Status: indirectly for billy, rest easy and fly high kid<3
Worlds Apart
Chapter Three: Me
September 8th, 2007
“Come on, don’t be a chicken,” Brant says, he sounds like he is joking, but I know that beneath this he is serious.
I glance around my small circle of friends nervously and bite my lip. It is getting late, school ended almost an hour ago, and I know my mom is probably wondering where I am. My sister is not even here; she stayed home sick. Well, now I feel sick, and I try to think of a way out of this.
“Relax,” I suddenly hear from behind me, and someone lays a hand awkwardly on my shoulder.
I turn and see Jason smiling at me. I am comforted, slightly, to see that he looks just as nervous as I feel. He is just as new to this as I am. Brant is the only one of us who claims to be a veteran, but I think he is not as experienced as he advertises. I find a small smile creeping over my own face, and I feel butterflies in my stomach at Jason’s minimal touch. God, he is cute.
“Alright,” I say, turning back to Brant. “Give it to me.”
A wide grin stretches across Brant’s face, knowing that since he finally convinced me he has everyone else too. He pushes himself away from the school wall he has been leaning on for the past half hour and reaches out to hand me the lit cigarette he has been smoking. I take it slowly, trying to hide the trembles that rack my hand.
“Don’t make fun of me,” I warn everyone, eyeing each of my friends one by one. Kayla and Aubrey are both staring at me apprehensively because they know when I am done they are up next. Zack is watching me trying to look disinterested. He is the only one out of all of us who refuses to try smoking. As seventh graders, we are all finally eligible to play school sports, but Zack’s the only one who is interested in that kind of thing. He has football tryouts in a half hour, after the coach finishes in a faculty meeting, and he says he does not want to screw up his tryout because of smoking. He is even risking a lot by being near us now, because if we are caught our school has a policy that if you are around someone smoking, you probably are too. It is ridiculous, but that is just the way it is.
Finally, my eyes fall on Jason. He looks impressed that I am the first that is willing to try the cigarette, and that fills me with a fresh wave of courage. I glance down at the cigarette resting between my fingers and take a deep breath to settle my nerves. The irony suddenly hits me. People actually do this to relax? I have never felt more stressed out in my life.
I cannot stall any longer without Brant calling me out. Without another glance at my friends, because I know that will only lead to more stalling, I lift the cigarette to my lips and take a drag. With my nerves, however, I breathe in too quickly, and end up choking on smoke. I feel like I cannot breathe for a split second and I start coughing violently. Someone takes the cigarette from me before I burn myself with it and someone else starts patting my back.
“Want some water?” Zack asks innocently.
He is clearly trying to not laugh at me as he holds out his water bottle. Once the coughs subside, I glance around at the rest of my friends and find that they are all stifling laughter, especially Brant.
“Oh fuck off,” I growl, grabbing the water bottle. “I’d like to see you guys try it.” I add pointedly to Kayla and Aubrey, who instantly sober.
Brant holds out the cigarette to them now, glancing between them to see who will go first. They glance at each other, trying to read who will cave, and eventually Kayla sighs and takes the cigarette. For the next twenty or so minutes we all take turns with the cigarette, and I am pleased to see that by the end I can take a drag without feeling like I am dying, until Zack has to leave to get ready for his tryout. It is almost four thirty now, and I know my mom is not going to be happy with me when I get home. We all say goodbye and wish Zack good luck before heading off in separate directions towards our own respective houses. The only people who remain together are Kayla and I because we live on the same block.
“That was cool,” I say off-handedly, hoping I sound as experienced as Brant.
Kayla glances up at me and nods quickly, but then bites her lip.
“Can I be honest?” she says.
“Of course,” I say, immediately losing my collected façade.
“I don’t think I really liked it…” her voice trails off and she looks away from me, focusing instead on the sidewalk beneath our feet. “I guess the only reason I did it was to impress Brant.” She blushes furiously.
Well, it looks like I was not the only one who did it to impress a boy. To Kayla’s utter horror I am sure, I laugh. I do not mean it to make fun of her; it is more a laugh of relief that I am not the only one that feels that way. Kayla will not look at me but I can see that her face has turned an even deeper shade of crimson than before.
“No, no!” I say quickly. “I’m not laughing at you! I just, I guess I feel the same way.” I try to explain to her.
This does not seem to make her feel any better, though. Her brow creases and she stops walking.
“You like Brant, too?” she demands.
I stop short and stare at her. Her question does not register with me for a moment, and then I realize she took my words the wrong way.
“Oh my God, no!” I cry out. Her face drops again, and I realize she thinks I am making fun of Brant. “Oh my God, not that way, Kay. There’s nothing wrong with Brant! I mean he’s really nice and sweet, I just don’t like him.” I trail off pathetically.
We stand in the middle of the sidewalk facing each other. Now our roles have reversed, because I am the one with the flushed face and Kayla has a suspicious grin stretching across her face.
“You like Jason,” she states.
I can feel my face flush even more. Kayla takes my silence as affirmation to her statement, and she is not wrong in thinking so.
“I knew it!” she shouts, jumping up and down and hitting my arm. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you liked Brant?” I shoot back. “Stop hitting me! It’s not that big of a deal.”
Kayla rolls her eyes but stops hitting me, instead linking her arm through mine as we start walking again.
“You know, we’d make the best looking couples in school,” she muses.
“There has to be a couple to begin with,” I point out, biting my lip. “I don’t think Jason likes me.”
Kayla snorts. “You’re stupid.”
I have nothing to say to this, and anyway we have reached Kayla’s house. We stop at the edge of her driveway to say goodbye, and suddenly I catch a waft of nicotine coming from Kayla as the wind picks up.
“Oh my God, Kay we smell like cigarettes!” I say in dismay. “My mom’s gonna kill me!”
“Relax, I have perfume in my bag somewhere,” she says calmly.
We take turns spraying each other all over with perfume, and I hope my mom will not question why I suddenly smell strongly of ‘Soft Sugar Plum.’ I thank her profusely and wave goodbye before hurrying off to my house down the block. When I reach it I see that even my dad has beat me home, and that almost never happens. I know I am in trouble now. As I take my walk up the driveway, I cannot help but feel like an inmate on death row. I quickly try to think up an excuse for my mom.
I open the door hesitantly. The TV is on in the living room and I can hear the crowd cheering at some sporting event. That would be dad. My sister’s music can be heard softly from our room upstairs, and my mom’s footsteps are wandering around the kitchen off to my right. I try to sneak upstairs before anyone can notice me but too late, my mom is calling my name as she enters the front hall.
“Did you just get home now?” she crosses her arms. “Where have you been?”
I smile at her, trying to look as innocent as possible. “Zack’s football tryouts were late today because the coach had a faculty meeting, so we all stayed after to help him get his homework done.” I say with a shrug. “All mine’s done too.”
My mom gives me a look and I know she is not convinced. But after a moment she seems to think better of arguing with me.
“Alright, well go check on your sister for me please,” she sighs before turning to go back into the kitchen.
I rush up to my room, relieved and shocked that I got away with it. Out of curiosity, I sniff the shoulder of my sweatshirt. It definitely still smells like cigarette smoke. I wonder if my mom noticed and just did not say anything, or if she is really just that oblivious to the world. Maybe I am a better liar than I thought.
Regardless, I have never felt more invincible in my entire life.
“Come on, don’t be a chicken,” Brant says, he sounds like he is joking, but I know that beneath this he is serious.
I glance around my small circle of friends nervously and bite my lip. It is getting late, school ended almost an hour ago, and I know my mom is probably wondering where I am. My sister is not even here; she stayed home sick. Well, now I feel sick, and I try to think of a way out of this.
“Relax,” I suddenly hear from behind me, and someone lays a hand awkwardly on my shoulder.
I turn and see Jason smiling at me. I am comforted, slightly, to see that he looks just as nervous as I feel. He is just as new to this as I am. Brant is the only one of us who claims to be a veteran, but I think he is not as experienced as he advertises. I find a small smile creeping over my own face, and I feel butterflies in my stomach at Jason’s minimal touch. God, he is cute.
“Alright,” I say, turning back to Brant. “Give it to me.”
A wide grin stretches across Brant’s face, knowing that since he finally convinced me he has everyone else too. He pushes himself away from the school wall he has been leaning on for the past half hour and reaches out to hand me the lit cigarette he has been smoking. I take it slowly, trying to hide the trembles that rack my hand.
“Don’t make fun of me,” I warn everyone, eyeing each of my friends one by one. Kayla and Aubrey are both staring at me apprehensively because they know when I am done they are up next. Zack is watching me trying to look disinterested. He is the only one out of all of us who refuses to try smoking. As seventh graders, we are all finally eligible to play school sports, but Zack’s the only one who is interested in that kind of thing. He has football tryouts in a half hour, after the coach finishes in a faculty meeting, and he says he does not want to screw up his tryout because of smoking. He is even risking a lot by being near us now, because if we are caught our school has a policy that if you are around someone smoking, you probably are too. It is ridiculous, but that is just the way it is.
Finally, my eyes fall on Jason. He looks impressed that I am the first that is willing to try the cigarette, and that fills me with a fresh wave of courage. I glance down at the cigarette resting between my fingers and take a deep breath to settle my nerves. The irony suddenly hits me. People actually do this to relax? I have never felt more stressed out in my life.
I cannot stall any longer without Brant calling me out. Without another glance at my friends, because I know that will only lead to more stalling, I lift the cigarette to my lips and take a drag. With my nerves, however, I breathe in too quickly, and end up choking on smoke. I feel like I cannot breathe for a split second and I start coughing violently. Someone takes the cigarette from me before I burn myself with it and someone else starts patting my back.
“Want some water?” Zack asks innocently.
He is clearly trying to not laugh at me as he holds out his water bottle. Once the coughs subside, I glance around at the rest of my friends and find that they are all stifling laughter, especially Brant.
“Oh fuck off,” I growl, grabbing the water bottle. “I’d like to see you guys try it.” I add pointedly to Kayla and Aubrey, who instantly sober.
Brant holds out the cigarette to them now, glancing between them to see who will go first. They glance at each other, trying to read who will cave, and eventually Kayla sighs and takes the cigarette. For the next twenty or so minutes we all take turns with the cigarette, and I am pleased to see that by the end I can take a drag without feeling like I am dying, until Zack has to leave to get ready for his tryout. It is almost four thirty now, and I know my mom is not going to be happy with me when I get home. We all say goodbye and wish Zack good luck before heading off in separate directions towards our own respective houses. The only people who remain together are Kayla and I because we live on the same block.
“That was cool,” I say off-handedly, hoping I sound as experienced as Brant.
Kayla glances up at me and nods quickly, but then bites her lip.
“Can I be honest?” she says.
“Of course,” I say, immediately losing my collected façade.
“I don’t think I really liked it…” her voice trails off and she looks away from me, focusing instead on the sidewalk beneath our feet. “I guess the only reason I did it was to impress Brant.” She blushes furiously.
Well, it looks like I was not the only one who did it to impress a boy. To Kayla’s utter horror I am sure, I laugh. I do not mean it to make fun of her; it is more a laugh of relief that I am not the only one that feels that way. Kayla will not look at me but I can see that her face has turned an even deeper shade of crimson than before.
“No, no!” I say quickly. “I’m not laughing at you! I just, I guess I feel the same way.” I try to explain to her.
This does not seem to make her feel any better, though. Her brow creases and she stops walking.
“You like Brant, too?” she demands.
I stop short and stare at her. Her question does not register with me for a moment, and then I realize she took my words the wrong way.
“Oh my God, no!” I cry out. Her face drops again, and I realize she thinks I am making fun of Brant. “Oh my God, not that way, Kay. There’s nothing wrong with Brant! I mean he’s really nice and sweet, I just don’t like him.” I trail off pathetically.
We stand in the middle of the sidewalk facing each other. Now our roles have reversed, because I am the one with the flushed face and Kayla has a suspicious grin stretching across her face.
“You like Jason,” she states.
I can feel my face flush even more. Kayla takes my silence as affirmation to her statement, and she is not wrong in thinking so.
“I knew it!” she shouts, jumping up and down and hitting my arm. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“Why didn’t you tell me you liked Brant?” I shoot back. “Stop hitting me! It’s not that big of a deal.”
Kayla rolls her eyes but stops hitting me, instead linking her arm through mine as we start walking again.
“You know, we’d make the best looking couples in school,” she muses.
“There has to be a couple to begin with,” I point out, biting my lip. “I don’t think Jason likes me.”
Kayla snorts. “You’re stupid.”
I have nothing to say to this, and anyway we have reached Kayla’s house. We stop at the edge of her driveway to say goodbye, and suddenly I catch a waft of nicotine coming from Kayla as the wind picks up.
“Oh my God, Kay we smell like cigarettes!” I say in dismay. “My mom’s gonna kill me!”
“Relax, I have perfume in my bag somewhere,” she says calmly.
We take turns spraying each other all over with perfume, and I hope my mom will not question why I suddenly smell strongly of ‘Soft Sugar Plum.’ I thank her profusely and wave goodbye before hurrying off to my house down the block. When I reach it I see that even my dad has beat me home, and that almost never happens. I know I am in trouble now. As I take my walk up the driveway, I cannot help but feel like an inmate on death row. I quickly try to think up an excuse for my mom.
I open the door hesitantly. The TV is on in the living room and I can hear the crowd cheering at some sporting event. That would be dad. My sister’s music can be heard softly from our room upstairs, and my mom’s footsteps are wandering around the kitchen off to my right. I try to sneak upstairs before anyone can notice me but too late, my mom is calling my name as she enters the front hall.
“Did you just get home now?” she crosses her arms. “Where have you been?”
I smile at her, trying to look as innocent as possible. “Zack’s football tryouts were late today because the coach had a faculty meeting, so we all stayed after to help him get his homework done.” I say with a shrug. “All mine’s done too.”
My mom gives me a look and I know she is not convinced. But after a moment she seems to think better of arguing with me.
“Alright, well go check on your sister for me please,” she sighs before turning to go back into the kitchen.
I rush up to my room, relieved and shocked that I got away with it. Out of curiosity, I sniff the shoulder of my sweatshirt. It definitely still smells like cigarette smoke. I wonder if my mom noticed and just did not say anything, or if she is really just that oblivious to the world. Maybe I am a better liar than I thought.
Regardless, I have never felt more invincible in my entire life.