Chapter 9

Okay. So you dream to be and have a lot of things when you're a kid. Kids dream of being princesses or cowboys, becoming astronauts, of having cars or tucks or whatever else. You know; all that classic gender based stuff.

But me? Yeah, you know how that goes; I didn't want any of that stupid stuff. My deepest wishes, what I blew out my candles on my birthday cake for, was to live in a place where they sold lamps and to have my name changed to Castle, Castle Davies. Cast for friends, family and such.

Lucy used to always call me Castle, simply because I asked her to. I guess the whole her breaking my heart took the magic out of the name, and places where shadows were just lighter shades of light.

Spencer nudges me. I'm ripped away from the bits and pieces of memory I have of the place I once considered the best, and dropped into English class.

I try to glare at her but have a hard time when she teasingly signs,

''Stop not looking at me.''

With that shadow of a smile on her lips and something halfway between like and love dancing in her eyes, it's hard for me to even look at her.

So I whisper, ''If you didn't smell so bad, maybe I could look at you.''

It doesn't matter what I say, because she knows what it means. She smiles.

I scoot my chair closer to hers, so I continue to draw on the sides of her notes. I don't even think at this point teachers care anymore, about anything. By god, if I had to stand there and try to make 30 kids believe that what I'm teaching is actually important to real life, I'd slice my wrists in circular motions with the uttermost precision. Even then, I'd probably do a better job then this guy, but that's beside the point. So I draw little shapes, and rainbows, and flying chicken legs, and stick figures of us being killed by odd numbers… you know, what common everyday people draw all the time.

Her had stops writing down notes, and I feel the warmth of her stare on my cheek. When I finally look at her, I don't know what to do. It hits me hard and makes me feel a little too sober; I feel a sinking in my chest and shivers crawling over my skin. I look at her, and it's hard for me not to just lean over and kiss her.

''So Ms. Davies, how about you share your poem to the class.'' The teacher looks at me all cocky. Like this is like, the core and crown and life of his big master plan. I roll my eyes.

I take out a paper out of my pack pocket, all crumpled up and messy, and a couple of people snort or laugh, and he looks at me surprised I even have something. He almost had his finger on the intercom to send me to the principal's office or whatever.

So I start, my voice is trying to hide in the pack of my throat, but I force it out, for the sake of my grade;

''Shedidn'tbelieveinhowstarswere,

And it seemed to her,

They were all one big star

But had been vandalized with thick thick scars,

Probably the fault of daddy's friends from the bar,

But the girl was so convinced it had been the same ones that did her's''

I was reading it like I was on auto pilot, my mind swimming elsewhere. Would I actually have kissed Spencer? Spencer, of all those people I could want to kiss. Maybe I was just using that expression. I mean its common right? People say that all the time. Yeah.

Oh fuck.

''ShemetagirlandnamedherLover

But the other girl, sad, a little more clever,

She called her Castle

That night Lover crept into the fortress,

Never left, ghosts almost catching up to her in the forest

Lived with Castle as if it was a harvest,

Castle Empty, Lover had nothing to invest''

My head rushes back to sweaty palms, tingling skin and increasing heartbeats. I suddenly feel sick. My head rushes back to that first time I saw her, that that crushed soul in her eyes, I go back to that time at the party, that crumbing of her heart.

I've done a lot of good things in my life, just like I've done a lot of bad things. And to be honest, I don't know which is most prominent. I cannot even keep a simple assignment clean and free of stains, holes and folds. What if, by chance, life gave me an already broken girl to hold? What would I do then? What would happen then, of the fragile girl under my clumsy hands?

''… Castlebroken,holdingsomeoneelse'spieces''

The class is silent and that scares me.

I look at Spencer, she's looking at me with that look that I've seen more times then I've said my own name. She's looking at me like she heard what I thought earlier and doesn't know what to make of it. Of me. It's getting awkward, so my first instinct is to;

''Actually, I didn't write this. I made Spencer write it for me in exchange for two of my vintage dinosaur magazines from the 80s. She didn't want to at first, so I added my virginity and it was a done deal.'' Say whatever.

Some people kind of laugh, but I think most of them are shock that this poem, unlike my last, 6 or 7 ones, aren't about walking teeth from Mars, pies or my uncle's moustache.

I get the courage to look at Spencer again. She's look past all of this, and she's looking right at me.

It's been a while since That Day. Also known as That Stupid Day That Ruined My Head to close friends, meaning me. I'm lying on Spencer's bed, staring at that boat shaped crack on her ceiling. She's cleaning her room because her mother asked her to, since for the first time in a while, her father is actually going to be there for super. My plans; before supper, throw myself down the stairs and pretend to have a broken leg and hypothermia.

I think it's going to work.

I finally look at her, and to make everything that much harder, she stops what she's doing and smiles sweetly at me. I roll my eyes. Yeah, Spencer, as if things like that help this situation.

My rolling of eyes makes her frown, so she gets lies down next to me, and sign's,

''You've been weird all week. What's wrong?''

I frown. I don't know. I don't know what's so wrong about this. And I didn't know what to do about everything I'm feeling, all the ifs and the maybes and the buts, so I chose the next best option, ignorance. Joy. It's put me in an edgy weird mood all week.

''It's nothing. I just keep thinking about how the cake is a lie.'' To a certain degree, I'm lying, I feel guilty for doing so.

She gives me a disbelieving look and is like, ''you're lying, you got over that weeks ago.''

I forgot how much time we've spent together. Before I can come up with something else, she moves closer to me, puts her hand on my chest and holds me.

It's all very confusing. Because how exactly are you supposed to tell to a girl who flinches away from everyone else's touch, that when she touches you, it's like it burns? To tell a girl who is mute, that she makes talking hard for you? Really, how exactly do you tell a girl who gets numb, whose eyes are a window to the charred remains of someone she used to be, how can you tell a girl that isn't really happy most of the time, that she's really the only thing that makes you happy? I don't think you can.

She looks up at me, worry and concern is painted boldly on her face. I try to wash it away by giving her a smile and blowing a raspberry on that place right below her jaw. Even thought I can't hear it, I can practically here her body giggling, which end's up turning into a full body tickle match.

I'm winning, FYI, that's why she pinned under me and her eye's are doing that thing Tyra Banks is always talking about. Sorry Tyra, I know you're all that great and an Amazon, but your eye-smiling ain't got much on Spencer's.

And I that's my last thought before I hear the door slam open and I feel my body thrown or pulled away from Spencer's.

''What the hell.'' I manage to get out as I rub that spot on my head I just bumped against the wall.

I look up, and I see Spencer's father looking at her and then me, his chest going up and down rapidly. Usually, my first reflex when I'm pushed, is to just you know, beat the crap out of that person. But he has a look on his face, like he's about to cry. I don't know what to make of that.

Spencer is looking at him with a look on her face that if it would have been aimed towards me, I would have jumped off a bridge.

She's like, ''what do you think you're doing.''

''I, well, erm, I thought, I thought…'' Yes Arthur, would you like to buy some sense?

He looks at me. Hey buddy boy, don't look at me, I'm still in shock and undecided as to what I'm going to do of what just happened.

''I'm sorry Ashley; I thought you were someone else. Spencer, just tell your mother I'll be back for supper. I need to go take a walk. Sorry girls.'' He actually looks like confused had a baby with embarrassed.

I'm still haven't moved, my mouth is probably still open, but I wouldn't know for sure.

Spencer comes close to me slowly, and sits gently on my lap. She taps my neck with her index to get my attention.

''I'm really sorry. He, I mean. He didn't know. He thought you were trying to cop a feel or something. Are you okay?''

I nod and pout dramatically and point to where I bumped myself on the wall.

She knows I'm okay, and it's not that bad.

''Awh, poor little baby.'' She teases. I put my hands around her waist and hold her closer. She presses a small kiss on my head, one I barely noticed.

''I love you Spencer.'' I say, a little hesitant.

Her hand goes over my heart, trapping twice, probably not understanding how it can go so fast. I think it means she loves me too.