by CJ Adler
I glance down at my camera and click on through all the pictures that I've taken to see which are worth keeping. I smile to myself when I come across a picture I deem worthy of the standards a professional photographer would have. It's of the school's oak tree, and the lighting and angle are practically perfect.
What people don't get about photography is the fact that a single picture can say more than a million words. Pictures capture single moments and memories that will stay with you for eternity. Pictures are replaceable, but the memories they hold are irreplaceable.
I view my latest picture of the oak again and analyze it closely this time 'round. It's only on the second inspection that I notice something unusual sticking out behind the bottom half of the tree. I cock my head to the side to observe it more carefully but come up with no theories.
How did I miss that when I took the picture?
I walk back to the oak tree itself and begin to circle the tree, searching for whatever it is that ruined my best picture yet, but I come across nothing. It can only mean that it has moved, and if it has moved, it either means that I'm in a horror movie, or that it is a person.
I lift up my camera again and look through the lens, testing it, but stop short when I see a person walking some distance away. I'm able to make out a black leather jacket and dark brown hair. The hair color matches the mark in my picture. It has to be the person that unintentionally destroyed my perfect piece.
The person suddenly turns in place as if he knows he's being watched, his sixth sense sharp. He glances my way, and it's then that I see it— blue eyes, not just any blue eyes, bubblegum blue eyes.
Jay Taylor sure knows how to play hide and seek well. I've been trying to locate him during school hours for the past week. I want to return his stupid jacket. He owes me an explanation for just falling off the edge of the world.
He looks up and quickly spots me capturing his every move. He frowns and begins walking away.
I automatically lower my camera in response and run after him. I need to get my vengeance on him for not pitching up the other day after I worked for several hours decorating his jacket; speaking of which, he has a black leather jacket on right now. If he had two all along then why the hell did he go out of his way to make me clean his previous one?
It soon becomes apparent to me that he played me.
What's he doing in the school garden in any case? I would figure that the school garden just isn't his scene. Then again, I could be wrong. A troubled person like Jay might find the emptiness and quietness comforting.
From what I've seen and heard, Jay Taylor absolutely despises noise.
The one thing he hates more than noise is people. For as long as I can recall, he's always preferred his solitude over popularity. You could say that he's kind of an outcast by his own doing. I've known him for a while but have purposely steered clear because of his intimidating persona.
I draw to a close as I near the spot he'd just been standing in, only to find that it's now empty. I scout the entire area, but he's long gone. I can only assume that he still wishes to remain hidden from the public eye. He doesn't want to be found.
I stare down at the picture as I contemplate on deleting it, my eyes wandering to the part where the top of his hair is sticking out just behind the foot of the tree where he'd been sitting.
In the end, I decide to keep the picture. It may be worth keeping.
Chapter 4
Losing the Plot
“Oh for goodness sake, Simo, my name is Aqueela!” I yell out, truly exasperated with this ongoing battle between us. He drains me of my energy. I don't know how he holds down a job. If I were the manager, I'd fire him in a single heartbeat.
“Sprinkle!” he calls back, seemingly amused by my reactions. I frown.
“You good for nothing—”
“I love it when you talk dirty to me,” a voice cuts me off.
I spin around to see who it is, only to find no one behind me. It's only when I cast my eyes downward that a chubby life form comes into view. Unfortunately, I recognize the kid.
“Pork Chop?” I question aloud, using my own creative nickname that I made up for him.
“'Sup, babe.” He gives a little nod like they do in the movies. “And the name's Blubber…Blubber Bond.”
He didn't even do it right.
I groan. “Oh for—”
“Now now, no bad words in front of the children,” Bell intervenes from beside me.
I sigh internally. I knew she'd eventually find me.
“I told you that if I ever saw this…” I trail off to point at the form of other life in front of me, “again, then I'd murder him. He wouldn't give me his bubblegum ice cream. The little…” I falter off while muttering obscene words under my breath, aggravated at Mason, Bells, Simo, and this random kid. “How'd you find me in any case?” I settle on asking her instead.
Bell raises her eyebrows, angling her head to the side in disbelief that I'd even have to ask. She twirls her finger around, motioning to the store that we're currently standing in. “It was kind of a given, don't you think?”
I nod, having now thought about it.
“Give me some credit, I know you better than you think,” she tells me. “When you're upset, you either disappear and takes photos or stuff your face with bubblegum ice cream. I realized that you'd be done with the former, hence the latter,” she explains. “Besides, we need to talk about what happened earlier on. Mason and I got into an argument after you left.”
I sigh aloud in guilt. “I'm sorry, Bells. I never meant to let it slip. It was on impulse.”
Bells waves off the matter with the use of her left hand, her gold charm bracelet catching my eye. It matches my own. It's our best friend bracelets, a reminder of how far we've come.
“No worries,” she assures me. “That's already in the past. I actually meant you, as in talk about you and not Mase. I'm concerned,” she admits, revealing her perspective. “I've never seen you get so mad before. Well, I have, but not in a long time.”
“Mason's rude.” She needs to understand where I'm coming from.
Bells nods. “I know. I'm sorry.”
I shrug carelessly. “So, we're good then? 'Cause I could care less if Mason hates my guts, but I can't bear the thought of us not being on the best of terms with each other.”
I ignore the fact that Blubber and Simo are blatantly eavesdropping on our entire conversation.
Bell hugs me. “Of course we are. We always are and always will be. You're like a sister to me,” she confesses, warming my heart in the process.
I grin and step back. “You are irreplaceable, Bells.”
She winks playfully. “I know.”
“Sprinkle!” Simo calls out from behind me.
My calm demeanor leaves as all self-control and self-reassurance fly out the window. Why can't he just say my name correctly? I jump around to face him, irritation in my tone as I acknowledge him, “What? What is it now, Simo?”
Simo juts his thumb out to something behind me. I turn back around, only to come face-to-face with bubblegum eyes himself. Just my luck. I'm bound to get it now.
Jay glances down at me expectantly. I'm sure he's about to ask for his jacket back, but what I'm not expecting is for the next words to spring out of his mouth.
“I'll have anything except bubblegum. Surprise me.”
I freeze for a second as his words resonate with me. Shocked, I send him a dark glare, and, this time, it's not because of his bubblegum insult. I place my hands on my hips and frown up at him. “Excuse me?” I blurt out, wondering if I heard him right.
“I said I'll have anything but bubblegum,” he repeats calmly.
I'm astonished by his request, so much so that I open my mouth in an attempt to speak but fail, no words taking form. I end up opening and closing my mouth, offended. I realize I must look like an idiot, which is nothing new.
“The service here is just terrible,” I hear him mutter. All I can do is blink
at him, astounded by his nerve. “Hello?!” he snaps, waving a hand in front of my face. “Can you help me or not?”
At first, I'm not sure if I hear him correctly, but then he repeats himself and I just know that I've heard right. I would say that it's not Jay, only a lookalike, but no one except Jay Taylor has such blue eyes, not even Mr. Manager dude.
It's official, Jay's forgotten who I am.
“Not!” I finally respond, unbelieving of him and his audacity.
“Jeez, then no tip for you,” he says under his breath as he turns to Simo for assistance instead.
“I don't work here, you looney tune!” I shout at him, annoyed.
He turns around with a grin plastered on his face. He holds up his hands apologetically. “My mistake.” Just before he turns to face Simo again, I see a devilish smirk slowly etching its way onto his lips.
I glance at Bells to see that her expression mirrors mine. She's confused too. She looks to me for answers, but I merely shrug, probably more lost than her.
I glance back toward Jay, only to see Simo holding his usual grin in place and Blubber stifling his laughter behind his chubby fist, almost as if they're in on it too.
“What are you laughing at, Pork Chop?” I question, irritated—mostly because Jay forgot ever running into me. I guess I'll never have to replace his jacket now.
Who forgets someone they have met after a week? Jay barely talks to anyone, let alone meets new people, yet, still, he manages to wipe me from his memory entirely.
“My name is Blubber!” the kid corrects me.
I raise an eyebrow at him skeptically.
“I'm serious,” he defends himself.
I stare at him curiously, and when he doesn't budge, I realize that he's telling the truth. It's my turn to hold back my laughter. “Makes sense.” I giggle as I eye his form and link it to his name. “Your parents knew what they were doing.”
I don't care how much younger he is than me but, obviously, Bells does because she gives me a disapproving glance.
“What?” I huff innocently.
I receive a 'you-know-what' stare in return.
I break under the pressure of her gaze. “C'mon, Bells, if he wants to bark with the big dogs, then he's got to stop peeing with the puppies.”
Bells merely shakes her head. “You'll never grow up.” “Never,” I confirm her theory.
She laughs before her eyes widen at something. She stops laughing and motions over to Jay. At first, I think she's trying to imply something, but then I realize that she's telling me that Jay just pushed in front of me.
Simo was still busy taking my order.
First, Jay doesn't pitch on our agreed time, then he mistakes me for a worker, and now he pushes in front of me. That's three strikes against him. He's out of here.
Acting on impulse alone, I forcefully shove Jay away from the counter to get back to the front of the line. I instantly regret my action. What I failed to notice before, was the strawberry ice cream he'd just been holding in his hands. I stiffen and watch in horror as it goes flying out of his grip before cascading down the front of his second leather jacket.
Uh-oh!
Jay falls silent as he turns to give me a murderous stare. I gulp, fearing what action he may take next.
“At least, it's strawberry flavored this time. Maybe he'll go easy on you,”
Bells whispers in my ear, and not so silently either, breaking the tension thickening in the air.
I don't take my eyes off Jay and whisper back to her. “Not really helping, and in case you didn't know, everyone in this room can hear you, including the culprit,” I conclude and point to Jay, in spite of him being able to see and hear us.
“I'm not the culprit. You are…again,” he raises his tone in irritation, accidentally admitting the truth.
My face brightens up in realization upon hearing his words as it quickly sinks in. “Uh-huh!” I yell in joy and point a finger in his face accusingly. “I knew it! I knew you remembered me.”
He scoffs. “How can I forget the person who ruined my previous jacket? And here you go again—” he motions down to his jacket as he shrugs it off, revealing his defined torso underneath the v-neck “—ruining my new jacket too.” He turns to Bells next as if planning on lecturing her as well. “And I think that it's in your best interest to learn to whisper.”
I nod my head, agreeing with him. “Tell me about it. I tell her that all the time. I even gave her intense whispering classes, but she's just not an ace student…if you know what I me—”
“You're one to talk,” Jay interrupts me from continuing any further with my rant.
He doesn't stop there. He continues with his outburst, hopefully releasing all that hatred that he's been bottling up for so long. I end up zoning in and out of his lectures of me being a klutz and how I should be more careful and yadda yadda ya.
Instead, I tune into Blubber and the sentence he'd just directed at me. “So, I'd like to know why you never called me after I gave you the 'go for it' sign,” he queries as he licks his sixth ice cream in a row, within the span of ten minutes.
I'm confused for a brief moment until I remember back to when he gave me the 'call me' gesture on the day we first met. I'm about to tell Pork Chop that even if I wanted to call him, the genius never gave me his number, but another voice cuts in:
“Yeah, I too would like to know why you never called.”
Mr. Manager guy…
I turn around, immediately met by his blue eyes and velvety voice. “I was waiting eagerly for your call but it never came.”
“I know,” I admit, recalling that I ripped the paper with his number on in half. “And I've had a hectic time stalking—” I catch myself in time, “—studying, so I—”
“Are you even listening to me?” Jay questions aloud, clearly frustrated with my lack of response. He's about to lose it all over again.
I turn back to Jay to answer him but get interrupted when I hear Simo's nagging voice, “Sprinkle! Sprinkle! Sprinkle!”
“He's calling you now? You 'roped' the manager of the store in? How'd you get that right? Now you probably get free ice creams all the time,” Blubber complains. “Oh, you devious creature you!” he finishes sourly.
“Simo is talking to you. Stop being rude!” Bells informs me, always the polite one among us.
“You got a kid and a manager calling you now?” Jay asks me, confused, as he tries to fit the pieces of the puzzle together.
I want to answer him, but Simo decides to annoy me further. “Sprinkle, watch me do the 'Tummy Tickle'!” He shakes his tummy and dances on the spot.
I swear he just does this to get a rise out of me.
“Sprinkle? Your name is Sprinkle?” Jay questions, puzzled yet still fuming.
I shake my head. “He just calls me that,” I explain, now feeling overwhelmed.
“Stop ignoring 'blue eyes'. He wants to know why you haven't called him, and quite frankly, so do I,” Bell adds amidst all the commotion, not doing anything to help.
“You're leading the worker, the kid, and the manager on, all at once?” Jay prods, seemingly repulsed at his own assumptions.
Simmer down, simmer down.
“Wait, you're dating my employee, Simo?” the ridiculously hot manager guy asks me upon hearing Jay's words.
I begin to lose the plot while trying to answer everyone's questions. They're all talking at once and coming up with their own conclusions. It all becomes a big blur as everyone continues arguing with one another:
“Sprinkle! Tummy Tickle!”
“Put that blubber away, Simo. It's inappropriate. I'll lose clients.”
“I heard my name.”
“No!” Simo insists stubbornly. “Sprinkle must do the 'Tummy Tickle'!”
“Aqueels, just talk to him already!”
“Why haven't you called me, goddess?”
“You're too young. I'd like to know why she has yet to call me.”
“Sprinkle tinkle tummy ti
ckle!”
“You're all insane.”
The last comment clearly belongs to Jay seeing as he is the only one storming out the store, muttering colorful words under his breath.
Can I really blame him this time?
No, no I cannot.
I follow suit and walk out after him, in dire need of fresh air. I look around for him and spot him holding his jacket over his arm as he crosses the street. I check both sides of the road, and when I see that it's more or less busy, I decide to run over in any case.
A car honks at me as it slams on the brakes, swerving slightly and just missing me in the process. The woman in the car holds up her hands in exasperation. Her mouth is moving so quickly. I'm pretty certain that she's cursing me. I'm just thankful that there's a frame of glass separating me from her...oh, and that I'm still alive.
Fortunately, the commotion I just caused (the cars all honking at me as I take my time in making my way across the street) manages to capture Jay's attention. I take my chances in approaching him while he's distracted.
Upon seeing me, he sighs aloud and shakes his head. “What do you want? I don't have any more jackets for you to ruin,” he says sarcastically, having cooled down slightly—strawberry ice cream is refreshing at times.
“You didn't pitch. I waited an hour for you,” I remind him of our deal, ignoring his weak insults.
“That's because it was my old leather jacket. I had it replaced with the new one that you just messed strawberry ice cream on,” he informs me in nonchalance as if it's no big deal.
My eyes widen and my mouth falls slightly agape at the news. “Then why did you tell me to wash it if you had another jacket the entire time?!”
“I figured it would keep you busy. Plus, you did me a favor. I was looking for a way to get rid of the old jacket.” He shrugs as if I did not spend three forsaken hours on his previous jacket.
I eye his new jacket lying over his right arm. Before he can even see it coming, I snatch it off his arm. “I'll see to it that this one gets cleaned too.” I retaliate.
He scoffs and reaches forward to retrieve it. “I don't think so.”