Reinvent Love

“John!” I ran into his room and flipped his ceiling lights on and off repeatedly.

“You are going to give me a seizure, woman!” John yelled, chucking a pillow at me.

“Get up, we’re gonna be late!”

“Go grab breakfast and get in my car. I’ll be right down,” John sighed, rolling out of bed in nothing but the jeans he wore yesterday.

I grabbed our bagels out of the toaster, hastily spreading cream cheese and jalapeno jelly on John’s and putting peanut butter and jelly on mine. Then I went outside to his car, tossing my backpack in the backseat. John and I tried to switch driving on and off, but we were usually late, so John drove more than I did because he could speed without getting caught. I don’t know how.

John strolled out of the house still slipping one of his baseball style t-shirts on over his head. “You didn’t even, like, shower?” I asked as he opened my door for me, disgusted by my twin’s lack of hygiene.

“You didn’t even, like, wear make up today?” John retaliated, starting the car.

I gasped and looked at myself in the mirror. He was right. “Shit! John, stop the car.”

“Nope,” he said with a satisfied smirk, speeding away from our house. We lived a good fifteen minutes away from school, but you could count on John to safely cut that time in half. And he did. We parked on campus at eight, which gave us fifteen minutes to get to our lockers and get to class.

“And I thought you said we were gonna be late,” John sighed, taking his bagel from me. “Just the way I like it,” he said with approval after taking a bite. “Thanks, Jazz.”

“I can’t believe I didn’t wear makeup today,” I whined, pinching my cheeks to try and get blood in them so I didn’t look so pale and dead.

“Shut up and get out of my car, Jazz. You’re gorgeous,” John said through a mouthful of bagel. We walked to our lockers and then, surprisingly enough, he walked me to class. That was new for him, but he probably just felt bad for all the things he said the other day.

School was spent mostly talking about spring break and whining about how it was way too short. All my friends noticed how different I looked without make up, though. They weren’t mean about it, but they were…shocked, to say the least. I couldn’t show my face in the cafeteria. I went outside to the courtyard, only to remember I didn’t pack a lunch for myself this morning. Ah, fuckery.

“You forgot to pack a lunch this morning,” John stated the obvious, pushing the door open with his bony hip because he was carrying a Panera Bread bag in one hand and some Arizona Teas in the other. He sat on the table with me, feet propped up on the seat like I did and handed me the bag before putting the tea down on the table.

“Mmm, thanks…How’d you get to Panera and back so fast?” I asked, opening up my sandwich and taking a bite out of it.

“Well, you know me and my driving. And I skipped gym to get it, because... ya know... it's gym,” John said with a shrug as he started eating his potato chips. Eating lunch together was a little awkward, sadly enough. I can’t remember the last time John and I spent this much time together while outside of Jekyll. “Why aren’t you in the cafeteria with your friends?”

“Uh…everyone was staring at me because I don’t have makeup on,” I admitted with a nervous laugh, gnawing on my straw – a nervous habit. John stared at me as he finished his Arizona tea and when he did he chucked the can at my head. “Ow! What the fuck, John!”

“You’re not ugly, dammit. You don’t need makeup to be pretty. Makeup is pretty, but you’re effortlessly pretty, alright, Jazz?” John said firmly, patting my head. “And not all girls can be effortlessly pretty.” I nodded and focused on my food again, not really listening to what he said anymore. That pissed John off even more, but what-fucking-ever.

“What time do you get off tennis practice?”

“Four thirty. How about your baseball?”

“Five, sorry. We have a game this week, so…yeah…”

“It’s fine,” I said with a shrug, chugging my Arizona Fruit Punch when I glanced at my watch. “Thanks for lunch…See you later, John,” I told him, already walking back into the building just as the bell rang. The rest of the day was a blur for me. I always got sleepy when I was really full. I slept through quite a few of my afternoon classes, but at least that way I was ready and energized for tennis practice that afternoon.

After our usual run, we started playing each other for fun. I was playing doubles with another senior on the team. Practice was easy and pretty fun today, for once. We finished at four thirty on the dot, so I just trotted over to John’s car. I dumped my bags into the trunk and then I walked over to the baseball field to watch them practice because the parking lot was emptying rather quickly.

I sat on the first row of bleachers, pretty close to the dugout. I was just playing a game on John’s iPod (The Moron Test, because I liked to beat John’s scores) when a scuffle broke out on the field. Frowning, I took out my headphones and looked around for the source of the fight…which was John, surprisingly. Consequently, he had to stay behind after practice to run suicides.

“John, it’s like five thirty now,” I whined as I got to my feet when he finally grabbed his stuff and started walking towards me. “What did you do?”

“Nothing; hold this, would you?” John tossed his bat and mitt into my hands and I caught them, albeit clumsily. He stormed off angrily, and I had to run to keep up with his stride.

“John? What happened?” I asked as he tossed his duffel bag in the trunk of his car.

“The guys were just being immature, like usual…” John trailed off as we got into the car together. John ripped off his baseball jersey, leaving him in his usual sleeveless Underarmor. “Damn, Jazz, could your shorts be any shorter?” he scoffed, poking my thigh.

“Yes, actually.” I slapped his hands away and crossed my legs at the knees. I took up too much space... “Why? Did they say something about me?” John started driving, that scowl permanently etched onto his lovely face. It didn’t suit him. I reached over to massage the back of his neck with one of my hands. “John, come on. Tell me.”

“They were just talking shit, Jazz,” John sighed, leaning back slightly so I could massage him better. “And I figured I oughta set the record straight…I mean, you do have a boyfriend and all, so…”

I nodded and pulled away from him. “Thanks, John.” Oddly, enough – that wasn't quite what I wanted, or expected to hear from him. I figured he would have said something along the lines of, “They were talking about you inappropriately and I made them shut the fuck up because I’m your brother and I care about you.”

The boyfriend excuse worked well enough, though. Damn, speaking of boyfriend…I really needed to talk to Dylan…