He closes his eyes. “I know little about her besides what I’ve told you.”
“But I thought you guys were friends?”
“We are—were,” he said. “But not on a deeper level.”
“So just superficial.”
“Yeah,” he replies. “I feel guilty I never even tried. We’ve had poignant conversations, but those are few. Most of our chats don’t go deeper than surface level.”
“Why didn’t you try?”
He shrugs. “Our social circle is different. Friendships don’t hold the same weight like in other friend groups.”
“So vice versa, then? Alexa may not have known you beyond the superficial?”
“That’s likely.”
“Ah, the struggles of the popular and self-absorbed.”
“Judgy much?”
I frown. He’s right. This topic triggers me. Maybe because I’m speaking from personal experience. I remember how horrible they were to anyone outside their circle. They’re no different from each other, I guess. “How does it feel at the top?”
“Spectacular view, but the high altitude is brutal.”
“So, why stay?”
“I think the question is.” He pauses and turns to me. “Why did I climb the social ladder in the first place?”
“I didn’t ask you to do that.”
“You left me no choice. They, at least, wanted me to join them, unlike someone I know who tossed me aside like a pile of garbage.”
“Wow, this got ugly pretty quickly.”
“Yeah, so are we gonna go there today?” he asks, crossing his arms. “Because I’m ready.”
“Nope.” I gather my leftover lunch and put them back in the container. Our camaraderie has reached its quota for the day. As I stand, Julian places his hand on my arm.
“Look, sorry. I didn’t mean to get nasty. I guess I’m still trying to get used to you.”
My eyes soften, and I give him a weak smile. “Me too.” Then I sigh. “We should head back.”
He nods. Then he pushes off the grass and stands in front of me. “You like the color blue. Your first concert was Justin Bieber’s, Never Say Never, but you tell people it was Rihanna. Your favorite book is ‘A Separate Peace.’ You cried while watching ‘Inside Out.’ And on your 13th birthday you told your mom you were going to watch ‘Cinderella’ but you snuck in to watch ‘Magic Mike XXL.’”
My eyes widen. Then I laugh. “Thanks for calling me out, Jules.”
“For what it’s worth, Joy, my relationship with my current friends doesn’t compare to what we had. And I agree. Friendships should be at that level.”
I meet him eye-to-eye. “It’s lonely at the top, isn’t it?”
“Very.”
I avert his gaze. “It’s lonely at the bottom, too.” Then, I turn around and walk away from him.
Without you.
Chapter 33
Josephine
Wake up! Wake up! Wake up!
Suddenly, a slender arm wraps around me, and I flail to free myself, but my captor holds me even tighter.
“Honey! It’s me. Wake up, baby!”
My eyes pop open, and I find myself under the glare of my overhead light. I’m sitting up on my bed and drenched in sweat. Aunty Helen hugs me as I sag under the weight of my own stricken body.
“Are you ok?” She wipes the perspiration off my forehead. “You screamed, so I came running.”
My heart beats against my chest, but after two seconds, it returns to my normal heart rate. “I was screaming?” That can’t be good. Though my parents extended their trip, I only have a week to handle this. I can’t be howling every night.
“Yes, sweetheart. Bad dream?”
That’s an understatement, but I nodded. When she turns my head to meet her gaze, she searches my face. “Honey, the circles under your eyes are getting darker. You haven’t been sleeping well, have you?”
She understands what this means in terms of my mother’s paranoia, and how it’ll affect my near future. I can’t lie to her, but I don’t want her to worry. “I’m just adjusting to this new arrangement with school and everything. It’s affecting my sleep, you know how I am. But no worries, I’ll adjust and return to my normal routine in no time.”
She looks at me, still worried, but after a few reassuring words, she calms herself. After a quick forehead kiss, she lets me go back to bed, and she returns to her room. I lay with my eyes wide open, fully aware that sleep is no longer a choice..
Ping!
What the hell? Who’s texting me at midnight?
I check my phone.
Fartface: Night terrors?
My heart races as I read Julian’s text. I guess he heard my scream.
Me: Yeah. It sucks.
Fartface: I guess it’s back again, huh?
Me: Yup
I see the bubble as he texts. Then it disappears. But it reappears as if he can’t decide if he wants to go ahead with it. I become nervous as I wait with bated breath. Finally, I receive his message.
Fartface: Come over.
Chapter 34
Julian
I’m in my room, pacing. I can’t believe I asked her to come to my house.
She took awhile returning my text. I could imagine her looking at her phone, scowling. But she responded with questions to clarify what I meant.
Yes, Godzilla Breath, I asked you to come and sleep over.
I don’t know what possessed me to ask her. It must be that blood-curdling scream and my propensity to go caveman on her. I knew she had one of her night terrors. As soon as she screamed, I had a flashback of those nights when she made her way to my house whenever she had terrible nightmares. I felt for her, and I couldn’t help but offer the only intervention that had worked when she was a child — her sleeping next to me.
I know this solution is problematic. We were kids and now we’re teenagers, not to mention, there’s the issue with Bianca, but I can’t help myself with Jo. My ties with her are too strong. We experience supernatural occurrences together, for God’s sake. When she sees, I feel. It’s hard to fight that psychic connection.
Ping!
I check my text.
Godzilla Breath: I’m outside.
But I set my moral dilemma aside because she’s here, and after a sharp intake of breath, I leave to meet her. When I pass the mirror, I notice my boxers and my state of undress. I spin around to grab the closest things next to me: a black muscle shirt with large armholes past my rib cage and grey sweatpants. I shrug and wear them because it’s better than nothing.
When I reach the door, I pause for a moment, but I shake my head and open it. Jo stands on the front porch with her wild hair shining under the moonlight. She wears a gray hooded sweatshirt and matching sweatpants. Her blanket is over her shoulder, and she’s clutching her body pillow.
“Is this inappropriate?” she asks, foregoing the awkward pleasantries.
Apparently, she’s thinking of propriety, too. But as I walked to meet her, I came up with a rationale for this strange arrangement, and I’ll take full responsibility for whatever consequences that comes from this half-baked idea.
“Hell, yeah, it’s inappropriate.” I admit it because it’s true, and now she’s groaning. “But,” I add. “I’m doing you a solid. Those raccoon eyes aren’t fooling anybody. Your mom will drag you to the psych ward faster than you can say, hell no. So, for the sake of you staying away from that shithole, I’m offering my services.” Then, I stretch my arms wide to present myself. “Use me.”
I grin at her to erase her worried look, but it doesn’t work.
“You have a girlfriend, though.” Then she bites her lip and adds, “this is a bad idea.”
“Relax,” I said, rolling my eyes. “It’s not like we plan on having sex.” I notice her blush, and I fight not to let my dirty mind go there. Ok, maybe this idea isn’t good. But I take a deep breath and push that thought aside. The girl needs sleep. She low-key resembles an undertaker with her gaunt ch
eeks and her dark undereye circles. “We’re not even gonna make out—to your disappointment, I’m sure. So, no worries.”
Now it’s her turn to give me the eye roll. “Fine. As long as we know our boundaries.”
“Oh, the boundaries are there. It’s just a matter of whether you can control yourself from crossing that line.” I wiggle my eyebrows for emphasis.
She makes a face at me. “Ok, relax, buddy. No one’s crossing any lines here and if you do, I’m putting you in a choke hold.”
I laugh. “The violence is unnecessary, but since we agree, come on in.” I open the door wider to allow her to enter the house. She scans the dark foyer from the front porch, and I’m willing to bet she’s contemplating if she’ll regret this in the morning. I make a big display of looking at my wristwatch. “Any day now, sweetheart. Hopefully, before I turn 90.”
She narrows her eyes at me in irritation, but she moves towards the entry. I clap her in the back as soon as she steps inside my home. “Atta girl.”
“Shut up, already. You’re so irky,” she responds.
I chuckle. Meanwhile, I watch her navigate the house in the dark, beeline up the stairs, and enter the first door near the landing. She walks automatically, proving that she has done this many times before. I smile as I find her familiarity with my home deeply endearing.
When I join her, she’s in the middle of my room gaping. I chuckle as she stares wide-eyed at the walls, covered in posters of Marvel comic characters and my sketches. “What? Nothing much has changed.”
“Clearly,” she said. “That’s what’s astonishing about it.”
“How so?”
She says nothing, but she walks to the farthest corner and looks at my collection of old sketches. Her eyes twinkle as she turns to me. “You still have this?”
She points to a stack of drawings hanging on a hook on the wall, bound by twine. The cover is a sketch of her as a girl with black frizzy hair, a reptilian body and fire breathing out of her mouth. She’s accompanied by a comic version of me characterized as a tall, gangly blonde boy in a cape wearing a brown body suit with gas coming out of its butt. It’s entitled, “The Adventures of Fartface and Godzilla Breath.” This was our very own comic book we used to work on every month. We never finished it because our friendship ended before we could complete it.
“Yeah, why not?” I respond with a shrug as I avoid her gaze. I couldn’t make myself trash it, no matter how consumed I was with anger for the pain she had inflicted. It chronicled our adventures, and I guess I never could bring myself to throw away that part of my life.
She smiles at me, which makes my heart pound, so I turn away and walk to my desk.
“Do your friends know about your artistic ability?”
“Nope.” I pluck my wire-rimmed glasses from my pile of books and wear it. “They’re not privy to that side of me. Plus, they’ll never understand.”
“I notice you have no new art.”
I avert my gaze because the last time I sketched was three years ago—the day before we were separated for the summer. “I’m not into it anymore.”
I put on my retainer and turn around to face her. Her eyes widen, suddenly, but she laughs after a beat. She hasn’t laughed genuinely with me since we started pseudo-hanging out with each other. “What’s so funny?”
“Your glasses… and your retainer,” she said with a smile. “Actually, your marvel posters, too, and your sketches. That your room looks like how it did three years ago,” she continues. “Behind the pretty face and all those muscles, you’re still a big-ass dork, aren’t you?”
I scowl, pretending she affronted me. “Speak for yourself, loner.”
She snorts and howls. But I laugh with her. Jo is the only person who had ever entered my lair. Not even Bianca or Brandon. If I had given them the opportunity, it would shock them. But they will never see it. My bedroom is a sanctuary that allows me to celebrate my dorkiness, and it never asks me to apologize. And yet, even with my intense need to protect my private, geeky world, I allow her in it. In fact, at this very moment, I’m convinced she belongs here.
I must’ve been staring for a while because she clears her throat and turns away. But she shrugs and walks to my bed. “For what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re still a dweeb — even if only in this room. You seem actually human.”
I laugh. “Thanks? I can’t decide whether you’re complimenting me or insulting me.”
“Both.” She chuckles as she rests on my mattress and as soon as she settles in, she stifles a yawn.
I stare at her again while she sits on the edge of the bed. Seven years ago, she had done the same. A little girl with enormous eyes, declaring my bed as her own. Now, she’s almost eighteen, a beautiful woman, claiming it the same way. I take a deep breath and turn away.
“Uh, these night terrors,” I said, trying to distract myself. “They’re usually paired up with a recurring nightmare, aren’t they?”
Funny how we never discussed it, even though we dealt with it throughout our friendship. As far as I was concerned, she’d sneak in, we cuddled and we’d have the most restful sleep ever. I guess with kids the why doesn’t matter as long as it’s being handled. Ahh, the simplicity of life.
She leans against the wall and pulls her knees up to her chest. “It varies. But you’re right. It’s usually connected to a recurring dream.”
“What was your dream this time?”
“Uh, well, it’s been me running through the forest. Then suddenly, someone is on top of me, choking me.” She cringes as she relieves it. “I’m fighting for my life, but just before I take my last breath, I wake up.”
Damn.
“But before that, I see a white flower and then I’m awake, sweating, panicking or in tonight’s case, screaming.”
“That really sucks.”
“Yeah, it does, which is why I’m so afraid to sleep because most likely, I’ll fall right back to it.”
I wish I can hug her, but she’ll freak out if I try, so I continue to stand awkwardly in front of her. Finally, I look at my watch. It’s one in the morning, and it’s time to tackle the sleeping arrangement. “So, uh, we should probably try to get some sleep.”
She nods and looks at the wide space around her. My mom has since changed my twin bed to a king to accommodate my size. She wipes her hands on her thighs and then scoots back towards the wall. She’s nervous, and I can’t blame her, as this scenario is about to get awkward. Thank goodness I no longer have the twin or else she’ll end up on top of me. I heat as the image flashed in my head. Ok, get a grip, dickhead.
She lays in bed and gets underneath her blanket, pulling the sheet to her chin. She stares up at the ceiling and exhales.
“Are you sure you’re gonna be ok with this?” I check in one more time. “Because I’m about to join you.”
She takes another breath and nods. “Are you?”
“Well, it was my idea. So…. yeah.”
“Just don’t strip your clothes because that would be awkward.”
The Night Orchid Page 19
