When everything goes wrong
Despite my mother's reluctance, I manage to escape from home earlier than expected - after all, Catherine was satisfied with the meeting with Mrs. Douglas, so she didn't find an excuse valid enough to forbid me from going out this evening as well.
So, after three bus stops and a few minutes walking, I reach the street where the Benton house is located and, in the air, I already smell the scent of the kebab that Charlie promised me. The aquolina fills the mouth and an immense smile appears on my face. There is a certain pleasure in knowing that I can be treated like a princess by a boy who does not want to try to take off my panties when the dinner is over.
I still make a few happy strides before appearing in front of the familiar blue curtained windows and, there, the mother of my best friend sees me from the kitchen. An enthusiastic expression appears on her round, freckled face and the hand begins to wave in greeting. It almost seems as if she hasn't seen me for weeks, when instead I was there only two afternoons ago, sitting at her dining table.
«Charlie! Jay has arrived! Get your ass out of that damned mattress!» She screams so loudly that her voice even pass the wood of the front door. So I find myself lowering the handle of the house while a movement of hilarity strikes me in the face. I wish I could hold back laughter, but the way Molly and her son communicate is one of the funniest things I've ever heard.
She, who normally appears as a sweet woman with swollen and rosy cheeks, turns into a sort of Marshal struggling with a very not so diligent cadet - and the doubt that she is affected by a split personality becomes real.
Mrs. Benton, who is at the base of the staircase leading to the upper floor, turns in my direction as soon as I appear on the entrance threshold, letting a sparkling breeze come in with me.
She looks at me softly, then runs towards me, grabbing my face in her hands and printing a warm, moist kiss on my forehead: «Look at this splendor!» she says, looking at the beauty of a girl she considers almost like a daughter - yes, because as every mother, even her would have so much wanted a female: instead Charlie happened to her, even if she doesn't complain more than the necessary.
I grab her hands: «Hi, Molly» and before I can add any question of circumstance, a young man's quick step catches our attention. A boy with tousled hair appears in my field of vision, yawning. Ripped jeans and skateboard in hand to complete the figure - the one I'm used to, now.
Quickly, he gives one last settled to the septum piercing he had and then, he raises his head on us, smiling both with his lips and eyes. Here is my best friend in all its beauty!
«Always bothering?» He asks his mother, passing by and hooking me by the wrist. I feel his grip tighten and, even before I can realize it, we are again away from the house entrance, at the total mercy of the mild September warmth.
His mother throws him some colorful comment, but he doesn't pay any attention to her, still showing off the eternal good humor that characterizes him so much until, having arrived next to his yellow beetle, he does open the door to me with a half bow: «Please, mademoiselle» says with a wink and, as soon as I sit down on the seat, turns to Molly, raising his arms to the sky - and the skateboard in tow: «See, mom? A perfect gentleman!»
The door closes between the collective smiles and in a hurry, here he is beside me, sitting in the driver's seat.
******************
Well, not even five minutes after leaving the street in which Charlie lives, his cell phone started ringing with extreme insistence, completely destroying the program we had decided to adopt for the afternoon and early evening.My kebab then turned into Seth Morgenstern.
As hypocaloric as tempting, what should have been my dinner can be compared to the third member of the clan created by Jace. Yes, because Seth has the incredible ability to increase the salivation of every single woman who crosses his gaze, including myself - and this can perhaps be summed up in one way: the bad boy. Wrong, just like the huge amount of calories I would eat by eating a kebab, yet extremely good.
And of course, like any female struggling with hormones that go crazy without logic, I wish I could take a bite, or two - let's say that even everything wouldn't be bad.
Charles snorts as he pushes a CD into the stereo, one of the multiple playlists made during the empty afternoons spent in the shop where he works and which I love so much to spend my time; and it must be emphasized that one of the things that most binds our group is precisely this: the passion for music, in particular if it belongs to some sub-genre of rock.
A song by Fireflight starts to fill up the cockpit, getting stronger and louder and overwhelming any other noise. Benton is the first to sing the tune, knowing it all too well and, after a few moments of embarrassment, I join him. Both disappointed by the missed dinner and the lost training sessions, we let ourselves go on the notes of the song, slowly regaining serenity.
Charlie laughs and looks at me, he likes to hear me out.
At the umpteenth traffic light, he puts the arrow and turns near the place where Seth gave us an appointment, still smiling for my terrible performance.
Our eyes begin to wander along the two sidewalks that are on opposite sides of the one-way street, desperately searching for the prince of stereotypes.
We stretch our necks and sharpen the view, then a familiar figure catches my attention. Jeweled hands move rebellious locks, a cigarette dangles dangerously from pale and narrow lips. Seth looks like the most obvious vision of a bad boy - and my stomach starts to twist in the belly.
Quickly I start turning the window crank and, in no time at all, I start waving my hand in greeting. The smile that appears to me, in conjunction with all this anxiety, is completely involuntary, yet impossible to contain, a pity that it withers on the lips so fast. Yes, because when our friend's eyes dart towards the yellow beetle, it is impossible not to notice an obvious nervousness.
Charlie pulls over, slides me onto the back seats and waits for the other with an expression that must very much resemble mine: what, or who, could have made Morgestern angry?
The interested person gets into the car slamming the door, throws out a whiff of white smoke and immediately bursts out: «I need to drink».
Benton draws his eyebrows closer: «Did you let me skip the skate park for this?»
Just a wrong tone to ruin the general mood.
«You just could tell me that you were busy»
«I thought you needed us!» The beetle starts up slowly, while Charlie gives his friend grim looks.
Morgestern gestures angrily and the ash from his cigarette falls to the edge of the door: «In fact, I need you to go drink. What the fuck is so difficult to understand?» The more the conversation goes on, the more his snout becomes threatening and I feel I have to intervene. I am not willing to let Seth and his bad temper ruins my Saturday afternoon, much less see him attack his best friend for totally futile reasons; but it normally takes very little to make him get mad. So, as soon as I hear the tones get up, I get in the way to keep them from kill each other - something possible, albeit unlikely.
«Can you tell us what the hell you're up against?» I ask the passenger, leaning between the two front seats. It takes me some effort to make this gesture, I know that by doing so I would be able to catalyze all his annoyance on me, yet it is the right thing to do: who would ever raise his voice with an innocent eighteen year old, especially if she was blood of the same blood with the boy who is considered as a brother? "Maybe he."
Seth snorts, turns to me with annoyance: «Can you tell me who asked you to talk?» His blue eyes seem to want to slap me, I can even see the hatred in his gaze.
And the stomach tightens again, but this time for other reasons.
«No one» I let my voice escape between the clenched teeth, partly offended; but I don't give up, I keep talking to him out of pure masochism - because only in this way we can define what drives me to do this madness: «It's just because Charlie and I were enjoying the afternoon, then you come with your stupid pout and messed up everything!» This time the tone is less calm, it is clear that his comment has touched my pride.
He laughs in front of my comment, uttering one of those laughter that smacks of ostentatious superiority. I see clearly, in this reaction of his, how much he considers me childish and naive, in comparison to himself.
The scratch becomes more and more like a groove; and I know that I shouldn't take it, that when Morgestern is in a bad mood he becomes an asshole in every way and that, for an emotional person like me, it's bad, and yet I can't avoid shrugging my shoulders - I just don't want neither to let him win, nor show him how much he affects my mood. But the crushes work like this: the attitude of one influences the other.
«Oh, poor thing! Did I ruin your date? Now what do you wanna do, go and cry at the big brother?»
Charlie nudges and tries to stop him, knowing what he's going to meet: «Stop it»he orders, but Seth is anything but domesticated, so he continues, unperturbed and smug in his moment of glory.
I already said I had a pretty morbid relationship with Jace, didn't I? Well, that also makes him my biggest weakness - and "he knows it", both know it.
«What a fool! You can not. He dumped you here to escape to Paris» and, like a true master of arms, he gives me the coup de grace, wounding me deeply. When he wants to hurt me he never makes mistakes, perhaps because I am a kind of open book to him, or because I am still too fragile to endure his wickedness.
I feel a mixture of anger and tears inflate my chest, while the desire to slap him on that pretty face becomes urgent, enough to make palms tingle. I bite my tongue with strength and the ferrous taste of blood begins to mix with the saliva and descend along the throat.
"I must get out of this cockpit", I miss the air and I may could do something I would regret.
«Stop the car» I command in a whisper to Benton, who tries to dissuade me from starting a scene - but nothing will prevent me from getting off the beetle, I want to put as much distance as possible between me and the one who dared to quote my brother, hit me, make me still feel too immature to deal with them.
«Jane...»
«Just stop it, good heavens!» I say one last time on the brink of tears. I therefore wait for the car to approach the sidewalk and then, like a splinter, I go down without saying goodbye.
Saturday night is officially ruined, "thanks Morgestern."