Alex could be vindictive, but I prayed she didn't do the worst thing she could do, and tell our parents about our relationship. While that would be bad for her as well, it would be far worse for me because, being older and the male, I would be seen at fault, despite the fact that it was she who approached me. Perhaps she was bluffing, or perhaps she was crazy. In any event, I couldn't take that chance. The next time we were alone, I begged her to not do anything, and she sighed, blew her hair out of her eyes again, and then said she wouldn't. We kissed again, apparently on a good side of our relationship once more.
This was horrible. Perhaps I should have taken the chance to end it, or at the very least stop going to quickly. But it was then that she spoke the most damnable words to ever come out of her mouth.
"I love you, Justin."
It was not the words – it was how she had said them. She had never said it like that before, never meant it quite as fully as she had. How she could be so mad at me at the one instant and love me the next, I cannot fathom. Yet I knew as well that she expected me to reciprocate this message of love. For some reason saying so felt like exposing myself, yet I could not lie. I did love her. How, exactly, I was not certain, but dear readers again do not judge this poor soul harshly, and realize the stress I was under. Realize that at that point I fully felt like I loved her. And so I said so, yet this emotional roller coaster was beginning to make me nauseous.
That was the next trouble. In addition to my constant fear of being discovered, I began to grow sick all the time. But not quite to the point where I would actually have to vomit. It was more of a subtle thing that sat on me all day, this queasy and uneasy feeling that would not even go away if I did throw up. I knew it was related to my anxiety over the fear of being discovered. Alas, I could get no relief. I could not very well tell anyone of this, and certainly not my parents, so what course did I have but to attempt to live through it?
Allow me to go back to the day after we professed our love for one another, which was about two and a half months since this sordid affair began. It was from then that I had begun to feel nauseous, and the first symptoms appeared the very next day.
I had made my way down to the breakfast table, intending on something light, like cereal. But even that proved to be too much for my stomach to handle, and I could barely eat. My eyes must have looked weary, too, or perhaps even bloodshot or red and puffy. I hadn't seen myself in the mirror, but I must have looked bad because of my mother saying "Justin, you don't look well, are you sick?" I replied that I was not, I just had a restless night. Alex looked at me cockeyed, but I tried to ignore it.
We walked to school, and since Max was in on our little secret, Alex felt safe discussing in. I didn't – I didn't know who could be listening or watching, especially in public, but Alex was easy to make angry, so I didn't say anything. Meanwhile the fact that she went on merely made me more anxious and more sick.
"Justin, you have got to pull it together! Mom's going to get suspicious," she was saying.
"Don't you think I know that?" I snapped back. This was extremely double-natured of her, to accuse me of being suspicious while doing something so very suspect herself.
"And you don't have to get angry at me all the time," she said, sounding somewhat hurt. I was not in the mood, though.
"Nor do you," I had replied.
"Oh yeah? When was the last time I got angry at you?" she said, stopping and putting a hand on her waist.
"Last night, perhaps?" I returned. She looked even more hurt.
"I wasn't mad at you, I was just...frustrated."
How, readers, am I supposed to tell the difference?
"But Justin, I love -"
"Shh!" I interjected. "Someone could be listening!"
"That's ridiculous! Who could be listening to us?"
"I don't know! And I know it's ridiculous, but that doesn't mean I don't feel like we are being watched!" I cried. And it was true – along with this wave of sudden nauseous feelings I seemed to get the notion that someone was watching me. I don't know why they didn't do anything if they were – arrest me, apprehend me, for God's sake kill me, please! but they didn't, and I was left standing here, with her, the girl I loved.
Because despite the fact that she was causing me such consternation, I still believed I loved her. I really can't even say why. Perhaps that should have been a warning flag but at the time I thought it was just an indication of my love being so deep that it didn't need reason. In any event, we walked to school in silence as I had wished, but it was an angry silence – one that I feel she forced on me by giving me the silent treatment. How women achieve the effect of making you feel bad about getting what you wanted in the first place, I shall never know, but it is only further evidence in support of my short-sightedness. Perhaps I still could have given it up there, but unfortunately this "love" I felt for her was preventing me from doing anything.
School that day was interesting, if "interesting" is a synonym for "horrendous." I could not concentrate on anything, and I began to be afraid that if I thought too much about Alex, the government would be able to overhear with their mind-reading technology.
It was at this point that I caught myself and realized how crazy I had actually become. The very notion of it! "Mind-reading technology"... on the other hand, I was a wizard, mind-reading does exist. But the mundane government wouldn't have it, and the Wizard Council wouldn't care that I was in an incestuous relationship with my sister. Would it? I began to sweat bullets at the thought, because the idea of magical detection hadn't occurred to me until then.
"Justin," my chemistry teacher said, sounding worried. "You don't look well, are you all right?"
"Y-yeah," I had managed, although it was a lie and the teacher could tell.
"Are you sure? I think you should go down to the nurse... it couldn't hurt to check."
"OK," I had said. She was right, actually, and the walk might do me good. I knew I could do for a drink of water. She wrote out the hall pass and I took it, hurrying out of there.
On the way there, I saw something I very clearly shouldn't have. In the middle of the hall, I saw Alex standing there, kissing a boy in my grade named Jack Johansen.
I should have been relieved. Think about this for a minute – Alex loving me was causing me no end of distress and if she had moved on I should have been positively elated. But, and you will agree with me here, I was not thinking rationally at all. Instead, I felt that basest of all human emotions, that of jealousy.
"Alex!" I cried, forgetting that that would also attract the attention of Jack. He didn't know, of course, about my relationship with Alex – at least, I hoped not. Still, he did look sheepish at getting caught.
"I um, gotta go," he mumbled, and sauntered off.
"For one," I said, coming over to Alex. "PDAs aren't allowed in the hall, for another, you should be in class," I began with the obvious.
"You're in the hall in class," she retorted.
"I... have a hall pass!" I exclaimed, raising the piece of paper as though it were a badge. "Plus, I thought you kinda had a thing with me."
"We do!" she said, pleadingly. "It's just that he really liked me and I couldn't give him a good reason for us not to go out, I mean since I haven't dated anyone lately...plus you haven't been making out with me much recently and I'm used to it..."
Was I strong? Did I finally stand up for myself and my feelings? No! I gave in to her tale. I simply sighed, since that would allay suspicion off of us.
"Fine," I said. "I have an appointment with the nurse." I stormed off.
I arrived in the nurses office in a bit of a huff. She looked almost alarmed and I swore she could hear my heart beating from where she stood. But she took my temperature and saw that it was only slightly above normal. She said that while I did look sick, she couldn't tell if there was anything wrong with me, but I was welcome to lie down in the office for a bit anyway. I decided to take that opportunity. It was quiet in there, and I could think. But I don't know what I wanted to think about. I didn't want to think anything right then, I just kind of wanted to lie down and die. As luck would have it, I did not.
I was excused out of the rest of chemistry, and I went to my next class, calmed down a little bit. I even managed to pass Alex in the hall without looking angry at her, and actually stopped to chat.
"You're not mad?" Alex said.
"No, I mean, if it were a normal circumstance and we didn't have anything to hide I might be, but I can see how you'd be hard pressed," I said. At the time, in fact, I even actually believed what I was saying. The psyche is a terrible, treacherous thing.
"Good, I'm glad," she said, smiling that all-too-dear smile at me.
"Yeah, I can't be too mad, the weather lady is on tonight," I said, perhaps teasing Alex just a bit. I thought it was warranted – apparently I was wrong.
"Ugh!" she cried. "I wish you wouldn't mention her! It's just that, whenever you do I get really jealous. You like her better than me!"
I literally had to sit here, with my head in my hand, after writing that, for a few moments. Now I cannot believe that I lived through it. But now, please, readers, can you understand the double standard that goes on here? Can you understand how exasperated I must have been? I just don't understand her sometimes. Perhaps most of the time. But I'm telling you now, that words cannot express how distraught I was over that.
