Fever

After I had finished telling Jasmine the story twice in full detail, I didn’t think it was possible to repeat in any further. There were so many little things that I felt had to be included, even though Jasmine probably couldn’t accept the gravity of it. She couldn’t understand the way his smile would waver, and then tighten and turn into a grin. The way his voice would echo back from the cliff-top, or his laugh as it rippled out into the afternoon. There was so much about him that I hadn’t noticed before.

“So, he didn’t kiss you?” she asked, leaning back in her chair.

I was pulled from my daze and sat up on her bed, giving her a quizzical look, “Pardon?”

“You guys didn’t kiss?” she repeated.

I sucked my bottom lip in and shook my head, trying to hold back the blush. Although I had expected it a few times, I was happy that we didn’t kiss. I wanted to start off slowly, so that I couldn’t handle the situation, as I wanted it to. I didn’t want it to be a mess of heat and passion and end up getting my heart broken just as quickly as it started off.

“Wow, that’s disappointing,” she muttered.

“It was the first time I-“ I stopped, blushing again, “it was like our first date, Jaz!”

“So? With the amount you talk about it, it makes you sound like you’re already sleeping with him,” she chuckled.

I could see her amusement with the shades my face fell into, and I spluttered for a retort, “Did you and Kennedy kiss?”

She smiled, “Wouldn’t you like to know.”

My jaw dropped as I looked at Jasmine who held a knowing smile, “You didn’t?”

She grinned wider.

“Jasmine!” I screeched, throwing a pillow at her. “You slut!”

“Hey! I am not a slut,” she argued, “we’ve already dated before, so it’s just like rekindling.”

“But you guys kissed cheeks back then!”

She laughed, “At least I got some action.”

Her response caught me off guard, and rather than try and redeem myself further, I let my jaw hang and I stared at her helplessly. Jasmine tossed the pillow back at me and I took the opportunity to bury my searing face in it. I didn’t know if I could possibly be even more embarrassed than I was at this moment. Jasmine and I had never really talked about our experiences with men - well, about Jasmine’s experiences with men. But at the mention of it, I suddenly felt all flustered. After all, I was very inexperienced.

“Don’t worry,” Jasmine laughed, moving from the chair to the bed where I tried to hide myself. “It’s not like you’re going to be knocking boots with him anytime soon.”

“Jasmine,” I groaned, “you’re not making this any easier.”

She laughed and pulled the pillow away from my face, “Girl, you’ve got to get over this. You’re seeing someone now. You need to be educated.”

“I think we both took health class, Jaz,” I muttered.

She laughed loudly, dropping down onto her side; “Boys aren’t exactly the hardest sex to please. Whether it’s attention, food, or a little TLC.”

“Can we not have this talk?” I asked hopefully.

“I am offering you my knowledge on being intimate with the opposite sex.”

I groaned loudly for effect, trying to convey how utterly uncomfortable this was making me. I had always known that between Jasmine and I, boys was her best subject. I had always known that behind closed doors, Jasmine knew a thing or two. But it’s not like I preferred to dwell on my best friend’s sex life.

“All right,” she threw her arm in the air, “if you don’t want it, then I won’t share it.”

“Thank you!”

“But,” she added strongly, “you will come back asking for advice.”

“I don’t think so.”

Jasmine sat up, “Kay? We have been best friend’s since the ice age. You’ll come back.”

“Whatever you say,” I muttered, rolling away from her.

I trailed my gaze towards the clock on her bedside table, slowly turning my head to grasp the time. I was sitting up by the time I realised that my mother was going to have paced a hole in the floor by now.

“Damn,” I muttered, moving towards the door, “I have to get home.”

“Convenient, hm?”

I shot her an unimpressed look, “If you want to deal with my mom, be my guest.”

“Call me later, okay? I need someone to hold my hand through biology,” she made a motion towards her school bag which was tucked into the corner of her room.

I rolled my eyes and continued out the door, throwing a wave over my shoulder. I crept down the stairs, careful not to hit the broken floorboard at the base of them, and then slid out the front door. It was well after ten, and well after the time my mother expected me home.

Normally, when I arrived home late, she would sit me down and go off about how worried she was about me. Despite living in such a small town that getting kidnapped or mugged was out of the question, she still pressed each topic of criminal activity that I could be the victim of. A lot of the time, my mother never made much sense. If there was something to worry about, regardless of the statistics, she would worry about it.

I ran home, careful to avoid the patches of ice littering the streets, as I practised my speech in my head. Perhaps I should just forget the speech, and steal over one of the ice patches? An injury would suit me far better than trying to explain how I lost track of time. But maybe then she would deem the streets of Forks as dangerous, and I would never be able to leave the house. Even though she knew I was at Jasmine’s, I had to be in some form of danger.

As I approached the walkway, I slowed to a stop to catch my breath. The light in the living room was on, and through the crack in the curtains I could see my father sitting in his recliner. I smiled reflexively, watching, as he turned towards the place I expected my mother to be. I could imagine her staring fixated on the front door, waiting for me to step inside. As I arrived closer to the front door, their conversation began to escalate in volume. The only time my mother ever raised her voice was when she went off the deep end. I paused, listening, but I couldn’t make out any coherent words.

Maybe I could slip through the door unnoticed? Sometimes she got so immersed in her lecture that she forgot time and place altogether. I turned the knob and opened the door slowly, listening carefully to the tones of their voices.

“Denise, calm down. The neighbours will hear you,” I heard my father say sternly.

“No! I will not calm down! You’re sitting here, as if you don’t care what happens to our little girl!”

Of course, her favourite topic of discussion, I thought.

“She’s not a little girl anymore, you have to realise this. It’s time for her to make her own choices, and you need to put some trust in her.”

“She should have called by now, Ed. It’s not a far walk from Jasmine’s, she could have-“

“Have what? Been hit by a car? Kidnapped? Mugged?” he laughed sourly. “Denise, we live in a town where you can’t even scratch your ass without someone else knowing. I’m sure she’s just being a teenager and having fun.”

There was a pause, and I thought for a moment they heard me eavesdropping at the front door.

“Maybe she’s doing drugs,” she whispered, almost as if she hadn’t heard my father at all.

“Drugs? Denise, did you not hear what I just said? You need to stop this, or you’re going to push her away.”

“Ed, don’t you dare say that to me!”

“Denise-“

“Don’t! I don’t want to hear it!”

I felt it wise to intervene before the argument got too out of hand, and I opened the door noisily, closing it loudly behind me. Although I appreciated my dad sticking up for me, I wasn’t going to let him take all of the heat.

“Kayla? Is that you?” my mother rushed out of the living room.

“Who else would it be?”

The look on her face was torn between anger and worry, “Where have you been?”

“Jasmine’s, just like I said I would be,” I sighed, moving towards the hall. “I had to help her with Biology – well, I still need to help her with Biology. I’ll be in my room if you need me.”

“Oh no, you’re not getting off that easy!” she laughed, her hands on her hips.

“I’m not allowed to go do homework?” I asked, looking over my shoulder.

“Now don’t get smart with me, young lad-“

“Denise, in here.”

She had her finger poised in the air, as if ready to spend the next hour lecturing me on punctuality. But something in his tone made her drop her hand, her lecture, and turn back into the room, “Don’t think this is over young lady.”

Of course it wasn’t, it never was.