Crazy in Love

We've been sitting in the hospital for nearly three hours, now. It's so tiring being here. And it's distressing, too. Hospitals always depress me and give me the creeps. I release a long, exhausted sigh and lean back in my seat; I have a cup of coffee in my hands. It's gone cold.

"It's all so odd," Joyce decides to speak, staring into space, "Why do people hate James?"

I shrug indifferently while playing with the cup as though it's the only cute interest in my life, "... Jealousy can be confused for hate. He's just a good guy. People wish they were like that."

"Are you sure?" Joyce now looks at me; she's being serious, "Warren? Jealous of James?"

"James is around me a lot..." I shrug confidently once more, nodding, supporting my theory.

Joyce shakes her head with a light snort of disbelief, "Come off it, Ally. Think about it. If someone's that great, you'd think they'd be popular and everyone would like them. You and I? We're all he's got here... why is that? I can't help thinking that... that someone nice would have more friends. Something's just not right."

I feel a bit disappointed in Joyce. Why is she talking like one of them? Like one of the simple-minded, labelling people at our school who judge based on looks. I sit upright and place my plastic cup of coffee on the empty seat beside me.

"Don't talk about him like that," I snap at her protectively, "coming to a new school, making new friends - it's hard. And especially for someone like James who fits so easily into a category that isn't exactly admired. Some people might see him based on his appearance rather than his personality..."

"So you agree. He's a loser." Joyce states boldly.

My eyebrows furrow in annoyance, "I didn't say that."

"You just did!" She snaps back.

"What is your problem??" I yell at her all of a sudden.

She is taken back by my outburst, but she doesn't back down, "You wanna' know? My problem is that ever since James came here you're forgetting who your real friends are. He's odd, Ally! And as sorry as I feel for him, you can't keep protecting him and taking his side. You can't keep going out of your way for him; he's not your little brother. He's a grown teenager, just like us - same problems, same pressures, same everything. He's got to learn for himself. Stop babying him and start being yourself again!"

Her words hit me hard. I never really knew it was like that... I haven't actually stopped to look at what's happening. But... she's right. I am babying James. And James isn't bothering to stop me. What's going on?

"I'm going," Joyce stands and picks up her bag, "let me know when the Ally I know comes back, ok."

I part my lips to call after her... but I don't say anything. I just let her go. I sigh, once again, something I enjoy doing to help me express my emotions. I relax limply in the metal seat and decide to stare at the white, cracking wall opposite me. Why was I here?

"Ally." My dad calls me.

Wow, time had passed quick. Just a second ago it was half three, now it's nearly five? I slowly stand up, feeling tired, feeling lazy, and allow my mum to wrap me up in one of her special hugs. My dad strokes my hair.

"Come on, let's get you home. Your friend has parents - I'm sure he'll be fine." My dad assures me.

I look out at the hallway down which the nurses had led James six hours ago. Yeah. He would be fine without me. I have other things to deal with, anyhow. Like Warren. I want to speak to him... As my parents take me out of the hospital and out into the car-park, I slip out my phone. The txt from Joyce is still there, from this morning, when the police came in. It says: 'police r tlkin 2 us. Matt's gon missin. Wtf?' I roll my eyes and delete it. A bit late, huh.

Next, I find Warren's name in my list, and select options, send text. I write the first thing that comes to my mind: 'Hope you're ok. Ally x'. The drive home is slow. The police car is still outside, monitoring the area. They're probably going to give up soon - that freak isn't coming back. When I get inside, I go straight to my room and crash-land on my bed. Jelly jumps up and tries to play with my feet, so I tuck them under the bed sheets where they're safe from her claws. I scratch under the pillow - she pounces. She makes me smile.

"Hi, baby..." I whisper, and pull her to me for a hug.

She struggles, however, and I release her. I don't want to force her to cuddle, otherwise she'll never enjoy it. I can't force her to love me. But I'll help her to, in time. Bored, tired, feeling strange from all the random events that have taken place over the last week, I drag my ass to the bathroom and get in the shower. It's so warm...

"If someone's that great, you'd think they'd be popular and everyone would like them. You and I? We're all he's got here... why is that? I can't help thinking that... that someone nice would have more friends. Something's just not right."

I keep thinking about what Joyce was saying. She does make a good point... but my explanation was fair. People can turn jealous so easily, over the silliest of things. I know, I get jealous sometimes. Everyone does. Ah, here I go again, defending him. Why do I do that?... He's just so vulnerable to me. I feel protective over him. I can't help it.

When I finish my shower, I see that my mobile is flashing on my bed. I have a text from Warren: 'I'm fine. Bailed out by my dad, but he's pissed. I'm sorry about what happened. Hope we're still friends. W xx.' Finally, someone who spells properly in a text. It always annoys me when people shorten their texts. Besides, you use up only half of the page, so that's such a waste of credit, or if you're on contract then a waste of a text in general.

I lie down on my bed, still damp, with a towel wrapped around my head. I'm in the process of texting Warren back, but my eyelids are too heavy, and I eventually fall asleep. I wake up the next morning - my mum, bless her, must have changed me into my pyjamas, as I wake in my silky, white teddy-bear ones. I stretch and roll over so I can slap my alarm clock off. I observe the teddy bear on my sleeve. It has a blue ribbon, just like the bear James gave me. What a coincidence. Which reminds me that this afternoon I'm going back to James' to do some Maths studying with him. For some reason, I'm not entirely looking forward to it. Meh. It's Maths - what more can I say?

I brush my teeth, wash my face, yadda yadda, and put on a little brown dress with a white t-shirt underneath, and my roman gold sandals. I do like my dresses. Breakfast is eaten, then my dad drops me to school before heading to his office where his employees take calls and arrange meetings, take enquiries, give help and anything else they can offer.

Matt still hasn't been found. Police are patrolling the school - it makes us uncomfortable. As though we're living in a horror film. I don't see Warren anywhere, either, and James wasn't in Maths. It turns to lunch time. I find Joyce at her usual place, at the front of the queue.

I walk up behind her, thinking of what to say; I come out with something simple, "... Hi."

Joyce looks at me, awkward, not knowing quite what's happening between us, "Hi."

"... I'm sorry, Joyce... You're right," I frown apologetically, "About James... I-... I'll try to stop babying him."

She studies me, as if assuring herself that I'm telling the truth. She knows me so well, she'll be able to determine the truth without hesitation. Just by the look in my eyes, she'll know I'm being real.

She smiles to reveal her forgiveness, "Welcome back."

And so, we grab our lunch and find a table. This time, it's just the two of us, like it always used to be before the transfer students arrived. Not that I regret them coming - but it's nice to have Joyce to myself again.

***I wish Ally had stayed at the hospital and waited for me. That would have shown me how much she cares... but now I'm just being bratty. She was tired. She was upset, and wanted to be in the comfort of her home. At least she was happy. I can't wait to see her later... I hope she worries when she realises I'm not in school. I'll surprise her. Pick her up from school just before she gets on that bus.

She'll love it. Like her knight in shining armour on a dazzling white horse - except I'll be me in an old banger. Oh well, at least I have a car. That much ought to impress her. Just think, James... you'll be next to her, in your house, smelling her hair and watching her work. And there will be no one else around.

I want her so badly, it kills me.***