Author's Note 2: The narrartive voice changes from Katie to Sarah after the dashes.
Author's Note 3: The views expressed by the characters do not necessarily reflect those of the author.
Feedback: Greatly appreciated. The more feedback I get, the more I will be motivated to write! So if I don't receive any, I'll take that as a sign that I suck and that I shouldn't write anymore...
PART VIII: Much Ado About Everything
It's nothing… I'm all right… It's nothing…
Again and again I repeat the words.
It feels like I'm dying.
Dark blood continues to drip from the sore wound.
A part of me slips further and further away.
Could this be love?
I try to hold on tight.
It's nothing… It's nothing…
Sarah is lying.
Tears of mourning baptize me anew.
No, I'm all right… Yeah, I'm all right.
------
The next day, I entered school newly reverted. I had spent the whole night, in front of my mirror, weighing out all options and possibilities of what Sarah had said, which was difficult due to heavy thoughts ironically of shallow things like infatuation. But, in the end, I was all right… Although it did result in a shattered reflection and a bloodied hand wounded by angered confusion; but, sans the need of stitching and removal of imbedded glass, I believe I'm all right…Yeah, I'm all right.
Across the hall, I stood, watching Jessie struggle to her locker with a stack of books nearly half her size in her delicate and fragile arms. The sight of her made me smile… for it amused me how hard she tried to condescendingly prove that she's smarter than everyone else. 'They're all probably books about God and her husband, Jesus, just to doubly insult us; to subtly rub in our faces that not only are we stupid, but we're all going to hell as well.' Then, while she vainly tried to open her locker, the stack of books came crashing down with a booming thud and scattered sprawlingly across the floor. I had a sudden inclination to rescue her, but I tried to resist it. After all, she was clearly being punished for blatantly putting her arrogance on display; so why should I help her when she obviously deserved it? Shrugging off my thoughts, I ended up helping her anyway. I resolved that I should try and make amends with Jessie, but not because I am infatuated with her, 'I am NOT infatuated with Jessie,' but so I can ultimately win the wager between Sarah and me; because I hate losing…especially to Sarah.
"Thanks," said Jessie with a forcibly polite smile as she took the books from my hand and placed them into her locker.
"No worries," I replied charmingly. "You know how I have a weakness for helpless blondes in distress."
Jessie laughed uncomfortably while trying to avoid my gaze, subsequently noticing my melodramatically bandaged hand.
"Oh my god, Katie, what happened to your hand?" cried Jessie, grabbing hold of my appendage.
Instantly, I became tense by the unexpected contact.
"Oh…uh…" I mumbled, suddenly incapable of forming comprehensible thoughts.
Abashedly noticing the reason for my inarticulation, Jessie quickly released her hold of my arm, and it fell limp.
"I'm sorry," apologized Jessie who was red with embarrassment.
"No, it's all right," I said as my wit restored. "I mean, I'm all right." I looked down at my wounded hand. "I-I just…" I tried to find the words that would glorify the incident in question and not make it seem as foolish as it actually was – me, stupidly punching a mirror of glass. "I got in a fight."
"With who?" asked Jessie as dark lines of worry drew across her brow.
"With…" I was going to explain how I was unexpectedly attacked by a whole gang of skin-headed neo-Nazis while I was on my way delivering food and clothing to a homeless shelter after saving an array of small children, nuns, and cute, furry little animals from a burning orphanage slash convent slash cute, furry little animals preservation center… But then Jessie did that stupid thing with her eyes again, which reminded me, 'Oh, wait… That happened last week.' So, defeated, I admitted with a sigh of embarrassment, "my mirror…"
Jessie exhaled a little laugh, seeming relieved, then jokingly inquired, "Who won?"
Reflexively, I responded to Jessie with mild bewilderment, which I suppose was amusingly apparent on my face since Jessie's smile widened when she looked at me. Her reaction was one I didn't expect. Usually with Sarah, I would be castigated with contemptuous laughter and cruel derisions for admitting to such stupidity. But with Jessie… Her laugh was genuine and good-natured, and her mockery wasn't intended to hurt anyone, but merely to make light of the situation. I found myself unwontedly smiling, liking this new change.
"Hard to say," I humored. "I mean, the mirror may be the one in pieces, but it did manage to give me a quarter-inch deep gash across my hand."
"Ouch," winced Jessie sympathetically.
"No, I'm all right," I said with great stoicism. "I'm a big girl now. I pick my own fights with mirrors and everything."
I crossed my arms and upturned my nose in jest. Jessie laughed, and I laughed with her, but it was only tact. I didn't want her to get suspicious.
"Hey, what's that?"
I pointed to a folded sheet of stationary that had fallen onto the ground from Jessie's locker as she took out one of her notebooks.
"It's nothing," said Jessie evadingly, hurriedly snatching up the piece of paper and placing it into her bag.
Jessie's name was scrawled across the front, which clearly meant it was a letter sent from someone else unless she knew another 'Jessie Sammler' or was clinically schizophrenic. And – by Jessie's reaction – the letter was deductively about me. The letter was from her informer…
"Who's it from?" I asked, trying to act casual, but a drop of contempt managed to leak through.
"That's none of your business," snapped Jessie.
"If this person is spreading rumors about me behind my back then it's my business!" I seethed, as my anger began to flood rampantly.
"It isn't a rumor if you already admitted that it's true!" countered Jessie, who seemed to have absorbed my un-dammed fury.
"So you admitted it! The letter is about me!"
"What!" Jessie became confused then shook her head violently. "No!"
"No! But you just said –"
"Forget what I just said!" interrupted Jessie, trying to settle the petty fight. "You shouldn't be asking if the letter is about you or not because it's none of your business. This is my letter addressed to me and no one else."
Jessie spoke in a patronizing tone and acted as if she was pacifying a toddler – taking a moment ever so often to see if I understood what she was saying.
"I'm the only one who can decide whether I'm going to share it or not and whom I'm going to share it with. And if I choose not to share it with you then you should respect that," said Jessie, with underlying subtext.
'God, she sounds like an after-school special…'
"Fine…" I surrendered. "But a word to the wise – you shouldn't avoid someone if it's for reasons that may not be entirely true."
"I'm not avoiding you," said Jessie, seeming hurt by the indirect accusation.
"Then how come I didn't see you at all yesterday?" I reasoned, keeping a hardened expression. I wasn't going to let my guard down for the "wounded puppy" look – an elementary trick at best.
Jessie read my reluctance to believe her then exhaled a deep sigh.
"If you must know… I had to go to the doctor. Principal Louis wanted me to fill out my immunization forms before I can continue taking classes this semester."
"So it's not because of something that happened over the weekend, like, say Saturday in particular?"
"No… Why? What happened on Saturday?" asked Jessie, feigning ignorance.
"Oh, I don't know… Certain truths were revealed, there was some crying, some teenage angst, a lot of melodrama and, oh yeah! You almost kissed me…"
"I did not kiss you!" hissed Jessie, a bit panicked, looking around to see if any passers-by had overheard such a scandalous thing – me kissing a girl like Jessie who is so far from my type.
"Yeah, I know… hence the word – almost," I said matter-of-factly in my normal volume, not caring if others heard, although slightly wishing for them to simply to see Jessie's eyes bug-out again. "But you did want to kiss me."
"No!" protested Jessie rather heatedly.
"No?" I asked evocatively, slowly lessening the distance between us.
"No…" said Jessie, breathless, growing more and more nervous with every step that I took toward her.
I stopped a little more than an inch in front of her. I was so close, I swear I heard the rapid thud of her heartbeat; its reverberant rhythm was intoxicating as it resounded through my body. I had to take a moment to admire such cadential beauty. Jessie stood seemingly paralyzed. I don't recall her ever blinking, not once, while we stood in admiring silence. I smiled; I always found myself smiling in response to whatever reaction I got from Jessie. Then after studying her face for one more moment longer, I leaned in slowly, which caused Jessie to inhale deeply with surprise; and as I bypassed her lips, I whispered softly into her ear…
"Well, I didn't hear you say stop…"
I pulled back then stared at Jessie with a malicious grin. She looked so innocent and vulnerable that I so deeply wanted to seduce her; I wanted to ravage her with such animalistic fervor; to savagely annihilate whatever purity resided in her; and I wanted her to still believe in God and His laws and still be unable to stop herself; I wanted the pleasure of watching her willingly betray everything that ever was important to her for sin; for me…
Jessie turned away, seeing the attractiveness of ill-intention in my eyes. Her head was probably filling with sinful thoughts. 'I can hear the Hail Marys already.'
"Look, that was an accident, okay," lamely explained Jessie as she shook her head to absolve her mind and emphasize her negation. "I have a boyfriend."
"Oh, do you?" I scoffed, with mocking laughter. "It's funny how you've never mentioned him until now."
"Well, I do," said Jessie defensively. She reached into her locker and pulled out a small photo of her with a boy. He was a midget of a fellow, barely taller than Jessie, with huge, bug-like eyes, and flaxen, unkempt hair atop an abnormally large, bulbous head that was disproportioned to his body. If there ever was a reason for Jessie being gay… he was it. "His name is Braden. He's a freshman at Northwestern, but he's only a year older than me. He graduated as a junior last year."
"Impressive," I said with biting sarcasm. 'Like I care…'
"We've been dating for a year and a half now, and I miss him a lot," said Jessie, returning the photo to her locker. She sounded more like she was trying to convince herself than me.
"A year and a half and you still haven't given it up?" I remarked as she closed the door to her locker. "What's the matter? It isn't true love?"
Jessie turned to me, looking shocked at my audacity to ask such questions. However, I ignored her and continued my rhetorical interrogation.
"Do your knees not tremble when he holds you close? Does the color not drain from your face when he gazes deeply into your eyes? Does your heart not beat so fast whenever he's around that you can hardly catch your breath, and it feels like if he never leaves, it could just burst right out of your chest?"
I reached out and placed my hand upon Jessie's hurriedly beating heart, it pulsed feverishly beneath my touch, its tempo ever increasing, before I delicately whispered…
"Like it does for me…"
Quickly, Jessie pushed my hand away.
"Don't…I'm not like that, okay?"
"Not like what?" I asked, looking clueless while knowing perfectly well what she meant.
"I'm not like… I'm not a…"
Jessie became flustered complete with furrowed brow and stuttered speech. It was amusing to see how difficult it was for her to admit something that she so believed to be true. Perhaps, it was because a part of her knew that it wasn't…
"Sound it out…" I teasingly encouraged.
"I'm not a lesbian," said Jessie, finally managing to spit it out. However, she said that last bit lower than the rest of the sentence as if it was a forbidden word and death will come to all who say it.
"Wait. A what? What was that?" I asked, cupping my hand to my ear.
"You heard me," said Jessie sheepishly, not wanting to repeat it.
"Yeah, I know," I said with a mischievous grin. "But I want you to say it again. You make the cutest face when you're in denial."
I pinched Jessie's cheek for added emphasis.
"I'm not in denial," stated Jessie with grave seriousness as she swatted away my hand.
"Yeah, whatever," I said non-chalantly, shrugging off her severity. "But the truth of the matter is that you wanted to kiss me… Because you like me, Jessie."
I placed my hands on my hips and playfully raised a melodramatic eyebrow.
"Admit it… I'm adorable."
I smirked at Jessie suggestively. She stood still for a moment in a deep stupor, seemingly entranced by me. When she finally realized what she was doing, she quickly shut her eyes and shook her head for absolution once again.
"Believe what you want," said Jessie, turning away. "I can't talk to you right now."
"Oh, c'mon Jessie…" I laughingly pleaded as she began to walk away. "Don't be so homophobic!"
I tried to call out after her through pauses in laughter, "Jessie…Jess!"
After she turned the corner and was out of earshot, I immediately stopped laughing.
"Fuck…" I muttered under my breath. 'So much for making amends…'
Shrugging off my thoughts, I began to leave, but after a few steps, I felt a slight elevation in the floor. I looked down to discover a small book beneath my foot. Picking it up for closer inspection, I found it was a copy of William Shakespeare's Much Ado About Nothing. I opened the book to the first page and saw written on its top-right-hand corner the name – Jessie Sammler. It was a book from Jessie's pile of tangible arrogance that had been overlooked.
"Miss Singer, you finally decided to participate in extra-curricular activities; have you?" said a voice out of nowhere.
"What?" I jumped, a bit startled. "No!"
I looked up and was met with a pair of big grey eyes belonging to my academic advisor – Miss Lafleur – who was also the head of Upton Sinclair's drama department. She was an amazingly gorgeous woman with long slender legs that composed most of her tall stature; she had dark red hair that swept down her back in flowing waves and cute little freckles that lined her face which belied her age of thirty-four. It was hard to believe that she was a failed actress. She must have really sucked at acting…
"Oh, but the book," said Miss Lafleur, pointing to the object which I held in my hand. "I assumed you intended to participate in this year's spring play."
"The play?" I asked, a bit confused. I almost forgot about the school's annual spring play wholly because I didn't give a shit; I hardly paid attention to anything, much less an amateur production butchering fine theater that was also associated with school. "Oh yes, the play… I thought you said… something else. I'm sorry. Yeah… Much Ado About Nothing." I held up the book then turned to its back-cover, trying to find something to say about it, but what the blurb basically said was that it was a play by Shakespeare. 'That's fucking brilliant…' "Why, that is my most favorite play… by Shakespeare, which I like to… act out, as most people generally do with plays… right?"
I looked to Miss Lafleur for affirmation, which she gave by a simple head nod.
"Right…" I continued. "So, I guess, I will see you, Miss Lafleur, at auditions this – uh…"
"Today, at four."
"Today, at four. Of course! I was just testing you… And you passed! Good job! You get a gold star! Uh…" I searched my pockets and found a half-roll of mints. "Which is equivalent to Mentos! So here you go." I took her hand, and placed the mints into her open palm, before closing it up again. "Now, don't you eat them all at once or else you'll get a tummy ache." I warned as I patted her fist which held the half-roll of Mentos. "Well, see you later!" I turned around as a malevolent grin crept its way onto my lips.
'The play's the thing.' It seemed dear Jessie longed for the spotlight; and, lucky for me, the light was blinding. I planned to go to rehearsal and purloin the letter from Jessie's bag as she auditioned. She would never be able to see me as the bright lights beamed upon her limiting her perception of those beyond the stage to shadows. It was a fool-proof plan, or so I thought…
But even the smartest of people can be made into fools.
