When I awake the next morning, the whole house smells like pancakes and syrup, which is weird because a.) I can't cook and b.) my mother can't cook to save her life either, and besides, since when did she start coming home before noon?
Besides, it's a Saturday, and my mother would rather be off running errands than have breakfast with me.
The world outside the living room window is fairly still, and the sunlight filtering in is golden and painfully blinding, but it sobers me up quickly. I let out a I-really-don't-want-to-get-out-of-bed-but-I-have-to kind of groan.
Sitting up on the couch, I feel a brief moment of discomfort and grossness because I'm still clad in my clothes from yesterday, but it quickly passes over when I hear singing.
It's quiet at first, the words and melody barely audible over the sound of the frying pan and cabinets opening and closing, but with each fleeting second it grows louder, more confident.
Somewhere over the rainbow
Way up high
There's a land that I heard of
Once in a lullaby
Somewhere over the rainbow
Skies are blue
And the dreams that you dare to dream
Really do come true
That's when it hits me like a freight train.
Cat Valentine is in my kitchen. She's cooking me breakfast. She's singing.
The night rushes back to me in broken fragments, and I suck it all in at once.
Beck saying he loves me but 'it's not working', with his sorry eyes and stale soda. Me, in a crumpled, hormonal heap of a person on my bed. My status update on The Slap. Someone knocking on my door. Watching as a mermaid becomes a human three times in a row. The scent of vanilla and the sound of Cat Valentine's pulse in my ear.
Like a jolt of electricity into my limbs, I climb off the couch and after stumbling clumsily over a pair of sneakers that are not mine, I nearly dart for the entrance to the kitchen.
"Mornin', sunshine." Cat's words are upbeat and melodic when I step into the kitchen, probably looking like Katy Perry in the Hot N Cold video (minus the wedding dress) compared to her. Her skin looks freshly scrubbed, and wrapped around her jeans is my dad's old apron that has 'Kiss The Cook' written on it. "You hungry?"
She's at the stove, and there are eggs simmering on a pan, while six fluffy beige pancakes sit patiently in a stack on one of my mother's prized China plates on the counter. Near the microwave, the toaster (which I swear hasn't been used in months) dings. I didn't even know we had eggs.
When Cat turns again, her hair bounces along with her movement, and she's smiling, her teeth pearly. "Sit, sit. I'm almost done."
My feet obey immediately, and I drop into the kitchen table, hands pressed together, my gaze still trained on her.
What is she doing? Why is she even doing this? Not that I'm complaining or anything, but why?
After a few more moments of fluttering around the kitchen like the bumblebee she is, Cat finally waltzed over to the table with two plates piled high with eggs sunny side up, buttered toast, fluffy pancakes and crisp bacon.
"Give me your honest opinion, okay?" She says, placing my plate delicately in front of me before settling into the unoccupied chair across from me. "I just started taking these cooking classes with Tori, so I'm probably not all that awesome."
"Cat, why did you …" I choose my words carefully. I don't want her to think I don't appreciate all of this (because, trust me, I can't even remember the last time someone even considered making me breakfast). "Why did you do all of this for me?"
Cat takes a little nibble of her toast and then sets in tenderly back on her plate. And then she does the strangest thing.
She reaches across the table and slides her palm over my hand, and her fingers curl. When I look at her, she's not smiling, but her eyes are crinkling at the edges. "You're my friend. That's what friends do for each other. They make each other feel better."
When her grip on my hand tightens, and I think I forget how to breathe.
Her words are bouncing around my skull. You're my friend. You're my friend.
It's not that I'm angry that she called me her friend. It's not that I'm happy either. I'm just … surprised.
Okay, on a scale of 1 to douche-bag, I've been nothing but an asshole to Cat since the day we met. And, what makes it even worse is that she's never really given me a reason.
See, Tori has, because she thought it was okay to be a smoochy smoochy with Beck the first week of school (which I could care less about now). Robbie has, because he's just a fucking weirdo. Trina because she's annoying and conceited, and André because once he posted an embarrassing photo of me on The Slap, and I was not laughing.
But Cat … she's always been nice. Always. No matter what kind of shit I threw at her, she was always back for more, always smiley and bubbly and just being herself.
So for her to call me her friend now, well, it's kind of a big deal.
"So?" Cat's brown eyes shift from my face to my plate. "How are the eggs?"
I didn't notice, but she let my hand go, the moment has past but the flesh where she touched me is tingling. I quickly withdraw the hand into my lap and cradle it there like her touching me was something special.
"They're-they're amazing. Thank you, Cat." I inhale.
She smiles, and it must be infectious, because before I know it, the corners of my lips are tugging up and I'm smiling too, which is odd for me, because … well, let's just say I'm not exactly the happiest person around.
We eat in silence for a few moments, and I realize that this is the first silence that I actually enjoy. It's not the kind of silence where everything is awkward and irritating, but the kind where you know you could just say anything, and you wouldn't be judged for it.
But I don't say anything. Cat's food is delicious.
"Listen," Cat suddenly puts her fork down, and raises her eyes to me. This time, they're not soft and inviting, but more like sharp and commanding. I've never seen her look at me like this before. "We are going to have fun today, Jade. And while we're having fun, I don't want to hear you utter a single word about … He Who Shall Not Be Named, understood?"
"But, Cat-"
"No." She puts her hand up to silence me, and it works. "No 'if', 'ands' or 'buts' about it. We're going shopping, and then to a movie, and then out to lunch. I'm not going to let you sit here and rot in your own pity, Jade."
And then that's when a smile spreads out on her lips, and she adds, "And you could use a little sun, you're beginning to look like a vampire."
As much as it pained me to admit it out loud, Cat was right.
I did need to get out (and not for pasty-skin related issues). Being outside or at least out of my museum of a house felt so much better than being locked away in my room and sobbing. Slowly but surely, I was beginning to feel better, and Beck was becoming just another picture to burn.
"How do I look?" Cat jumps in front of me wearing a pink cardigan with colorful butterflies stitched on it and a pair of oversized glasses that were sliding down the bridge of her nose, quite cutely. "Sexy librarian?"
"More like my grandma at one of her competitive bingo tournaments." I crack, ripping my gaze away from her, because she did in fact look like a sexy librarian and I was suddenly having very graphic images of me forgetting to return a book on time and the naughty consequences for it.
"Oh, poo," She pouts and then disappears again behind the rows and rows of various hand-me-down items that were for sale. "I thought I had something going there."
"Next time, doll." I call over to her, and take a minute to catch my breath and slow my racing mind before she pops out wearing a maid uniform and I jump her bones.
This has been happening ever since we left the house this morning. It's been happening ever since, as I was innocently cruising down the street in my car, and Cat, who should've been strapped in her seatbelt to the passenger seat, leaned over, and planted a quick kiss on my cheek.
It struck me by surprise, and I almost killed us both, swerving into the other lane.
"What was that for?"
"You needed it." Was all she answered, and then it was dropped, and she was rambling on about how her brother is thinking about adopting a rabid squirrel that he caught with his bare hands in their back yard.
Even though she acted like this was an everyday occurrence, inside my ribcage was humming, and my heart was beating a mile a minute. I had to grip the steering wheel tightly to even keep my sanity.
And the funniest part of it all? When she kissed me, I had the biggest impulse in the world to kiss her back. But I ignored it, because, well, that's weird.
Cat is a girl, and I'm sure as hell a female and two females can't like each other like that. I mean, they can, but I can't. I can't.
I'm Jade West, the straight girl. I like boys. I like penis.
So, if I'm so boy-crazy, tell me why it's taking everything within me to keep from kissing Cat?
Hola.
It's me, again. So, yeah. Here is chapter two.
I'm not really sure what to say. Reviews make me smile.
Bye.