And She Made the Shape of My Heart With Her Hands

I was so confused and mixed up with my feelings right now, that I was seriously considering getting a diary or something. The idea sounded so fourth grade like, but at this point, I didn’t really give two hoots.

Another possible option besides a diary would be just a simple list. I could write down all the things I like about each boy and then go from there. Hey! I could always make a pro and con chart! Yeah! I could write down why it would be a good idea to choose this person, and then write down the negatives. It could work, right? Or at least help…

“Yo. It’s Pat,” the silver camera was close to his face. “I just thought that I’d give you guys another update while we were on this tour. Anyway, um, we’re on our way to Richmond, Virginia.”

Pat flipped his messy long hair as he talked, something that’d make not only every girl who saw this video swoon, but myself as well. He bit on his bottom lip a bit, making me want to crawl over to him and practically plant my lips to his. The thought made my stomach and heart have a funny feeling to it.

“By the way, our album’s still out in stores, so… Go buy it. It’s really awesome.” Pat paused and looked around the van quickly, his eyes touching everyone in it, including me. When our eyes met, I dropped my gaze shamefully. Pat furrowed his brow a little but shook it off as he started, “So, Garrett. Tell all our fans what we’re doing.”

Garrett looked up at the camera with a blank expression. “Um, well right now we’re sitting in this huge van as we drive to Richmond.”

“Oh, you make it sound so interesting,” Kennedy stated sarcastically.

“Well it is interesting!” Pat suddenly turned the camera to view me sitting a couple feet away from him. “What do you think?”

I stared at Pat and the small shiny object that had become all too familiar to my eyes. “I don’t know. Yes, things are very interesting here but you just can’t realize it this second by only looking around.”

I noticed John and Kennedy’s gaze fall on me. I saw the slight smirk crossing John’s features and then a hint of confusion on Kennedy’s.

Pat turned the camera back to himself. “Well she’s right, of course.”

“Yeah, you have no idea,” I muttered very, very, quietly to myself. I’m positive that John heard me though, for he snickered quietly from in front of me.

“We’re going to Wendy’s,” Tim declared.

I slightly groaned inwardly. Wendy’s claimed they weren’t fast-food, but I claimed that it was nothing but pure shit. That’s not counting their Frosties. Those things were amazing.

We got out of the van and all entered through the Virginian Wendy’s here on the highway. There really wasn’t much around this place besides a gas station and a Wawa.

Everyone shuffled towards the register where a black woman waited with a visor and vest on. Her giant gold hoops read ‘Monica’ within them, as did her white worn-out nametag. She attempted to smile a bit. “May I take your order?”

“Uh, yeah. We’ll have two #3’s, one #2, three #6’s, one #5 without sauce, and…” Tim turned his questioning gaze to me.

I wasn’t too hungry and I was sort of tired of fast food. Plus, I hated Wendy’s. “I want a chocolate Frostie.”

Monica’s dark fingers dabbed a bunch of buttons and such on the tan and germ-infested cash register. She looked up again and said in boredom, “Your total’s $15.96.”

Tim handed her a twenty-dollar bill that was crumbly and slightly ripped. Monica shoved it in the register while pulling out our change, then handing it to Tim.

He thanked her as she bent over and got out a stack of red cups with the Wendy’s logo and corny, (as well as false), slogan on the front. She slapped them on the brown plastic tray as she walked to the back.

“You can go sit down now, Cara.”

I slightly jumped at Tim’s sudden voice entering my thoughts. “Heh. I guess I’m tired.”

I walked over to the table full of young boys I was with, only to have a cup be shoved in my face.

“What is this for? I didn’t get a soda,” I explained to Garrett.

“Yeah, I know. This is my cup.” I gave him a quizzical look. He smiled or smirked a little. “I want Pepsi please.” I narrowed my eyes slightly at him, but took the cup without a word anyway.

As I walked up to the row of different sodas and drinks, I noticed John O’Callaghan pressing his cup to the machine, only to have it spit out cubes of ice in the cup. I stood beside him, waiting until he was done.

John stepped aside. “It’s all yours, my lady.”

I sighed softly while smiling gratefully to him. I filled the cup up with ice for a couple of seconds, only to suddenly hear my retarded brother yell at me, “Hey, Cara! Not so much ice, okay?”

I rolled my eyes to myself, for my back was turned to the group. “He is so difficult,” I muttered as I dumped some of the ice out.

John chuckled a bit as he watched me. His soda was almost overflowing.

The silence between us was so unnatural and so unbearable that I couldn’t wait until Garrett’s damn soda was filled.

Of course it wasn’t that easy and painless.

“Cara, you’re not… mad at me, are you?”

I released some of my pressure off of the cup and soda button. My eyes flashed up to his face, taking in his questioning expression.

“No, John.” I brought the cup to the button once again as it filled slowly.

“Then what’s wrong? You’ve been seriously quiet since you and I-”

“Exactly.” As I looked for the proper fitting lid, my eyes flashed to John’s face. His pretty eyes were reflecting an emotion that was clearly hurt.

My expression and words softened. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it to come out like that.” I paused but then started explaining again when I saw he didn’t have anything to say. “I just feel so… confused, bad, awful, and a lot of other things right now.”

“Why?”

My face contorted up to the question. “John, you kissed me and it obviously doesn’t bother you that one of your friends already likes me, too! A-And then now here you are, asking me why I’m upset?” My breathing was a little faster as I was more alert now.

He shrugged. “Maybe I like you more.”

I turned back up to him as I slipped the thin lid on with a snap. “How would you know?”

He grinned a little too cockily for my taste. “So Pat likes you. So? Yes, you said you sort of like him too, but you also said that you like me as well.”

I shook my head back and forth in disbelief. “You don’t freaking understand, John! I like him a lot! I like him no more and no less than I like you, so get off your high horse there, and stop it!”

I quickly grabbed a white napkin as I wiped the outside of the cup. John stood there in shock and stared at me as I snatched a white straw from its holder, shoving it into the clear lid connecting to Garrett’s soda.

“And by the way,” I slightly hissed to John, “you’re not the only one I kissed either!” I stalked off back to the table where Garrett looked up at me and noticed the soda I was holding.

“Well it’s about time. I was about to send a Search and Rescue team to go find you!”

I rolled my eyes at Kennedy as I sat down next to Garrett. He nodded his head in agreement. “Yeah. And I’m practically done my food now!” He spoke with a mouthful of what I thought was a chewed up cheeseburger.

“Yeah, yeah. Chew with your mouth closed, Garrett,” I scolded. He immediately snapped his jaws closed as he realized he was eating like a caveman.

I heard him swallow in one big gulp, taking a sip of the Pepsi. “Oh, yeah. There’s your Frostie,” he reminded me, gesturing towards the cup sitting aside.

I picked up the red cold cup. It felt underweight. “Um, Garrett? Why does this feel lighter than it should be?” I held the cup up with my eyebrow raised slightly in accusation.

Garrett looked from the cup to me blankly. He then answered me in a monotone, “It was Kennedy.”

Kennedy nearly choked on the soda he was sipping at. He gasped a few times before blurting out, “What? Garrett, I’m not the only one! You did it, too!”

“Yeah, but you did it last, so it’s automatically your fault. Duh,” my brother said.

I sighed and rolled my eyes. “Whatever. There’s still at least half of it left, so it’s all good,” I soothed as I watched John sit down at the other end of the two tables put together. “Yep. It’s all good,” I repeated.

Isn’t it ironic how things actually aren’t at all good?