PART III

Chapter I

Bittersweet Sixteen

"Time just slips away from our grasp."

The three girls sighed.

"Mom, just don't start crying again!" Rebecca pleaded.

Rebecca was turning 16 the next day, and what had her mother made them do the hours prior to it? Look at some family photos, hundreds of them.

"We should be going upstairs, Mrs. Chambers," Claire interrupted. "There's a big test tomorrow and all that."

"Right, girls. I'm sorry." Mrs. Chambers wiped her tears, and sent them away.

They ran out, not looking back, fearing that Mrs. Chambers would change her mind.

"I have never seen so many pictures of one single person before," Jill muttered as they went upstairs. "There were like a thousand pictures, all of them just slightly different from the other."

Rebecca and Claire giggled loudly, and they all threw her bags on the floor and kicked off their shoes. They were every bit a perfect picture of sweet youth and fresh beauty. Rebecca had finally grown, as she always wanted, and her hopes reached new heights; for that's what beauty sometimes do to people, especially to someone as naïve and innocent as Rebecca. Once again, she became that stuck-up 7-year-old she once was, except that now her mother encouraged her to be so.

They all flopped onto the bed, closing their eyes as they slowly dozed off. Softball practice had been especially hard that day and they all decided to take a quick nap before watching movies, a ritual they had developed for every Friday afternoon.

It could have been a normal day, until Rebecca's cell buzzed, vibrating against the night stand. She reached blindly with her hand as her face was still buried on the pillow; she knocked a glass of water before she got a hold of the mobile.

"Could you bring something to clean this up, Claire?"

Claire dragged herself out of bed, face down and slumped shoulders. Jill decided to enjoy all this new free space and dropped her arms at each sides of her, as far as she could reach; soon, she was sleeping again as Rebecca looked intently at the bright screen of her cell.

Been long since I last saw you. Miss you. Have a great B-day.

Short, but yet very straight to the point. Caring, but yet so cold.

It was all fair; since that pledge she made two years ago, she had also stopped to be that chirpy, bouncing sweet kid. It might be all the product of a teenager phase, that's what they thought. But only she, Claire and Jill knew she was being all catty just to push a certain someone away.

It all started with something simple. Every time he asked a question, she answered with monosyllables, looking quite uninterested. When he hugged her, she let her own arms just fall at her sides, not hugging back. When he made a joke, she rolled her eyes.

So, since little Rebecca had turned 15, Billy had decided to be less of a hugger and more of a frowner.

For Rebecca, frustration became anger. She wanted to hate everything about him; about his musky, deep perfume; about his angular features and perfect nose; about those piercing eyes; and, most definitely, about those dreams she started to have.

But she couldn't, of course, and as she failed to hate him, she became frustrated once more. And, yes, he was again single, and Jill still encouraged her to go for it, and it still hurt, but her pride made her not shed another tear for him.

On the other hand, Rebecca was not all angry and snappy as it might sound. She was still a very sweet, very shy, pretty girl. She still blushed when Billy got closer than expected, and he still teased her about it. He would pinch her cheeks, happy to get a genuine reaction from the teenager, and then –Rebecca noticed-, sometimes, his gaze seemed to linger on her face a little longer than usual; his eyes would wander, a slight smile on his mouth, and he would spend long seconds studying her doe eyes, outlining the soft features, and the plump lips; and then, she would look down, her lashes dusting over her cheekbones; someone talked and the moment was over, but the memory of that gaze still present, making her face warm and her stomach tickly with emotion.

"What is it?" Claire leaned over her distracted friend, getting a good glance at the message before the cell was flipped shut.

"Aunt Mary," Rebecca quickly replied, tossing the cell inside aside, "wishing me a happy birthday."

"If I were Jill," Claire said, wiping the liquid off the floor with a rug, "I would go ahead and say that was not your aunt Mary who just wrote you. And I would also point out the way your face is all red and your hands are a little shaky. But I'm not Jill, so I'm gonna give you a break."

"I…," Rebecca started, agitated, "it would also be nice to know what Jill doesn't think of the whole situation."

"Well, as you know, she thinks you should either kick him in the balls… or do him. Tough call, I know. But –since I'm not her- I think you should just let it all go. As simple as that. Just be friends and take it from there, if you want to take it anywhere."

"I think I like it better when it's not her giving me the advice."

"She's very passionate about what she thinks."

"She only seems passionate about sex. She's like a boy."

They both stifled a laugh, looking over their shoulders at Jill's sleeping form.

"My brother won't stop talking about her," Claire said. "Always telling how he wants to hug her and kiss her. So cheesy."

"Must be nice, though, to have someone feel that way about you."

"You little…" Claire gave Rebecca a slight punch on the shoulder, "You got half the school feeling that way about you."

"But I just want one, and that's enough, really." Rebecca flopped back onto bed.

"Then you should start by answering that text."

And so she did.