CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
I stared into a small red box , frowning at the amount of coins that lay inside. Two quarters, a nickel, and... An arcade token. Fifty-five cents.
Earlier in the week, I had done my Christmas shopping for my family and Jen. I bought a few things at the mall, a cheap bracelet at Walmart® and a gift card to a local coffee shop. All seemed well, and I was almost certain I was finished until a thought crossed my mind. I didn't get anything for Jack.
I immediately started brainstorming over what I could make him, seeing as though buying something else was not an option. My brain was lacking ideas. I could make him a card. Lame. I could regift something. Like what? I sighed. This would have been much easier if I knew what he had gotten for me, so I could compare the values.
It didn't hit me until I was sitting in front of my canvas, staring blankly at my latest painting. I would paint something for him. It was the only thing I could think of. Now the only problem I had was finding out what to sketch, design, and paint.
In order to think in a clearer way, I started pacing my bedroom. That escalated to me roaming the house, hoping for some sort of inspiration. I even grabbed and apple to bite on while I thought, because I was supposed to have a healthy snack every day.
If there was one thing Jack loved that would be taking pictures. I was visualizing the day we met, and the conversation we'd had. Back in my bedroom after racing back up the stairs, I sketched the lens to a black camera, sort of resembling his.
I finished within twenty minutes and began painting. A hand was clutching the camera, the index finger laying on top of a button, just about to take a picture. I had a strong feeling he would love it.
--
Winter break had started and Christmas Eve finally came. A cup of hot chocolate in my hand, I sat with my mother and father, watching How The Grinch Stole Christmas, a usual tradition for the family, only we were missing one person. Mark. He was supposedly going to the movies with his friend Andy, but I knew what he was really doing, and it ate at me all evening.
"This guy is so negative." I remarked, hoping to get my mind off of things.
"Why does he have to hate on Christmas?"
My parents both looked at me strangely.
"What?" I sipped my cocoa. "I mean, I get the moral of the story like, he becomes a better person, but is stealing CindyLou Who's tree really that necessary?"
"I suppose not." My mother responded.
"But then the story would be rather boring." She faked a British accent on that last word.
"Hmph." I slumped back into my soft cushioned chair and continued watching the Grinch stuff various foods and Christmas presents up the chimney. Salty came up on my lap and rubbed her face on my chin. Her loose shed fur floated in the air, too close to my mouth. I nudged her and she collapsed into a heap of purrs, wanting me to pat her more.
"What if we got another cat?" I asked suddenly. Salty's head bobbed up when I said this. In fact, so did my father's.
"No." My parents said in unison.
End of that conversation, I guess.
Sooner or later, I started dozing off. Right around when the green guy's heart grew a few sizes. I could barely keep my eyes open, but I didn't sleep. Mark wasn't home yet.
He didn't actually arrive until about midnight, and my parents were suspicious. They knew he didn't spend all that time at the movie theatre, so they asked where else he'd gone.
"Me and Dawson went for some pizza first and the movie was longer than we thought." There was a fatal flaw in his lie. He'd told us he was going out with Andy, not Dawson.
"I thought you went out with Andy." I stated quietly, but just loud enough to make my point.
They both realized I was right, and began asking him where he really was. I was sent upstairs after they really started getting angry with him, so I wasn't able to bud in on conversation. I tried to eavesdrop, but didn't hear much.
Mark's bedroom door was closed at the end of then hallway. Part of me knew it was wrong, but I went in anyway. It smelled like peanut butter and potato chips, a weird combination. I looked around, stepping over a few articles of clothing scattered on the hardwood floor. There was something noticeably hidden in his pillowcase. I swallowed the lump in my throat and pulled out the object. It was a bag, filled with none other than... Weed. I stuffed it into my pocket and adjusted the pillow back to the way it was, then ran to my bedroom as fast as I could.
Only moments later, he stomped up the stairs and slammed his bedroom door behind him. I could hear him rustling around through drawers, flipping things around obviously looking for something... Something that was currently in the grasp of my hand. I stepped into the hall as he opened his door and rubbed his hands through his hair vigorously, sighing with frustration.
"Looking for this?" I dangled the bag in front of me.
He glared at me, then swallowed hard. "Give it back."
"Why do you do this?" I was trying to be quiet so my parents wouldn't hear.
"GIVE IT BACK." He repeated himself, much louder.
"Not until you answer me!"
Mark started moving towards me slowly, glaring at me. He picked up the pace reaching out his hands to grab the bag. I dodged his attempt and ran to the end of the hall, slipping past him. He cornered me, and ripped the bag from my hand, then shoved me back. As he turned away, I said the words; "You're a monster." But he didn't flinch, didn't give me the slightest glance, he just continued walking. Unaffected.
