"Your lasagna, ma'am, as promised."
I looked up from my sketchbook and barely had time to shove it back into my tattered bag sitting by my side when I saw Jake approaching me with a blue, book-sized plastic container in his hand. I put on my best welcoming smile and mouthed a thank-you as I accepted the box, already emitting the mouthwatering smell of the baked pasta with hints of tomato sauce and melted cheese that made my stomach growl.
Although, since the cafeteria's meals weren't exactly 'decent' to say the least, it was no wonder why I actually had an appetite to eat that day.
My parents would usually be ecstatic to know that I actually ate lunch for the day, but conveying the message that I wouldn't be bringing lunch from home for once was a little bit of trouble in my part. Naturally, they'd thought I was going to skip the meal again just like how I would always skip breakfast, and was about to lecture me about my poor dietary habits when I simply told them that a friend was bringing lunch for me. Again, they thought it was just another silly excuse like the other ones I've made up for the same purpose of not eating. Now, I had to either go through another fruitless attempt to convince them that I actually ate that day or make up another, more believable excuse of why the peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich in the brown paper bag buried deep inside my bag was still fully intact.
The container itself was faintly warm to the touch and I couldn't resist peeling open the lid as soon as it was in my hands, and sure enough, a perfectly-cooked, decent-sized, square-shaped lasagna sat in the middle, oozing with tomato sauce, ground beef and mozzarella cheese. There was also already a metal fork placed inside, and I didn't waste time to cut a small piece off of the pasta and brought it to my mouth.
He wasn't kidding. It was the best one I've ever eaten, and I didn't hesitate in digging in for the rest of the delicacy, even while he was laughing his head off as he reclaimed his seat, made out of dried leaves and twigs, beside me.
"How long has it been since you last ate, woman?" he joked. I turned to him momentarily and nudged him in the gut. "In all honesty, Hayley, you look like a homeless lady who hasn't slept or eaten in three weeks."
"So I look dead is what you mean," I clarified, glaring at him. "Because I'm pretty sure people can't go for more than a few days without food."
"What I mean is that you have a dead giveaway that shows that you are not in a good situation right now." He rested his backpack by his left and leaned back down on the sturdy tree bark behind us. He still had that same dark hoodie he wore every other day, but this time with a white Green Day t-shirt underneath. Just as he did the first time he was here, he took out his pack of cigarettes and lit one up and placed it in between his lips. "Care to share what's been bothering you?"
"I've only known you for three days, dude," I casually said, barely giving a damn with the life-saving food in my hands distracting me from everything else, including the self-project I was working on just moments earlier. "Don't think that I no longer assume that you're some serial killer who's just being nice just so that you can lure me in and kill me when I least expect it. Then again, I always assume everybody's out to kill me."
"Well goddamn. That lasagna was supposed to be a bribe to you so that you'd at least share me some of your secrets. I mean, the scenery and the tree and the secluded spot in the school courtyard... This is the type of place where movie characters go to share secrets and whatnot. And maybe even spread a rumor or two about the school's honorary bitch, but that's beside the point."
"Oh, I can trash-talk about Madison for 24 hours straight if you want me to." I shoved another cut piece in my mouth, chewing and swallowing before talking again. I was still a lady with manners despite my attitude, you know. "Or about Mel, which gives me a lot more material to discuss with than that bitch of a sister of hers."
He scoffed. "I still can't imagine how a couple managed to create two daughters with such opposite and opposing personalities like them."
"That's because they didn't," I replied. "Mel's parents divorced once upon a time ago and her dad won the custody battle, so she's been staying with father dearest for as long as she can remember. Unfortunately, Mr. Turner decided to marry another woman—a very attractive blonde, I should say—and she brought her daughter from her own previous marriage, who turns out to be the bitch with the biggest ego in the entire city. We're unfortunate because she just so happens to be the same age as all of us, hence the two being in the same grade despite having birthdays that are only three months apart."
"Ah, the typical Cinderella story, I see," said Jake, nodding. "Let's just hope that the stepmom doesn't kill the father to inherit the family fortune and force Mel to actually deal with fireplace cinders."
"Oh, don't worry about that; Mel's father was undoubtedly unhappy with her mom and probably left her for a good reason. He and the stepmom, on the other hand, had known each other since childhood, and she's definitely not the 'evil stepmom' kind—well, not with her constantly inviting me to join the Turner family gatherings every now and then. The only 'evil' she's done is forcing me to accompany her to the mall for a shopping spree the other day, and having me pick out an actual summer dress for me to wear for their next gathering."
"The skank must've gotten her rotten attitude from the other dad, then," he decided. "What about you? Any part of your life is part of a children's fairytale's?"
I scoffed and laughed while shaking my head, although deep down I was getting somewhat irritated by his constant questioning. Sometimes I would look at him and feel as though he was staring at me like one of those complicated 1000-piece puzzles that he was so determined to solve, with his focused gaze and a pondering frown. Sometimes I wished he would never look at me at all.
"And somehow, you can still redirect the conversation back to me," I finally said, but refusing to meet his gaze this time. "If you think I feel flattered by it, I'm not. Now, I'm going to ask you this once and once only: why? Why do you act as if our conversations are even the slightest bit interesting to you? What made you decide that I'm someone worth talking to?"
I soon heard rustling to my left, and the butterflies immediately invaded my stomach when I felt his presence closer to me. Although I tried to resist the temptation, I couldn't help but turned to him. There he was again, with his detective-like stare while his dark eyes blinked with curiosity. I didn't get it; to others, the 'ordinary girl' façade worked perfectly. Why did the newcomer have to be the one to see through it?
"If I wanna be honest with you—which I always am—then I'd be telling you that I honestly do not know. You seem... approachable, even though you think that you're not. The way people looked at you almost made me think that you were some kind of bully, and then people everywhere are either ignoring you or talking about you behind your back. But my principle has been and always will be to never judge a book by its cover, even if the entire synopsis of the book was written in the title itself. I just felt like I need to get to know you better."
He nudged me softly with his shoulder, probably worried when my eyes darted downwards, not knowing if I should be flattered or offended. If anything, I was a victim than a culprit, but like any damsel in distress should be, I'd gotten tired of it to the point that I didn't care anymore.
I didn't care about most of it, though. I still had wounds to patch up that made me just as vulnerable as I used to be, and the scars they left behind didn't help me either.
"Patience, grasshopper," I murmured as I shut my eyes and inhaled deeply. "How would I know to trust you with deep dark secrets when, again, I barely know you at all?"
"If I'd known you wanted me to tell you all about myself first, then I would've done so ages ago." I soon heard the sound of shuffling beside me, and to put me at an even more loss of words, I peeled my eyelids open to see his shadowed figure looming over me. He had a single outstretched hand while the other was clutching the strap of his bag that was clinging onto his back, and the cigarette had already disappeared. I was confused by his actions at first, when suddenly the dulled-out sound of the school bell ringing echoed from inside the building, signifying the end of the lunch period.
Realizing what he'd been meaning to do, I quickly gathered my stuff and accepted his hand, allowing him to pull me back up to my feet as I flung the strap of my own bag around my shoulder, letting the bag itself rest by my waist. We then started heading back towards the school entrance, apparently in no rush even though it increased our chances of getting detention later on for being late.
"Can I come to your place later on after school?" he suddenly asked, turning to me with a shy and sheepish grin. I widened my eyes and was about to question his intentions again when he quickly added, "I'll bring my favorite movie and some food if you'd like. And if your parents allow me to come over, that is."
I started parting my lips but closed them again as I was caught in a loss for words. "Is this your way of properly introducing yourself to me? Or is this some deranged plan of yours to get me alone and stab me with a knife repeatedly and leaving my dead body to be found by my parents or the police?"
"Woman, why is your mind always wired to murder and violence?" He was complaining but he was laughing. "And to answer your question, sort of, yeah. And I need someplace to hang around, as long as it was far away from home right now."
I didn't get to answer as by this time, we'd already reached the doors and entered into the crossroads of chaos, where students shuffled around and frantically ran their way to their respective classes. When I turned back to him, he was already waving me goodbye and went off to the direction opposite to where I should be heading to, leaving me stranded and confused without anything else to say. I simply smiled and waved back to the person I never thought I would grow so close with already at an incredibly short period of time.
And yet, once I was alone again, I couldn't help but wonder why I was willing to trust him enough to even let him take a sneak peek into my daily life, why I was so willing to be friends with him even though I shouldn't. Like how he'd described me when he first met me, he clearly shouted out 'bad news' to my face just by his appearance. His seemingly innocent and docile looks did him no justice when he dressed like some shady drug dealer who smoked at a regular basis and confessed into having tattoos, the last of which I hadn't seen proof of, yet. His friendliness could've been a ruse for all I knew.
And if history repeated itself and things went south again...
There will be nobody but yourself for you to blame.
Exhaling sharply, I kept my head down as I headed for my next class, carefully avoiding eye contact from anybody around me. Despite this, I couldn't help but take notice of the students dressed in matching outfits marching down the hallways, putting fake smiles on their faces as they approached each and every student they met along the way, handing out a sheet of paper to them before moving on to the next person.267Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2ad07UTCyZ
Seeing how both Mel and Madison were tagging along in the group, the former being the only one filled with actual school spirit, I realized that they were the members of the Student Council.
Once the group got to me, Madison rolled my eyes and glared scornfully at me before simply walking away, pretending to have not seen me as she moved to the person behind me instead. The others followed suit, all but Mel, who gave me a sympathetic look instead and handed me a sheet of paper similar to what the others got.
I looked down and scanned it, catching the words 'Homecoming Dance' immediately.
I sighed and was about to throw the flyer away but she insisted, shoving the flyer straight to me. "This is our last year," she said, staring at me with a serious look in her eyes. "Believe it or not, a lot of the people you used to be friends with just want things to go back to normal, if you want things to go back to normal. You know, make this one worth our while. Pam misses baking rainbow cookies with us, Conrad needs someone to geek out with..."
I clenched my jaw and attempted to keep my composure, before she suddenly placed what should've been a comforting hand on my shoulder that instead made me feel even more tense than I already was. "We're all here for you, Hayley—especially me, because I'm your best friend goddammit—and even Jake is here for you now. He doesn't know what happened, and the details are still fuzzy to the others, but they know how much you've had to go through this past year and are willing to put whatever's in the past behind us if you are."267Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ47KRA0pnvT
"He's gonna be there," I murmured faintly, staring blankly on the surface of the printed flyer. "Mel, he's one of the most popular guys in school and the captain of the basketball team. He will be there."
She instantly knew who I was referring to, as her expression immediately turned sour, then concern, then reassurance. "Well, he'll have to get through me and possibly the rest of us if he has any ideas on his mind." Her lips formed a sad smile, scowling momentarily when her sister called for her to catch up. "Just think about it, all right? If I have to ask every single one of our friends to beg you to join us—and that includes Jake—then goddammit I will."
"I might," I replied almost inaudibly. Madison was already yelling frantically at Mel, who pressed the flyer closer to me before leaving me with it, sprinting down the hallway to catch back up with the group.
I glanced back at the flyer, bit my lip and threw it in the trash.
When I met Jake again after school in the parking lot, he was already leaning by the hood of a pale-blue pickup truck with a cigarette lit up in between his teeth, even though I didn't even say yes to his earlier offer. I looked over to the back of the truck, and was genuinely surprised to see none other than my trusty old bicycle lying down across the bed.
I guess I didn't have to worry about some small-time crook stealing that precious and only mode of transportation of mine.
I wasn't even thinking when I marched over to him and reached into pocket, pulling out his pack and was about to take one out when he quickly snatched it away from me with a bewildered look on his face.
"Okay—what the fuck?" he said with wide eyes, stuffing the pack back into his pocket and away from my reach.
I scowled and look away, unable to meet his eyes. "I need something to take my mind off of things for a second. You said they were stress-relievers?"
"And lung-killers, too." Even though he kept his voice and composure as calm as possible, I could somewhat tell that he was at least a little bit pissed at me. "Just because I'm killing myself, doesn't mean I'm going to let you do the same."
"Well, that's sweet of you, but I can take care of myself, thank you very much." I was still compelled to just torture my poor lungs with the damned things, which was probably why they were called 'stress-relievers.' I needed some 'stress-relieving' after Mel kept on pressuring me to join this year's Homecoming festivities, especially after she kept to her word of having all her other friends and my former friends convince me to join in as well.267Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡAkFrQZxpY1
I reached for the so-called 'lung-killers' again but he refused, instead walking round the truck to the passenger's door and opening it. "Just get in and tell me where to go, and we can talk about this later, alright?"
Reluctantly, I trudged over and climbed into the rusted metal bucket with an engine, tucking in my bag by my side as he slammed the door shut once I was fully settled in. I took a quick look at the truck's interiors—it was a two-seater, its leathery skin peeling off around the edges and revealing the soft yellow foam underneath. There was an old stereo system fitted near the dashboard, complete with knobs to tune the radio's frequency. The truck's frames creaked with the slightest movement, and I wondered how Jake would be willing to damage his belonging even further by slamming the door and nearly tearing it off of its hinges.
The owner himself caused a clang to echo throughout the cabin when he shut the door and settled into the driver's seat, fishing the keys out of his pocket and sticking them into the ignition. The engine coughed and choked unhealthily a few times, which made me a little bit worried until it started after the third try and the engine roared to life.
"It's secondhand, by the way," he said to me, taking note of the concerned look on my face. "Old Betsy here was nearly sent to the junkyard if I hadn't found and saved her from her impending doom. I know someone who's good at fixing cars up, and he owes me quite a favor which I very much need right now."
"You named the truck Betsy?"
"I used to read a lot of X-Men comics when I was little," he reasoned, shrugging. "Psylocke was one of my favorite heroes back then, other than Cyclops and Wolverine."
It took us almost fifteen minutes since I got into this car before we finally started moving and leaving the school's parking lot and into the main road. The truck, despite its obvious signs of distress, was surprisingly able to speed up very quickly and brought us to where we wanted to go without a hitch in the road. Throughout the entire ride, I gave him directions to where my house was, but otherwise remained silent as he was. I would've thought he might want to question why I wanted to steal one of his precious cigarettes, but it seemed that he didn't even want to talk about it at the moment.
Eventually we reached to the poorer part of the neighborhood, but thankfully it wasn't where most of the city crooks lived. It was still a decent neighborhood, with almost all houses mirroring each other's, designed as simple and as modest as possible, with only two floors and a tiny front yard with a white picket fence and all. We might've lived in the worse part of town if Dad's job hadn't offered to pay him extra to help pay off the mortgages, so even though my house wasn't as great or comfortable as Mel's or any other student's, I was eternally grateful that I didn't have to worry about getting pickpocketed whenever I had to walk to the nearby convenience store to buy groceries.
The neighbors were just as decent, too. Every now and then, the elderly ladies living in the houses around the cul-de-sac would set up a bake sale or garage sale or just a friendly neighborhood gathering, inviting everyone in the neighborhood and even beyond to join in the fun and socialize and get to know one another a little bit better. Just like Mel's family gatherings, I was forced to join them each time, most often because Gwen wanted to buy some cookies and my parents were too busy to take her there, so I would be the one to accompany her in a quest to satisfy her sweet tooth.
It was late afternoon when we pulled up by the curb in front of my house, with the first stars already twinkling in the skies above and the yellow street lights being turned on already. Jake was hunched over the wheel and peering over to see if we were at the right house, even though I already assured him that we were. Turning off the engine, he quickly exited the truck before I even took off the seat belt and hurried over to my side, opening the door for me like the gentleman he was.
"Have I ever told you I'm a man with manners?" he then said, a cocky smile on his lips.
I smacked him gently in the chest, but couldn't help but smiled as well. His mere presence could already make my worries go away, as crazy as it sounded like. I jumped off and walked over to the front porch, switching the porch lights on while I was there. Once Jake went over and was standing beside me, I raised my hand to knock when all of a sudden, the cream wooden door creaked open all by itself, startling me that I nearly jumped and fell back if Jake hadn't been standing behind me and preventing the fall. I'd expected one of my parents' heads to poke out from the slightly open doorway when I looked down and see a tiny, twelve-year-old's beaming face instead, curiously peeking around the door with her bright little eyes.
"You brought home a boyfriend?" she blurted out all of a sudden, as soon as her eyes darted over to Jake. In response, he merely waved at her, with a hesitant grin on his face as he looked to me for an answer.
"He's just a friend, Gwen," I said to her, pushing the door as she moved back to avoid getting hurt. "Say a single word to Mom and I'm taking your precious Sherlock Holmes collection away."
Immediately, she pouted but playfully skipped her way back to the living room couch, her curly brown hair tied to loose pigtails bouncing on her back all the way there. She was apparently busy reading another one of her children's novels that I was sure she'd already read over three times, while soft Beethoven music was softly humming in the background with the only stereo system we had inside the house, sitting on top of the shelf beside the TV stand.
"I take it that's your little sister," said Jake behind me, and I turned around to see him already inside and closing the door for me.
"My adopted sister, actually," I replied, sighing as I walked over to the couch and dropped my bag and myself right next to the little munchkin, who now no longer paid any attention to me. She never would once she was absorbed in her own little world of imagination written into the pages of her favorite books. She was different from the other kids that way, but I didn't blame her whenever her misunderstood teachers would complain to Mom and Dad about how she couldn't really keep her focus in class, especially when it came to practical work and engaging with her classmates. She was special, but in our family's eyes, it was in a good way.
"Oh?" He seemed intrigued, gazing softly at my little sister as if she was his own sister. I almost smiled at the sight. "Is she adopted, or...?"
I sighed again, absentmindedly stroking Gwen's hair, knowing that this topic would be brought up sooner or later. "We both were. But I don't want to talk about that right now, because you promised me a movie and popcorn."
"I promised you a movie and snacks, not popcorn in specific," he corrected, but not after remaining silent and possibly pondering my words for a few moments judging by the surprised look on his face. "I could only buy a couple of two-dollar bags of chips and a couple of energy bars. And that took up half of my allowance money for this week, but I guess I don't need it since I've been stealing lunch from you for two days in a row."
True to his words, he unzipped his backpack and took out said snacks, placing them on the coffee table in front of us while he sat down on the sofa chair next to me, not hesitant at all to make himself home.
"That's fine, I guess." I stood up upon realizing that we, in fact, had a guest here for once and as one of the people living in this house, it was sort of my responsibility to actually make the guest feel at home. "Would you like for me to bring you a drink? A can of soda, a glass of water..."
"Soda would be just fine," he replied, smiling gratefully. Without a second to spare, I walked over to the direction of our tiny kitchen, with its pristine-clean counters and stove and utensils and everything. I went to the fridge and brought two cold cans of Coca Cola out, and with one in each hand, walked back to the living room area. Once I arrived back, the music was turned off but Gwen was still absorbed in her La La Land, while Jake was crouching down at the DVD player by the TV stand, probably setting the movie up for us to watch.
How the hell did I get dragged into this again?
Setting the two cans down on the coffee table right next to the snacks, I couldn't help but looked over to the open DVD case abandoned at the edge of the table, and almost cringed at the title and cover of the DVD case.
"Titanic?" I stared at him questioningly, cocking an eyebrow and shaking my head. "Really?"
"It's a classic," he said, the corner of his lips curving up to form a lopsided smile. "And besides, this movie marks the beginning of possibly one of the most brilliant actors of the century."
"You do know that he's being made into a meme, right? As brilliant as you think he is, his three nominations—not wins—for the Oscars state otherwise."
"Everyone knows all of those award shows are rigged," he stated bluntly, returning to his seat as the television screen abruptly turned on, showing a bright blue screen before it darkened a second and reappeared with the DVD title menu.
"Wait—isn't this a PG-13 movie?" I quickly glanced at Gwen. "Jake, she's only twelve."
He too turned to the youngest person in the room, and a look of disappointment crossed his face. Gwen, however, seemed to finally be taking notice of our conversation when she finally looked up, glanced back and forth between the two of us, then to the TV screen, and her mouth formed an 'o' shape as she realized what was going on.
"I get it," she murmured. "You don't want me to see the naughty scene between Jack and Rose, do you? Just to be clear, I know what happens in the movie like you both do, and I don't understand why you're watching this in the first place—"
"Because Leonardo DiCaprio is a brilliant but under-appreciated actor," Jake immediately interjected.
Gwen nodded. "Granted, I have heard of his talent, but you can just safely ignore me because I won't even pay attention to half of the movie. And besides, I'm turning thirteen this year. What's the big deal?"
"The big deal is that Mom is going to ground me for an entire month if I let you watch this god-forsaken PG-13 rated movie." Although, I had to admit, the movie was quite good. And rather depressing. "That's it. We're cancelling movie night. I'm sorry, Jake."
Jake nodded understandably, grabbing the TV remote again. "Nah, it's okay. I can watch some other time—"
"Alright! Alright! I'll leave!"
Shocked, we both turned to Gwen, who was already standing up and taking her book with her as she headed towards the stairs leading to the second floor, her tiny feet thumping on the brown carpet floor.
"And where are you going, young lady?" I questioned, glaring at her suspiciously.
"You and your new boyfriend can have your little movie night," she said, plastering a sugar-coated smile that I knew was hiding a bitter core in the inside. "But, only if I can join in on you guys the next time you have a movie night in our place and—" she smirked like the devious little devil she was, "—if you'll do all of my homework for an entire month. Also, remember that this is a movie and I know what happens in it, so please do not get any ideas from what they will do later on in the movie, all right? I sometimes eat and sleep on that couch, too, just so you know."
My face immediately burned up as I felt the blood boiling in my cheeks, glaring and throwing daggers at her with my eyes. I was blushing furiously like no other, but I didn't know if it was because I was incredibly furious at her or if it was the most utterly embarrassing thing that had ever happened to me. And she wasn't even biologically related to me—not that it mattered much, anyway.
"Gwen!" I angrily snapped at her, standing up and stomping my foot as she scampered her way up the stairs, giggling like the child she was all the way there. "We're just friends, for Christ's sake!"
I didn't move a single muscle until I heard the sound of our bedroom door clicking twice, open and shut, and only then did I breathe out an exhale of relief before plopping back down on the couch. I literally slapped my forehead, no matter how much it'd hurt—why do kids have to be such a pain sometimes?
I didn't even dare to face Jake after what happened between me and Gwen, and I didn't even look at him when I heard him moving from the sofa chair to the couch right next to me, although still maintaining some distance, obviously well-aware of Gwen's words and was taking precautions against it.
"I think the books have affected her too much," he joked, laughing feebly at his failed attempt to cheer me up.
"Well, it's the only thing that keeps her chatterbox mouth shut," I groaned, peeling my hand away from my forehead and staring at the still-running title menu screen before me. "Just don't... don't take any of what she said seriously. Don't get me wrong—I love her like the family she is to me, I really do, but you have absolutely no idea how much I hate her right now."
"Of course I won't," he said nonchalantly, turning around and facing the screen before pressing the play button. "Kids these days with their imagination. And besides, you've told me this before—we've only known each other for three days, and you still think that I'm some serial killer even though I can't do shit with a knife other than cutting vegetables, maybe. This movie is just to show you that I have an appreciation for fantastic actors and probably amazing movie soundtracks sung by Céline Dion."
Even when his eyes were glued to the screen like how Gwen's eyes would be glued to the printed pages of her beloved books, I looked over to him, and smiled.
Somehow, he always knew the right thing to say. Even when he didn't need to.
We mindlessly watched as the opening credits rolled by one by one, and when the first scene began, I grabbed a bag of chips—it was probably only good to last for about one-tenth of the movie—and opened it before setting it in between us. I could visibly see him mouth a 'thank-you' to me, glancing at me only momentarily before he went back to the movie, even if he probably watched it for millions of times already.
I silently smiled to myself and turned back to the screen, and we stayed like this, silent and still and eating terrible chips, for the remainder of the movie.
ns 172.70.131.204da2
and then Add to home screen.