese giggles.

"I'm going to skin you two, "I groan as I wrench my trousers upwards. My penis is now flaccid, so I have no problems pulling the fabric to my waist. I pore at Reese. " Spill," I order her.

"Why don't you first tell me why you're waking up at ten on a Saturday morning? Don't you say prayers with your parents?"

"I have," I explain. "We woke up, said prayers, showered, attended Mass and had breakfast. I still felt sleepy, so I returned to bed. I don't recall we had group study today."

"And that's when you dreamt your way through some sex labyrinth?"

"It wasn't a labyrinth. It was a library." My words are so obscure I'm sure Reese hears nothing. But my certainty is debunked with her next comment.

"Library sex is so stereotypical."

"It's not like you'd know anything about it, Reese. You're also a virgin." I sneer.

She snaps her fingers saucily, punctuating every word. "I like being a virgin, thank you very much. The good God loves that." She's swinging her hands so effervescently that she almost hits the framed picture behind her.

"Careful!" I alert her. "Those icons are blessed. They shouldn't be handled recklessly."

She turns around as I straighten my hair at the vanity. "Who are these?" She asks.

"The beautiful, golden-haired man in the picture is Saint John the Apostle. Beside him are the Holy Child Jesus and the Infant Mary." I didn't think I should bore her with the history of my selection, so I halt myself there.

She averts her gaze from the prayer corner, meeting my face again. Her eyes are laced with avidity. "Who was the dream about?"

"Swear you won't tell Ash," I adjure her. She nods and I continue. "It was Tremaine."

She's positively bamboozled. "Hold up. Do you mean the Tremaine Hunt?"

"The very one," I answer her. "Gosh, he was good."

"Good at what?"

Both Reese's and my head swirl, befuddled as we both are. At the door stands Ashish, his features highlighted by a knowing smirk that communicates to me just how much he heard.

I face Reese. "You didn't tell me he was here."

She scratches her hair in that manner old-timers do right after an episode of forgetfulness. "Er, I was going to—"

"We came to personally drag you to today's game," he interrupts.

I quote Myles Halter from John Green's Looking for Alaska, my tone dismissive and reluctant. "I hate sports. I hate people who play them and people who watch them, and people who don't hate people who play or watch them."

"Not even when I'm playing?" He pouts delicately just as Mercury licks my fingers.

"Remind me why I love you again?" I ask him, before verbally consenting to the invite. Reese listlessly feigns a "yay".

I feed Mercury and then descend with the two to the living room where Dad is about to head for The Lourdes. "Dad," I begin, wary about sounding compliant and not like some caustic, middle-class brat. "I've got to—"

"Go watch a game at your school. I know," he trails off. "That young man over there," he motions at Ash, "told me everything. I'm glad your friends want to shake off the woman you've become."

Reese is piqued, and rightly so. "Excuse me, sir?"

"All he does is help his mother in the kitchen when she wants to cook us a meal, as is her duty. He's also too submissive. He takes no interest in sports and shooting and other manly things. That's only for weak women. That's all they'll ever be: weak and in need of protecting."

Great, Dad just sold himself out as both chauvinistic and misogynistic to my very feminist friends. I also hold feminist views, but it's understandable why they're never outwardly expressed. Reese is about to retort, but Ashish grips her wrist, intentionally scraping her softly with his fingernails.

"Sir, we'll be going now. We don't want him to be late for the big game." Ashish courageously rips the silence.

"Well then, Jara, i jikwa igodo gị?"

He's asking me if I've got my keys. I tap my pockets on cue, easing up as I hear chinking. "Yes sir, I do. May I go now?"

He nods. "Be safe. Dominus tecum." (1)

I contort my face into an artificial smile. "Et cum spiritu tuo." (2)

I head out the door and wait for my friends, who are obviously still stupefied by Dad's scalding comments. They walk through and I shut the door.

"Your dad's a butt," Reese states. I nod affirmatively as we walk toward school.

†

The atmosphere is quite raucous. I don't think I've ever seen such an explosive turnout for any sporting event in Voltaire High. Not that I'd know anyway.

I'm standing at the spectator's area, attempting to spot Ash and Trey. The Voltaire Bullocks are matching against the Albany Bears, a pack of cocky, bumptious boys from some fancy prep school. I hate the self-asserting looks they're shooting at our school's pitch and facilities. Good Jesus, could You please disfigure their faces with a lightning bolt?

I buy some doughnuts and a soft drink from a neighbouring stall, one which I assume was temporarily erected for our convenience. I spot the cheerleaders perfecting their formations. Then, I spot Reese.

"Hey!" I holler. She acknowledges me and approaches. "Have you seen Ash?"

"He's in the locker room with his teammates. I guess they're prepping for the game."

"Can I go there?"

"His girlfriend's there. But you can go for Tremaine."

"Luckily, I don't need to," I remark as the players file out. I wave inconspicuously at Ash to avoid fazing his girlfriend. I rush to Tremaine and fake a masculine hug. "Good luck out there."

"That's it?" He grins. "Aren't you going to say a prayer for me?"

"Maybe a Hail Mary," I reply. "No pun intended."

He laughs and walks away. I join Reese and sit beside her.

"Hey," I hear someone familiar call to me. It's Asha. "Could I use your phone for a minute before I head down there? Miner's drained."

"Sure," I smile. I see her fingers hurriedly pattering across the screen and I hear that beep that notifies of a sent message. She slaps the phone in my palm and scurries off.

"Weird," I mouth as I sit beside Reese.

Exactly then, I see Asha turn, intently flashing me the most discomforting scowl I've ever had from her. She runs her thumb across her neck in a semicircular motion, and I'm getting conflicting signals.

I don't know, did Asha just threaten to kill me?

†

Translation Corner
(1) Latin, literally, "The Lord [is] with you."
(2) Latin, literally, "And with your spirit."

Please vote and comment!