by Kamille Rose
When he turned around to face me, I gave him an incredulous look. "Seriously? You threw a flower at her??"
He shrugged nonchalantly. "It was the closest thing in my reach."
"That's not the point, Joseph."
"Then tell me Sienna, why do you have such a feisty look on your face?"
"Olvídalo," (Forget it.) I said, rolling my eyes.
"Let's head up then," he said with a mocking grin.
⋅. ✯ .⋅
Although Alex had been behind Joseph and me on the stairs, she was the first in his room and made herself at home on his bed with a huge flop. She did this almost every time she came over my house, so I couldn't say I was surprised.
What did surprise me though, was entering Joseph's room myself. I was shocked. Not that I had a preconceived opinion about what a teenage boy's room looked like, which I totally did. But it was mainly because Joseph was dressed from head to toe in black, while his room was the color of an unclouded sky, a deep cerulean blue and all around, were clusters of photos.
Screaming and popping off the walls were postcards detailed with vibrant sunsets, while the rest of the hangings were made up of maps, newspaper clippings and tons more photos of what looked like popular tourist attractions. Photographer. Maybe this is one of the many layers Alex told me he had.
One photo that caught my eye in particular was a candid shot of him standing in front of the one and only gorgeous Eiffel Tower with his arm draped around an equally gorgeous girl. They looked so happy.
"As always, Lex has made herself comfy," Joseph said in mock annoyance, bringing me back from the land of the lost.
"It's something you get used to, haha.”
"I'd tell you to sit on the edge of the bed, but you probably already know that may get karate kicked off, so you can settle over in my desk chair if you'd like," he said, nodding across the room.
"Yeah, sure, thank you.”
I took one last look at Alex on the bed before seating myself at the desk.
"No problem. I'll be right back, okay?"
“Sure.”
Alex had quickly fallen asleep, meaning I couldn't talk to her, so I made myself useful and went over my paper while Joseph ran out. Writing was the easy part. I had finished that within a couple hours at home, but I only had about three days until I needed to present to the class, and I had no idea how I'd do it.
"I see you've started without me,"
Joseph reappeared, pulling up a chair beside me at his desk. I didn’t even realize he’d come back already.
"Just giving everything a look over, although I'm sure it's perfect. Well, not perfect, but I've been writing for a while, so I know a thing or two about constructing a good paper,” I told him with a confident shrug.
“You know, in grade five I actually wrote my first- I'm sorry... I’m rambling.”
“Don’t be. I see you’re pretty passionate about writing and I like that you aren't afraid to talk about it.”
"Yeah. I mean, I've been writing since I was able to string words together and make a sentence on my own.”
I chuckled to myself, remembering how eager I’d be to get home from school every day in 5th grade and write in my glittery notebook. Short stories were my favorite. As I got older I leaned more towards journaling. It helped me cope with my emotions, no matter what it was I felt.
"That's awesome. It makes me even more excited to read your paper. Bet it's one hell of a story."
I sat anxiously tapping my foot as Joseph took his time going over my work. “So, what do you think?”
"Well, there’s no doubt in my mind that you'll get an A. Your paper is great, and it's got a real personal touch. It honestly feels like I know you a little better."
I knew he was only being nice but hearing him speak about my writing like that made me feel really good.
"Thank you, Joseph. That means more than you know," I said, dipping my head, hoping my cheeks weren't turning rosy.
"All we have to do now is shake you loose of those nerves," he said, assertively clapping his hands together.
"How do you suppose we do that?"
Joseph scooted closer and gave me a pensive look as if he were analyzing my every tick. "Well, you seem tense."
I instantly straightened my back.
"How about you do the opposite of that," he said, pointing out my posture. "Close your eyes and let your shoulders fall."
I did as he told me and closed my eyes, letting them adjust to the darkness.
"Breathe in slowly. Then breathe out..."
His voice was low and gentle and had a rasp to it. I could have listened to him instructing me through breathing exercises all day.
"And open. Better?" he asked, holding a thumbs up.
"Better.”
"See, the key is to relax. Don't think too much about the presentation or the grade you might get on it. Just talk. Talk to me."
"Okay," I said, letting out a breath. After setting my paper back on the desk, I turned to Joseph and began delivering my presentation.
"Books have always intrigued me. To me, one of the greatest adventures is being able to dive into the story of someone else's life, and the best part is that you can never be too sure of what to expect."
Joseph raised his hand as if we were in a classroom, and I stopped.
"Can I say something?"
"Of course, anything you think will help.”
"Okay, well, I could barely hear what you were saying and it's a shame because what you've written is good. The class won't know that because you're whispering."
"I'm not even surprised you said that. Once I had to repeat my order to the cashier at McDonald's three times."
He chuckled. "Wow, that's both sad and funny."
"Yeah, I know," I said, tucking a lock of hair behind my ear.
"Oh, and one more thing. Make sure you pause when you need to, because right now you sound a bit too rehearsed."
"Breathe, project, and pause. Got it."
I ran through the beginning of my presentation a few more times. Apparently, it was enough for Joseph to be able to mouth my words as I spoke them.
"The sixth time is definitely a charm, Sienna," he said, smiling to himself.
I silently cheered.
"You seem more confident than you were at the start, which you should be!"
"All thanks to you, Mr. Vasquez." Our hands met in an enthusiastic high-five. “How would you say American Literature has impacted your life?”
Joseph looked at me, a smirk growing slowly on his face. “Well, what I wrote in my paper is that books allow me to get away from the madness of the real world. Oftentimes they inspire me to create my own.”
My eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You write?”
“Nah, a lot of daydreaming.”
We shared a small laugh to ourselves as we tidied up his desk.
“But I’ll admit, the real world hasn’t been so bad as of late.”
The way he looked at me made me wonder what he meant exactly, but we had just met after all. I didn’t want to read too much into his words. Overthinking never did me any good. Maybe being at Ridgeway and reuniting with Alex was a nice change for him.
"On another note, I can't believe Alex has slept this entire time."
I shrugged. "Eh, probably used all of her energy scrolling through Instagram.”
"Tragic." I followed Joseph's eyes that traveled over to the bed where Alex lay a mess, limbs sprawled about.
"I wouldn't be surprised if that were the real reason she passed out. But what I am surprised at is how long I've managed to go without food. Are you hungry at all?"
The look of genuine concern on his face was the purest thing I'd ever witnessed. I couldn’t help but smile.
"I could definitely eat," I replied.
"Alright, let's go empty the fridge."
⋅. ✯ .⋅
Joseph and I made ourselves a couple of sandwiches. I don't know if it was the hunger, but a sandwich never
tasted so good. There was a hefty pile of salami, provolone cheese, and crispy Portuguese bread sitting in my stomach. I let out a satisfied sigh and tossed my napkin. When I looked over at Joseph, he'd already been staring at me.
"What? D-do I have mayo on my face?" My hands flew to my mouth and wiped frantically.
"No, no, you just eat more than I expected."
"I don't really know how to take that,” I said, cocking my head to the side.
"I don't mean to offend you in any way. I'm saying I’m just glad you enjoy your food and aren't afraid to eat in front of me."
I gave him a quizzical look. "Who'd be afraid of eating in front of other people?"
"You'd be surprised," Joseph said, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Well, maybe I'm comfortable around you," I said, tipping my head up at him.
"Are you really?" he asked, seemingly shocked by my reply.
"Yeah, I guess I am. Which is surprising for me, considering I'm embarrassingly shy if you hadn’t noticed."
"You think it's embarrassing, but I think it's cute.”
I scoffed. "A major difference it must be from the blonde and brassy little things that come your way, yeah?"
What the hell was I saying? I didn’t know anything about him or the kind of girls he might've been interested in... and it’s not like I cared about the latter.
"Are you stereotyping me?" He clutched his heart, feigning hurt.
I shrugged. "Eh."
"I thought you were a sweet girl."
I rolled my eyes. "I am sweet, and I've tried opening up, but it's hard sometimes."
"Hm. Sounds like a challenge,” he said, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.
"What does?"
"Seems to me that you need a little courage.”
"I have courage."
Hands still in his pockets, he walked toward me. "When I look at you, I see a butterfly, but she's currently still trapped in her chrysalis."
His eyes quickly scanned the length of my body and suddenly my camisole and jeans felt all too thin.
I knit my brows. "Okay?"
"Which means I'm going to bust you out of it!"
"I think the lack of food in your system is making you loopy," I said, lightly jabbing the side of his head with my index finger. I then stepped back, placing my hands on the counter behind me.
"I've had plenty to eat.”
"Oh yeah? And how much did you have in between the time you were staring me down?"
Where my sudden boldness came from, I don’t know. He looked at me in disbelief, but quickly recomposed his cool exterior.
"What can I say? You look much more appetizing than a pile of cold cuts."
I should have known he'd have a quick-witted comeback. With a flick of my wrist, I waved him off and speed-walked out of the kitchen, not stopping until I reached his bedroom. I didn't have to be present to see the self-righteous grin that was etched on his face.
In Joseph's room, Alex was still passed out, but I heard my phone going off. I sped over to the desk to find fourteen missed calls and thirty-six messages from my mother. The most recent messages, frightening.
Mom
5:00 p.m./ If you aren't home by the time the streetlights are on, I will hunt you down.
5:45 p.m./ Alright, that's it. Send me this boy's address right now. I'm coming to get you.
6:20 p.m./ SIENNA MARICIELA MARTINEZ ANSWER THE PHONE RIGHT NOW!
Every muscle in my body tensed with fear.
"Dammit, dammit, dammit." I swept up my papers from the desk and scrambled to find my backpack.
"What's wrong??" Joseph asked, entering the room.
"What's wrong is that I was supposed to text my mom when we first arrived here. HOURS AGO!"
"Are you even breathing? Relax."
"No entiendes (you don't understand), Joseph My mom probably sent out a search party for me."
"I can —"
"I'll never be able to leave my house again."
"Sienna.”
“I have to go!"
Without a backward glance, I darted from Joseph's room and down the staircase. I found my shoes and bag by the door and made a run for it.
JOSEPH
"Way to make an exit..."
I walked back to my desk and sat in the chair Sienna was in, mashing my cheeks. From the corner of my eye, I saw a paper caught underneath the wheel and plucked it from the floor. She had doodled her name a couple times in a bright pink ink and underneath was a flower. I didn’t know what type, but it was pretty. After I folded the little sheet with her drawing, I put it in the drawer of my desk.
"Where's Sienna and how long was I out?"
"Jesus Chri- when'd you wake up?!" Alex’s voice filled the room and I almost gave myself whiplash from how fast I turned around.
"Um, when I heard a door slam, but you didn't answer my- question," she said in between a yawn. When my heart calmed down, I joined her on the bed. Looking at her, I couldn’t help but laugh. She looked like a wild animal.
"Right... she bolted a few minutes ago. Does she normally freak out about running late?" I brought my hand to her head, but she swatted it away, laughing.
“I’m not your pet. But yeah, her mom can be intense. I wish I would have known she was leaving because I'd have gone with her," she said, laying her head on my shoulder.
“Do you think she’ll be in trouble?”
“She might get yelled at.”
And I felt like that would be all my fault. If I hadn’t kept her so long downstairs after we ate, she might’ve been able to avoid all this. But I just couldn’t help myself. Idiot.
“Emmanuel, I just saw Sienna leave. What happened?”
Turning my head toward the door of my bedroom, I saw my mom standing near it with an oven mitt in her hand.
“Oh, she had to head home,” I told her.
She frowned. “That’s too bad. I was hoping she’d get to try my apple tarts. Almost ready to pull a batch out of the oven. Maybe next time.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
SIENNA
In heeled boots and all, I ran home as fast as I could, hoping and praying my mom hadn't done anything drastic. But as I neared closer to my house, I could hear the loudness of blaring police car sirens. Coming up on the driveway, I saw my mom talking with an officer on our front porch.
"Mom, why are the police here? Are you okay? Is papa okay?!"
After finishing up with the officer, she made her way down the steps and looked at me with a deep frown on her face. She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose.
“Sienna, we're fine. I thought the absolute worst when you didn't reply to me. For all I know, you could've been kidnapped!”
"Mom, I told you I'd be working with Alex and a friend. It was totally unnecessary to have the authorities involved.”
"Watch your tone with me, y escucha bien!" (Listen well!) she snapped, causing me to flinch.
"There's no way an 18-year-old has a phone and doesn't check it. I was your age once, okay? I know what teens do nowadays and I want you to be safe, but it seems you can't follow simple instructions."
"Mom —"
"What happened tonight is a result of your carelessness.”
I don’t know what came over me. Any other day I'd have endured her berating me, but I couldn't stand it.
"You say the reason for all of this is because you want to keep me safe, but you don't trust me.” My hands were balled into fists by my side, anger coursing through my veins. “That's it! You don't trust me, but not once have I ever given you reason not to."
For the first time I wasn't afraid of how my mom would react. I’d been holding these feelings inside me for years and she was going to hear me.
"I do everything you ask of me; I-I mean, you keep me so busy that I barely have time to make any friends. But of course, the one time I slip up, the world is suddenly crashing down on you. That's not fair!” I shook my head, scowling. “I am constantly trying to be th
e perfect daughter and student, yet that still isn't good enough for you. Nothing ever is.”
As quick as my feet would carry me, I ran into the house and sank to the floor. There was a golf ball sized lump in my throat, threatening to choke me.
"Josie? - Oh, mi amor, what happened?"
My dad came through the entryway and knelt beside me. He was dressed in his scrubs with his bag over one shoulder, having just gotten home, but he quickly dropped his things and scooped me into his arms. That’s when I let the tears flow freely.
"I swear, Mom is impossible to please,” I muttered into his shoulder as he stroked my hair. "I broke the stupid curfew for the day because I got caught up after school. She got upset, but it escalated. She always makes me feel like crap!”
"Shhh. You are my daughter and that means you are the best as they come. I’m so lucky to have had the privilege to raise such a beautiful girl. You’re smart, so smart. You’re strong and you are important to me and your mother... I know she can be tough to deal with at times, but she loves you."
"But it's like I'm not allowed to have a life, Pa. I can’t breathe.”
“I’ll talk to her after she's cooled down,” he said with a warm smile.
"Te amo, Pa," (I love you, Dad.) I said, kissing his cheek.
"Te amo, chiquita. Tienes hambre?" (I love you, baby girl. Are you hungry?) he asked.
"Always,” I replied.
"Good, because tonight's menu is arepas. We can make ourselves a plate or five and talk about the rest of your day,” he said, extending a hand to help me off the floor.
I took it eagerly. "Sounds like a deal."
During dinner, I told my dad about my English presentation. I even told him about Joseph, which caused his eyebrows to shoot up above his hairline. “Sienna! Y-you met a boy?!” he asked me. His reaction was to be expected, considering I’d never talked to him about guys before. It was a fun conversation. Still, I felt pretty lousy and wanted to wash off the day.
When I dragged my full-bellied self up the stairs, I'd never felt luckier to have a private bathroom. It meant I was able to shower in peace without encountering anyone, in this case, my mom.
I quickly towel dried my hair, changed into a pair of comfy sweats, and shimmied under my warm blanket. Immediately after my head hit my soft pillow, I drifted off into a pleasantly deep sleep. I'd meet whatever punishment my mom had ruled out for me in the morning.
