Her smile
Talking
Chapter 2: Talking
Tuesday 14th April 2009
“When a woman is talking to you, listen to what she says with her eyes.”
—Victor Hugo
6.15 a.m.
The next morning, I felt the effect of not getting enough sleep. And God, it was not a nice feeling.
I was unwilling to open my eyes, yet I had to. Groggy with sleep, I got out of bed. I shivered as my feet came in contact with the cold floor. Jeez! Why was it so cold? I shook myself. Come on. Need to get ready for school.
That's all I needed to tell myself.
School, where Charlotte would be. Waiting for me? Who knew. Come on now, Billie. Activate, get moving. Now where are those slippers? Ah ha! Found 'em. Under the bed. How'd they get there? Ugh. Never mind. School. Eat. Get dressed. Brush hair and teeth. Shoes on, grab coat and bag. Run for the bus. Don't want to be late. Try to be early. Maybe, just maybe, I could see her.
Before class. Before too many people arrive. And see us.
*
7.15 a.m.
I spied a lone seat near the middle of the bus. Then: shock. My blue eyes met gray ones, just as I started walking.
I stopped, someone behind collided with me. “Sorry,” I sputtered out. How did she bring out this shyness in me? I took a seat next to her and she smiled that smile of hers. That oh so stunning smile of hers.
*
7.20 a.m.
The bus stopped in front of the school. Our bodies brushed lightly as we got off the bus. My heart jumped up and stayed lodged in my throat, beating its rhythm faster than usual.
*
7.30 a.m.
In Algebra, I kept on stealing glances at Charlotte, enjoying her beauty. Yet my feet kept on tapping the floor, my mind wandered. I wanted lunchtime now.
A time when I knew I stood a chance of talking to Charlotte, in peace; no disturbances. Flirt, get to know her. Find out more about her. She seemed so very kind, upbeat, confident. But I felt there was more to her than that.
*
8.30 a.m.
The bell rang. Finally. But I had no time to talk to her, partly because I needed to get to Geography, and partly because Charlotte got swept away by a small group of people, who were probably going to the same class as her.
*
8.35-9.35 a.m.
In Geography, I played with my ponytail, twirling it. When was the bell going to ring?
*
9.40-10.40 a.m.
Biology was easier. I enjoyed this. Let myself get taken away by the lesson.
*
10.45 a.m.
French was a little harder. Just one hour left.
“Mademoiselle Brookes, que faites-vous ?” the teacher asked. Miss Brookes, what are you doing?
I was distracted by the view on the quad. “Rien, madame.” Nothing, miss. Thinking about Charlotte, Madame.
*
11.45 a.m.
Yes! The moment the bell rang, and that I'd noted the homework, I jumped out of my chair, walked quickly to my locker, stuffed my bag in it, remembering just in time to take my cafeteria card. I slammed my locker door shut and found my way to the long line of people waiting for lunch.
Finally, I had my tray laden with food and spotted her red head of curls. She was seated at a table, alone. Yes! Just my luck. Smiling, I walked over. My smile dipped a bit as I noticed Gwen and Laura sitting with Charlotte. Not alone. “Hey,” I said, hoping that they'd leave.
“Billie! Hi.” She smiled after saying that.
Oh God. Wow. Keep your face together, Billie. Don't let her know about your racing heart and your electrified nerves.
*
11.50 a.m.
Gwen and Laura didn't leave. Charlotte took matters into her own hands. I thanked her in my thoughts.
“Um, I really don't want to sound rude, but would you mind changi— No. Wait. That's really impolite of me to ask. We'll change tables. It's just I've never been the new student until now. And I'd prefer being able to talk with Billie and ask her questions, one on one. Do you mind?”
“No, not at all. Go ahead,” Gwen said.
Charlotte got up and together we found a table. Once more, lucky me. A lone table. No one but us.
I gulped, a slight dizziness overcoming me.
“I have to be honest. Normally, I'm very outgoing, but...” Who knew it'd be this hard to admit something? “You seem to bring out this shyness in me.”
I was tapping my long nails on the table. Charlotte placed her hand on mine, to stop the noise. I felt my stomach tighten. What was she going to say, or do? I never knew what to expect with her.
“Well... You seem to bring out this confidence in me.”
The rest of the lunchtime we talked. A lot.
About our hobbies: we both like reading, I like swimming and she likes writing; about our likes: we both like listening to music, I like storms and she likes sunshine; and our dislikes: we both dislike the color army green, I dislike bees and she dislikes peas.
*
12.20 p.m.
The bell surprised us by ringing. Reluctantly, both of us got up, and left that table, that conversation.
“What class do you have next?” she asked.
“English,” I replied. “You?”
“History. Well... Afterwards, we'll see each other in gym, right?”
“Yeah,” I said perking up at the thought.
Our trays disposed of the correct way, we each headed off to our lockers and classes. “Hey!” I said, as she started walking away.
“Yes?”
“Do you like cats?”
“I love cats.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
“Just wondering. Bye.”
“See you later,” I heard her say, as I started walking away.
I looked over my shoulder and saw her smiling. I returned the smile, feeling some sort of wonderful happiness taking over me. I let it invade me. English class had never been better.
*
1.30-2.30 p.m.
Gym was very enjoyable, between volleyball and Charlotte.
I noted that she had a killer serve, for someone so tiny, fragile-looking. Afterwards, when we changed back into our day clothes (my eyes tempted to wander...), I noticed her hands were very red and raw. Far too many serves.
My gym clothes put away, and school bag on my shoulder, I made for the door.
“Hey, Billie,” Charlotte called out to me. She couldn't seem to contain a smile. Her smile.
I beamed. “Hey.” Something happened right then. My heart sped up, my breath stopped dead in my throat, and those oh so known butterflies began flying around and doing loop-the-loops in my stomach. This was much more than mere happiness. This was bliss.
I couldn't quite grasp just how she made me feel this way, all I knew was that she did. I wondered, did she feel this way too?
But that didn't matter, no. Questions could be answered later. Charlotte's casual approach towards me had to be dealt with then. Not later. She was so close to me, all of a sudden. Her bare arm brushed against mine.
Her touch melted me, sunk into my pores, spread through my veins like electricity. My blood boiled with love for her. I couldn't believe how much this one little touch of hers could affect me. Dizziness overwhelmed me, overtook me and overrode my system.
*
2.40 p.m.
Both of us ran.
Ran until we were out of the gym locker room. Ran until we were out of the hallways. Ran until we were out of the school. Ran until we were out of sight of people.
Ran until we were alone. Ran until we could speak. And more, once words ran out.
*
2.42 p.m.
Out of breath, we were finally alone. In a small park. If we'd walked it'd have taken five minutes.
*
5.20. p.m.
“What's this?” she asked. She stopped kissing my neck to ask that.
“What's what?”
“This scar, on the right side of your neck.” She touched the scar with her hand as she said it.
I took her hand in mine. She had small hands, dainty and feminine. Long, slender fingers with beautiful nails, nail plates very pink and the tips very white. Very soft skin.
“Billie?” she said, amused and smiling.
“Huh?”
“The scar?”
“Oh, right. I was ten. And I was climbing up a tree, in a friend's garden. A branch scratched my neck real bad.” As I said this, I looked into her eyes, smiling.
Her hand came up to my cheek, “And this scar?”
“A year ago I tripped and fell. A small piece of glass was on the floor. I was lucky it wasn't my eye that came in contact with it.”
“Any other scars?” she asked, arching one of her red eyebrows.
“Just one.” I smiled. “On my left ankle. Two years ago, when I was thirteen, I tripped. The corner of some piece of furniture was sticking out and I didn't see it.”
“I don't have any scars; perfect unblemished skin.” She said it like it was a bad thing.
“Your skin is pretty like that, unblemished. Innocent.”
“I'm not.”
“I never said you were innocent.” I raised one eyebrow and grinned.
*
5.30 p.m.
Charlotte's phone buzzed, and reminded us about the real world. She frowned. “My mother.” Her eyes widened. “Shit! It's 5.30”
Had it really been that long? Was it possible that we simply lost track of time?
“I have to go home.” Have to, not want to. Thank God.
“Do you really?” I whined.
“Yes, but I don't want to.”
“I don't want you to go, either.” What I really meant: I don't want you to go, ever.
“Come on, we'll walk home together.”
“Where do you live?”
*
5.45 p.m.
Just as we turned into her street, she stopped walking, wrapped her arms around me, looked up into my eyes. “My mother knows, but my dad doesn't. I don't,”—she paused, hesitated—“quite know how he'd react...” She didn't let me say anything.
Her lips were on mine and I stopped breathing as I felt an electric current of sorts raise the hairs on my skin. My arms found their way to the small of her back and I started to feel as like my skin was butterfly-fragile, and if anyone but her touched my skin it would crumble, turn to dust. Finally we parted.
“Your mom's gonna be worried, you should get going...” Not that I wanted her to.
She leaned her head on my shoulder. “You're beautiful, Billie.” I smiled and kissed the top of her fire-red curly-haired head.
“You're gorgeous; stunning.”
She lifted her head, looked into my eyes once again. “I don't know you well enough, but I'm quite sure I could love you one day... We need to talk some more. Lots more. I want you to tell me everything about yourself. And I want you to know all about me.”
My heart rose into my throat. No words allowed to pass through. I settled for a kiss. She'd understand the message: Same here.
“I guess I should go now...” She sighed. “See you tomorrow.”
I liked the fact that we started and ended the day together. Started together with Algebra and ended together with P.E. Perfect schedule. Just as I felt it should be. Together.
*
5.50 p.m.
I finally left and walked home.
*
6 p.m.
“Billie! Why didn't you call? The least you could have done was tell me you'd be late.”
“Sorry, Mom. I was out with a friend, Charlotte, she's new at school. I showed her around a bit.”
“Please, honey, try to at least send me a text, okay?”
“Huh uh,” I said as I sat down.
My mother looked at me.
“What?”
“Your cats. Could you refill their food and water bowls?”
“Okay.” Kisa and Vivian came running through the cat flap when I'd finished refilling their bowl.
“Wash your hands before eating,” Mom reminded me.
*
10.30 p.m.
I closed my book.
Having not had much sleep the previous night, and having been up since 6 a.m., my eyes were aching by 10 p.m. By 10.30, I had no choice but to close my book. I wanted to keep reading, especially since I'd stopped right in the middle of a chapter, but I simply couldn't.
Vivian and Kisa jumped onto my bed and settled by my feet. I hoped I wouldn't kick them by accident during the night...
Tuesday 14th April 2009
“When a woman is talking to you, listen to what she says with her eyes.”
—Victor Hugo
6.15 a.m.
The next morning, I felt the effect of not getting enough sleep. And God, it was not a nice feeling.
I was unwilling to open my eyes, yet I had to. Groggy with sleep, I got out of bed. I shivered as my feet came in contact with the cold floor. Jeez! Why was it so cold? I shook myself. Come on. Need to get ready for school.
That's all I needed to tell myself.
School, where Charlotte would be. Waiting for me? Who knew. Come on now, Billie. Activate, get moving. Now where are those slippers? Ah ha! Found 'em. Under the bed. How'd they get there? Ugh. Never mind. School. Eat. Get dressed. Brush hair and teeth. Shoes on, grab coat and bag. Run for the bus. Don't want to be late. Try to be early. Maybe, just maybe, I could see her.
Before class. Before too many people arrive. And see us.
*
7.15 a.m.
I spied a lone seat near the middle of the bus. Then: shock. My blue eyes met gray ones, just as I started walking.
I stopped, someone behind collided with me. “Sorry,” I sputtered out. How did she bring out this shyness in me? I took a seat next to her and she smiled that smile of hers. That oh so stunning smile of hers.
*
7.20 a.m.
The bus stopped in front of the school. Our bodies brushed lightly as we got off the bus. My heart jumped up and stayed lodged in my throat, beating its rhythm faster than usual.
*
7.30 a.m.
In Algebra, I kept on stealing glances at Charlotte, enjoying her beauty. Yet my feet kept on tapping the floor, my mind wandered. I wanted lunchtime now.
A time when I knew I stood a chance of talking to Charlotte, in peace; no disturbances. Flirt, get to know her. Find out more about her. She seemed so very kind, upbeat, confident. But I felt there was more to her than that.
*
8.30 a.m.
The bell rang. Finally. But I had no time to talk to her, partly because I needed to get to Geography, and partly because Charlotte got swept away by a small group of people, who were probably going to the same class as her.
*
8.35-9.35 a.m.
In Geography, I played with my ponytail, twirling it. When was the bell going to ring?
*
9.40-10.40 a.m.
Biology was easier. I enjoyed this. Let myself get taken away by the lesson.
*
10.45 a.m.
French was a little harder. Just one hour left.
“Mademoiselle Brookes, que faites-vous ?” the teacher asked. Miss Brookes, what are you doing?
I was distracted by the view on the quad. “Rien, madame.” Nothing, miss. Thinking about Charlotte, Madame.
*
11.45 a.m.
Yes! The moment the bell rang, and that I'd noted the homework, I jumped out of my chair, walked quickly to my locker, stuffed my bag in it, remembering just in time to take my cafeteria card. I slammed my locker door shut and found my way to the long line of people waiting for lunch.
Finally, I had my tray laden with food and spotted her red head of curls. She was seated at a table, alone. Yes! Just my luck. Smiling, I walked over. My smile dipped a bit as I noticed Gwen and Laura sitting with Charlotte. Not alone. “Hey,” I said, hoping that they'd leave.
“Billie! Hi.” She smiled after saying that.
Oh God. Wow. Keep your face together, Billie. Don't let her know about your racing heart and your electrified nerves.
*
11.50 a.m.
Gwen and Laura didn't leave. Charlotte took matters into her own hands. I thanked her in my thoughts.
“Um, I really don't want to sound rude, but would you mind changi— No. Wait. That's really impolite of me to ask. We'll change tables. It's just I've never been the new student until now. And I'd prefer being able to talk with Billie and ask her questions, one on one. Do you mind?”
“No, not at all. Go ahead,” Gwen said.
Charlotte got up and together we found a table. Once more, lucky me. A lone table. No one but us.
I gulped, a slight dizziness overcoming me.
“I have to be honest. Normally, I'm very outgoing, but...” Who knew it'd be this hard to admit something? “You seem to bring out this shyness in me.”
I was tapping my long nails on the table. Charlotte placed her hand on mine, to stop the noise. I felt my stomach tighten. What was she going to say, or do? I never knew what to expect with her.
“Well... You seem to bring out this confidence in me.”
The rest of the lunchtime we talked. A lot.
About our hobbies: we both like reading, I like swimming and she likes writing; about our likes: we both like listening to music, I like storms and she likes sunshine; and our dislikes: we both dislike the color army green, I dislike bees and she dislikes peas.
*
12.20 p.m.
The bell surprised us by ringing. Reluctantly, both of us got up, and left that table, that conversation.
“What class do you have next?” she asked.
“English,” I replied. “You?”
“History. Well... Afterwards, we'll see each other in gym, right?”
“Yeah,” I said perking up at the thought.
Our trays disposed of the correct way, we each headed off to our lockers and classes. “Hey!” I said, as she started walking away.
“Yes?”
“Do you like cats?”
“I love cats.”
“Good.”
“Why?”
“Just wondering. Bye.”
“See you later,” I heard her say, as I started walking away.
I looked over my shoulder and saw her smiling. I returned the smile, feeling some sort of wonderful happiness taking over me. I let it invade me. English class had never been better.
*
1.30-2.30 p.m.
Gym was very enjoyable, between volleyball and Charlotte.
I noted that she had a killer serve, for someone so tiny, fragile-looking. Afterwards, when we changed back into our day clothes (my eyes tempted to wander...), I noticed her hands were very red and raw. Far too many serves.
My gym clothes put away, and school bag on my shoulder, I made for the door.
“Hey, Billie,” Charlotte called out to me. She couldn't seem to contain a smile. Her smile.
I beamed. “Hey.” Something happened right then. My heart sped up, my breath stopped dead in my throat, and those oh so known butterflies began flying around and doing loop-the-loops in my stomach. This was much more than mere happiness. This was bliss.
I couldn't quite grasp just how she made me feel this way, all I knew was that she did. I wondered, did she feel this way too?
But that didn't matter, no. Questions could be answered later. Charlotte's casual approach towards me had to be dealt with then. Not later. She was so close to me, all of a sudden. Her bare arm brushed against mine.
Her touch melted me, sunk into my pores, spread through my veins like electricity. My blood boiled with love for her. I couldn't believe how much this one little touch of hers could affect me. Dizziness overwhelmed me, overtook me and overrode my system.
*
2.40 p.m.
Both of us ran.
Ran until we were out of the gym locker room. Ran until we were out of the hallways. Ran until we were out of the school. Ran until we were out of sight of people.
Ran until we were alone. Ran until we could speak. And more, once words ran out.
*
2.42 p.m.
Out of breath, we were finally alone. In a small park. If we'd walked it'd have taken five minutes.
*
5.20. p.m.
“What's this?” she asked. She stopped kissing my neck to ask that.
“What's what?”
“This scar, on the right side of your neck.” She touched the scar with her hand as she said it.
I took her hand in mine. She had small hands, dainty and feminine. Long, slender fingers with beautiful nails, nail plates very pink and the tips very white. Very soft skin.
“Billie?” she said, amused and smiling.
“Huh?”
“The scar?”
“Oh, right. I was ten. And I was climbing up a tree, in a friend's garden. A branch scratched my neck real bad.” As I said this, I looked into her eyes, smiling.
Her hand came up to my cheek, “And this scar?”
“A year ago I tripped and fell. A small piece of glass was on the floor. I was lucky it wasn't my eye that came in contact with it.”
“Any other scars?” she asked, arching one of her red eyebrows.
“Just one.” I smiled. “On my left ankle. Two years ago, when I was thirteen, I tripped. The corner of some piece of furniture was sticking out and I didn't see it.”
“I don't have any scars; perfect unblemished skin.” She said it like it was a bad thing.
“Your skin is pretty like that, unblemished. Innocent.”
“I'm not.”
“I never said you were innocent.” I raised one eyebrow and grinned.
*
5.30 p.m.
Charlotte's phone buzzed, and reminded us about the real world. She frowned. “My mother.” Her eyes widened. “Shit! It's 5.30”
Had it really been that long? Was it possible that we simply lost track of time?
“I have to go home.” Have to, not want to. Thank God.
“Do you really?” I whined.
“Yes, but I don't want to.”
“I don't want you to go, either.” What I really meant: I don't want you to go, ever.
“Come on, we'll walk home together.”
“Where do you live?”
*
5.45 p.m.
Just as we turned into her street, she stopped walking, wrapped her arms around me, looked up into my eyes. “My mother knows, but my dad doesn't. I don't,”—she paused, hesitated—“quite know how he'd react...” She didn't let me say anything.
Her lips were on mine and I stopped breathing as I felt an electric current of sorts raise the hairs on my skin. My arms found their way to the small of her back and I started to feel as like my skin was butterfly-fragile, and if anyone but her touched my skin it would crumble, turn to dust. Finally we parted.
“Your mom's gonna be worried, you should get going...” Not that I wanted her to.
She leaned her head on my shoulder. “You're beautiful, Billie.” I smiled and kissed the top of her fire-red curly-haired head.
“You're gorgeous; stunning.”
She lifted her head, looked into my eyes once again. “I don't know you well enough, but I'm quite sure I could love you one day... We need to talk some more. Lots more. I want you to tell me everything about yourself. And I want you to know all about me.”
My heart rose into my throat. No words allowed to pass through. I settled for a kiss. She'd understand the message: Same here.
“I guess I should go now...” She sighed. “See you tomorrow.”
I liked the fact that we started and ended the day together. Started together with Algebra and ended together with P.E. Perfect schedule. Just as I felt it should be. Together.
*
5.50 p.m.
I finally left and walked home.
*
6 p.m.
“Billie! Why didn't you call? The least you could have done was tell me you'd be late.”
“Sorry, Mom. I was out with a friend, Charlotte, she's new at school. I showed her around a bit.”
“Please, honey, try to at least send me a text, okay?”
“Huh uh,” I said as I sat down.
My mother looked at me.
“What?”
“Your cats. Could you refill their food and water bowls?”
“Okay.” Kisa and Vivian came running through the cat flap when I'd finished refilling their bowl.
“Wash your hands before eating,” Mom reminded me.
*
10.30 p.m.
I closed my book.
Having not had much sleep the previous night, and having been up since 6 a.m., my eyes were aching by 10 p.m. By 10.30, I had no choice but to close my book. I wanted to keep reading, especially since I'd stopped right in the middle of a chapter, but I simply couldn't.
Vivian and Kisa jumped onto my bed and settled by my feet. I hoped I wouldn't kick them by accident during the night...