Waters of Disillusion

"Nicolette!

"Hey, Nicolette!

"Wait, you're not dead or anything, are you?

"Oh shit, please don't be dead. Please don't-"

I finally open my eyes, about to give it to the fool who woke me up. "What the hell do you want?" The sun's too bright. I can hardly even squint at the male voice that was calling me. I feel groggy all over.

He sounds relieved when he speaks again and I just rub my eyes. "Oh, good. I was worried for a second there. I recognized your hair from over all the way over there, and I thought I'd swing by."

Benji. I know I told him we could hang out again, but in boy time, doesn't that mean like in three days? What could he possibly want when I just saw him last night?

I groan a very ladylike groan and stretch, sitting up. To be fair, I probably shouldn't sleep outside if I want to avoid attention. "Hi, Benjamin," I yawn. "What time 'sit?" I don't feel awake. My eyes are heavy and my throat is thick from sleep. Nicolette Leigh is not ready to face the world yet.

"It's a little after ten. You wanna get some breakfast or something?" Yes, Benji. As if I have money to spend on something as mundane as breakfast. I must have made a weird face-but really, I do that a lot- because he backtracks. "Or, I mean, we could get some coffee-" I hate coffee. It's the nastiest shit on the face of this earth. The smell is okay, but the taste makes me want to puke. "-or take a walk. Anything you want to do. If you want to, I mean. Don't worry about-"

"Benjamin," I say. Pam had me working til close. I'm snappy as hell and yes, it is that time of the month. "That all seems really nice'n all, but I'm sorry. I am tired as hell. Can I rain check ya?"

His face falls for a second, but he perks up almost instantly. "Sure, yeah. Sorry for bothering you. I'll uh, see you later, then?" I nod and collapse onto my fortress of sheets again. Call me cruel for rejecting a cute boy, sure, but my sleep is very important. It can't be much later, after a chorus of slamming doors and "hey"'s my neighbors exchange, when somebody lands on top of me. If that didn't give it away, it was the overwhelming aroma of strawberry.

"Get off'a me, Ty," I grumble.

"Come on, Nic! The sun is up, we're young, the whole day's ahead 'a us. We simply can't go wastin' it."

"I'm still mad at you, y'know."

"Yeah, yeah," is all he says. "Now stop bein' sucha lazy ass. Your ma left for work three hours ago, and she said if you're not up by noon she'll shoot ya."

"Well she don't have to find out, does she?" I say in the most threatening voice I can muster. I open my eyes to find him wearing that stupid hat turned around, but at least he's blocking the sun. "'Sides, it's Saturday, ain't it?"

"So?"

"Ain't this yours and Amanda Mae's day?"

"So?"

"Tyler."

"All right. She's off to some modelin' boot camp or somethin'. Won't be back for 'nother week or two." This makes me much happier than it should. He stands up and pulls me up with him. "So let's go!" I let him drag me across my lawn to his trailer."Stay right here," he tells me and disappears inside. I hear him moving about and lean against his rusting truck. He comes back out a second later. "Well hurry up, will ya?" he motions to the truck.

"Where are we even goin'?" I ask as I put the seat belt on.

"Don't worry 'bout that. Just sit there an' look pretty," he grins. I'm suddenly aware of how slobbish I must look; frizzy hair in a messy braid, loose tank top, and cotton shorts. I'm not even wearing shoes. I'm not even wearing a bra.

"I ain't even wearin' shoes, Ty," I tell him. I'm sure he already knows about the bra part, as he keeps shooting glances at my chest. We passed the last trailers of the park and the gravel crunching under the wheels has been replaced with dirt.

"You have a pair of flip flops under your seat," he says, without even looking at me. Sure enough, I reach under and pull out a pair of black sandals.

"How'd you-?"

"I've been thinkin' a lot 'bout this, and I'm jus' gonna come out and say it: I have never loved you. We have nothin' in common, and you're jus' weighin' me down. 'Sides, you're jus' plain ol' annoyin'."

I'm fourteen years old again, on my first roller coaster ride. My stomach isn't where stomachs are supposed to be anymore; it's fallen to the ground and my blood has turned to ice. Every curse word I know gets stuck on repeat in my head. Oh my God.

If that flat-out rejection wasn't enough, he doesn't even look at me. He turns right and keeps talking and I can almost hear my heart ripping in half. "I'll say I'm sorry, o' course. I mean, I've been datin' her for forever. We could still be friends if she wasn't sucha bitch. Why would- hey, you a'right?"

Amanda Mae. He's talking about Amanda Mae. Words can't even describe how relieved it feels. I don't think anyone has ever been this happy to know his words weren't meant for me. "Um, yeah," I scratch the back of my neck. "Jus' zonin' out again." I laugh once to make it seem like I'm joking, but the only sound that comes out is similar to what a whale makes before it's fed.

He gives me that oh-really? look. "Sure? You looked like you jus' found out I ran over your cat."

"You ran over my cat again?"