A Wise Girl

I never thought it would feel like this: drowning. They always said it would be peaceful like slowly falling asleep. It wasn’t. It was painful, stressing, tormenting, and eerily ironic to the point that my own salty tears added to the redundant amount of water that was already eating away at my life. Draining me, how ironic; drowning was draining me of life. It drained everything, my spirit, my wrongs and even the pressure. It was such a relief and yet, the pressure charged at every inch of your body, like chains dragging you down, entrapping you. I couldn’t help but wonder if this is what being caged was like; restricting and dethatched, filled with undeniable loneliness as you wait for your spirit to give up. It never did give up, did it? In the end it was your weak body that threw down the key into the pits of hell, leaving your soul to perish in that cage of pressure. I can’t explain how it felt. Your heart beats faster and you struggle, hope still guiding your actions, but as the steady acceleration of your heart beat soon becomes syncopated you set into panic: pure, senseless, heart shattering panic. It was like smooth fingers, cold and sleek against your skin were grabbing at you, pulling you down, wrapping around your throat, and slowly forcing its way into your lungs. They reached out prying your mouth open, silencing your pleas with the small ice daggers that shot down your throat, slowly lingering in your lungs, weighing you down like dead weight. But still you struggle against the sleek fingers of death, thinking of moments to comfort you in this time.

And then your heart skips a beat. Those summers of reading romances where the heroine discusses her heart skipping a beat in reaction to love, hoping that one day you get to feel that sensation. Roses, Jasmines and fresh lemonade on grass that tickles at you bare skin, the blades making slicing motions like murderous soldiers. Mother Nature’s soldiers sent to punish you. Thoughts flash through your head, anchoring you to reality, again: the irony. Anchoring, a concept forcing you to sink and maybe that’s what reality does to you, it makes you sink. But as the cold fingers manage to consume you; the cold torturous grip causes you to freeze, rendering you useless; your body giving up and allowing you to sink, to drain. 3 minutes: they say that’s how long it takes to drown. But as I look up at the ripples of the water, my eyes focus on what appears to be a foggy reflection watching me gasp for life, sending the relentless liquid fingers spiraling down into my lungs, stopping me from trying to reach for the face. But finally the fingers grasp at your ribs, pulling in until you’ve frozen. No longer will I be shedding deathly fingers from me eyes, but I lose all control and just begin to fall…

I stabbed at the egg in frustration mumbling some choice words about how much I hated the whole concept of American bacon. The spatula soon became covered in the egg yolk and without further delay I flipped the egg over and repeated the process with the four other eggs in the pan. Blaydon had just stood at the breakfast bar next to the stove top laughing at my hatred for Monday mornings which seemed to seep through resulting in me hating everything. His twin seemed to be more amused about the tension between his brother and I after e had stumbled into Blaydon’s room finding me wrapped up in his brother’s arms as he rubbed calming circles over my shoulder softly murmuring choice words of comfort into my ear. Hastily, I had got out of the warm and somewhat comforting bed and staggered my way to the kitchen grumbling about the inconvenience of it all and tugging quite aggressively at the hem of Blay’s shirt. I had greeted Mr. Jenkins with a polite wave before making my way into the kitchen to make us all breakfast. Part of me still wanted to rip Bran to shreds for waking me up at such a horrendous time, but I had no energy to do so and just sipped at my third mug of coffee for that morning. There was something wrongly addictive about the coffee that Blay had made, it tasted sweet and had this infused spice into it that I couldn’t quite place, I would be sure to ask him what he put in it to taste like that.

I looked up to Blay as he fondly smiled at me, taking the plate of pancakes from my hand as I made my way around the breakfast bar with the plate of eggs and bacon in one hand and a jug of orange juice in the other. Mr. Jenkins had told me that his wife was currently overseas in Malaysia studying some vaccine that had been discovered; although the man understood nothing of what he spoke simply reciting the words in a questioning tone. I glanced at Blay noting that the dark circles under his eyes had drastically reduced at that the flecks of gold in his eyes seemed more prominent. I reached out to run my index finger over the area that used to be plagued with darkness and, essentially age, glad that he was getting somewhat better. Shrugging it off and teeing it down to the fact that he had finally received the hours of sleep he needed. Brandon snorted as he watched the exchange with amused eyes, causing his brother to roll his eyes and slump down into the chair as his father beamed up at him. I sat down next to him, smiling at Mr. Jenkins as he looked down at the food as though it was pure gold. Glancing up at the counter I noticed I had left my mug there, contemplating if it was worth getting up to retrieve. An arm darted out in front of me placing something next to me on the table; I looked down to see a mug of coffee. I looked at Blay greatfully as he chuckled, reaching over to grab the jug of orange juice. Shrugging, I grasped Blay’s abandoned mug and brought it to my lips and sipping at it as I watched the Jenkins boys devour the food I had placed on the table. Smiling to myself at the similarity between the three I placed two pancakes on my plate before drowning them in maple syrup and strawberries. I brought the food to my mouth chewing happily as the three conversed between each other.

“I like Tuesday, son. I will not hesitate to castrate you if you screw this one up.” Mr. Jenkins piped up casually before stuffing a piece of bacon in his mouth. I proceeded to choke on the strawberry in my mouth as Blaydon patted my back wearily.

“It’s really not like that, Mr. Jenkins.” I mumbled when I had finally managed to clear my throat, taking another gulp of the coffee.

“Oh please, Tuesday! You’re going to be my daughter in law; I think it’s safe to call me Chris.” He responded energetically as he straightened up in his seat, grinning at me in one of those familiar lopsided mischievous grins that Bran seemed to throw around constantly. He had wrinkles in the corner of his eyes that highlighted how happy the man is constantly with eyes that shone with sincerity and kindness. Mr Jenkins was far from a bland man, tall and handsome much like his children, successfully earning him the title of the school's recognised DILF. I'd caught girls gushing over him multiple times at school fundraisers and sporting events. Mr Jenkins always dressed well, clad in his suit and tie, his shoes always shiny and laced; although his appearance was much too formal for his personality. Knowing the man, I would have assumed he was a tradie rather than a lawyer seeing that the man was far too laid back to have his head buried in constitutional law clauses. Mr. Jenkins had been trying to get me to call him by his first name from the moment I met him, but stubbornly I refused, believing that it was rude and that as an elder – and incredibly kind, none the less – man, Mr. Jenkins should in fact remain as Mr. Jenkins.

“No thank you, Mr. Jenkins.” I responded dismissively as I smiled at him politely before returning to my food, not before noticing the almost deathly look that Blaydon was sending his father, who seemed very amused with himself as he grinned at his embarrassed son. I smiled to myself, loving the relationship the family had. They clearly loved each other, but they also enjoyed taunting each other to the point of near aggression. Brandon had no issue with finding amusement in our discomfort, laughing throughout the entire exchange.

We ate quite peacefully after that and after being thanked repeatedly by their father for breakfast, the twins and I cleared up breakfast and proceeded to return to preparing for school. I had dived into the shower, quickly washing my underwear by hand and scrubbing at the grimy feel on my body before stepping out and blow drying my hair and my underwear - quite uncomfortably seeing as I was wearing them whilst doing so - before hastily throwing them on and stepping out into Blay’s room to find the jeans I had forgotten on his table. I threw his shirt in the hamper in the side of the room, sniffing at my skin as I realized I now smelt just like Blay only sweeter, my honey soap still managing to linger in my skin from the years of use. I shrugged the matter off as I pulled on the high-waisted jeans and grabbing another one of Blay’s t-shirts before tucking it in and grumbling at the curled red heap of a mess that sat on top of my head, successfully making me look like a cave woman. I hastily swiped my finger through my hair in a pitiful attempt to tame it. I sat down on the edge of the bed, tugging on the shoes that I had discarded in the corner of the room last night. Standing up, I glanced at myself in the small mirror, rolling the sleeves of the over sized borrowed shirt until it was at a fashionable length. The key shaped birthmark on my shoulder was just barely peeking out from under the sleeves of the shirt, looking like a speck of dirt on my tanned skin.

“Sporting my Led Zeppelin shirt better than I do sure is a knock to my fragile ego, Tee.” Blay teased as he glided into the room, making eye contact with me through the mirror, shoving one of his beanies on my head to somewhat control the crazy red hair that sprung around my face. I smiled at him gratefully before I turned around to touch his arm in an awkward gesture of thanks. His arm was warm, in fact he was always warm, the boy seemed to be immune to the cold, which was odd seeing that he looked quite foreign as though he came from a some what exotic place, like his mother. He understood and nodded at me, smiling down not needing to say anything as he tapped my hand in acceptance before grabbing my wrist and dragging me out of the house as I shouted a quick goodbye to his father who beamed at me in return, telling me that he was lucky to be blessed with such a great cook for a daughter-in-law and then proceeding to duck out of range from the football that Blay threw at his head.

Once outside and fully engulfed in the crisp morning air, Blay thrust his leather jacket into my arms instructing me to put it on as he reached over his bike to grab the helmet and gently slide it over my head, tapping it twice before straddling the motorbike. He gestured for me to get on and I quickly threw my leg over the bike, sitting behind him and lightly placing a hand on either side of his waist. I watched him smirk through the mirror tugging at my hands, forcing me to wrap my arms around him until my chest was pressed against his muscled back as I grumbled in discomfort before he started up his bike and sped away in the direction of the school. From my house the school we attended was a simple ten minutes away at the longest, but on busy mornings it took at least half an hour to arrive there from the Jenkins’ house…

“Do you have my keys here?” I asked Elliot as I shrugged out of Blaydon’s jacket, giving him a small smile before returning it to him before he tugged his arms through it, fitting into it rather than it hanging loosely off him in the way it did with me. I shot my attention back to Elliot who was scowling at Blaydon as he silently handed me the keys.

“Yeah, didn’t think you’d be up for giving me a ride home.” He muttered hotly as his eyes flicked between Blaydon and myself.

“Yeah, no it’s fine. Really.” I assured as I flung the keys into the small tote that I always took everywhere with me, instantly dismissing his spiteful tone. “Blay gave me a ride here. Do you need a lift home?” I asked off handedly as I stated to sift through the items in the tote hoping to find my lip balm.

“No don’t worry about it; I’m just going to the gym.” His voice was almost accusing as though it was my fault that he, for some reason, was more hormonal than a twelve year old girl at a Twilight cast meet and greet.

“Okay then,” I dismissed as my fingers wrapped around the small tube I was looking for, happily distributing the honey flavoured lib balm onto my dry lips. “I’ll see you free period then, guys.” I shot over my shoulder as I walked away hoping to be able to get to my locker before the bell for first period rang.

As I walked through the halls people called greetings at me, I smiled back and politely answered the questions the flung at me about my weekend with short simple answers as I continued to walk towards the east wing of the school.

An arm was draped over my shoulder, pulling me into the side of someone’s chest and when I flung my eyes up, I was faced with Gabe who grinned down at me, guiding us through the halls to our lockers. His dark eyes had a glint of amusement in them as his dark hair tossed around in close sync with his movements. The boy was barely two inches taller than me, but gave off an aura of maturity that no other guy his age possessed. That is most likely why Gabe was the designated big brother of the group. He was also immensely gentle and refused to hurt anything with a face, as he describes all living things. Oddly enough, he still eats meat. With his gentle nature I wouldn't be surprised had he been a vegan.

“So how was last night?” He teased as he wagged an eyebrow suggestively at me, smirking down as he nudged me with his jean clad hip. My arms flailed out and managed to slap a near buy ninth grader causing me to call out multiple apologies as we continued to my locker.

Once we turned the corner and I refocused on the conversation, I snorted at his blatant suggestion. “Bands and Mario Cart.” I summed up honestly, Gabe would have probably figured it out the minute he saw us together, anyway.

“Oh?” Was his genius response, I was sure it took generations of his family to muster up that stunner.

Despite the uselessness of the response, I made a small noise of agreement in the back of my throat before stepping forward to spin the combination into my locker then turning to look at him. “I have no idea what kind of girl you think I am Gabe, but I don’t do brothers.” I teased as I stuck my tongue out at him in a childish gesture that ensured him that I was not in the slightest way offended, although anyone that knew me already knew that I wouldn’t be. He smiled, removing my books from my grip and cradling them to his chest as he turned on his heel and waited for me to step beside him.

“Fair enough, Atlanta. You ready to get your ass kicked by Mrs. Helms?”