You wake up from every dream - Part One
To drag me out of the slumber of sleep is not the loving chirping of the nightingales, as one might think badly, but a few horns and curses that rise from the street to the living room window. It takes me a few moments to focus on the contours of the room, yet slowly everything becomes clear, together with a feeling I don't think I'm used to.
An arm surrounds me, it comes from beyond my shoulders, and the hand that is attached to it slips under the shirt, stroking the belly skin motionless. I feel Seth's boiling breath drifting from the nape of my neck on a part of the spine and, involuntarily, a shiver begins to run through it along its entire length, reaching up to the loins. As it passes from one vertebra to the next, my memory brings up the first images of what happened just a few hours before: his mouth that bites and chases mine, his fingers beyond the edge of the t-shirt and under the bra, the accelerated throbbing of his heart when I touched his jugular with the lips and... an emptiness assails me, my stomach seems to turn into a black hole at the thought of what followed - or could have after, since he wanted to stop in respect of someone or something that I still struggle to imagine.
A part of me, remembering the words he pronounced while moving me away from his boxers, cannot deny feeling hurt, another part, on the other hand, is almost relieved. As I said, I don't think I'm completely ready for this - moreover, even if I preferred not to confess to him, it seemed to me that fear and remorse were hidden between the shelves and the furniture, observing every touch and listening each breath a little more labored, spying on that intimacy that for the first time dared to overcome some limits.
Between one thing and another, the previous evening, the sofa was replaced by the carpet and to cradle us in sleep a blanket was added - and now I find myself completely wrapped. The fabric rests on bare legs, protects them from the cold and makes me understand that nothing of what happened belongs to a dream. This time my imagination has not created unlikely scenarios, what has been between us is so true that biting my lips I realize that I am still in fibrillation.
Perhaps there is a Prince Charming also for the most unlikely princesses.
A vibration, just beyond my head, distracts me from my thoughts capturing me completely. I recognize the sequence, it's my cell phone.
Instinctively I reach out to it, worried that the noise may wake Seth or that it is an important call from my mother, Jace, Liz or maybe Charlie who, finally, has decided to forgive me. With my fingers I press the table next to me and, wandering without logic on the wooden surface, I end up finding it a few moments later.
I grab it just in time, putting an end to the uproar.
Morgenstern moans, then sinks his face into the improvised pillow that are the pants we had on us before doing what we did. His hand presses on what remains of my abs, a mass of soft flesh that betrays my passion for sweets, and pushes me towards him - and turning my gaze slightly, I lose myself looking at him.
I would be lying if I said it is the first time I spy on him, just as I would tell a lie if I deny that I had never hoped to wake up like this: close to him.
How many evenings spent at the Bentons' house were my accomplices. How many times in my best friend's room, waking up in the middle of the night to change position, go to the bathroom or move Jace's arms, have I stretched my neck and observed this face surreptitiously. Too many, yet I've never done it so blissfully. Now nobody can discover me, nobody can mock me or be scandalized by these desires of mine.
But as on other occasions, I end up looking away.
Catherine claims my attention with grueling audio messages, just like my brother or grandmother Josephine.
The only one missing from the list, however, is the one whose name I most wanted to read.
**********
Miss Olimpia Sorrento, the stereotype of the chemistry teacher who seems to have inhaled too many harmful fumes and lost some neurons as a result of that, stares at me from the chair expecting me to answer her question, but I struggle to find the solution she seeks.I spent the weekend celebrating my eighteenth birthday with anyone who played an important role in my current existence, constantly basking in the memories of what I did with Seth - that's why, every time I tried to read the notes regarding Boyle's laws , I ended up getting lost in ecstatic seconds of complete nothingness. But I cannot afford yet another insufficiency, not when my love and social life is at risk.
If another bad mark were added to my school curriculum I would give Catherine a perfect deterrent to exile me into the four home walls that make up the Ravens' home - therefore, although I have no idea what is correct to say, I find myself digging between memories of previous lessons.
«It's a law... a law about gases».
«What gases?»
Panic.
«Nobles?»
Miss Sorrento sighs. I suppose it is the right answer, although it is difficult to understand it from that mischievous expression she has.
«And what does it mean?»
The desire to turn to some students is strong, but I desist from doing it - it would be a useless waste of energy, since none of them is magnanimous, altruistic or friendly enough to meet me in this moment of need.
«The relationship between... temperature and pressure» I try to say taking advantage of the fact that all the last lessons have dealt with the issue of lowering or raising temperatures towards the elements.
Once, or more precisely last semester, I had been good at keeping the average constant, but now with each new question I find myself less and less sure of my abilities.
«Only?» The teacher notes something in her notebook and anxiety becomes more threatening.
«No! No. Of course not» I sketch a smile, but I'm afraid it looks more like a desperate grin.
«Therefore?»
«The relationship between temperature, pressure and... v-volume?»
Finally she nods and a weight rises from my chest.
Thanks to heaven trudging is a technique that I do well, otherwise at this point I would have died at the hands of the woman who brought me into the world and who, in addition to me, has two other children who are all too diligent.
«Perfect, then write me the formula, Miss Raven».
From bad to worse, in short.
I turn to the blackboard with my stomach twisted in agitation, looking for a chalk with which to write something that is currently unknown to me - yes, because knowing the factors does not mean knowing how to assemble them.
So I try to waste as much time as possible, but in the end it is inevitable that I will escape the public humiliation that I will face by demonstrating my ignorance.
I squeeze my fingers around the white cylinder, place the tip on the dark plate and swallow hard. Did I really think karma would pardon me by giving me Seth and leaving everything else unchanged? Is my stupidity really so boundless?
I write the first abbreviation, I add an equal and, almost like a miracle, the bell rings just when I understand that I cannot continue. Of these mystical events, until now, I had only known about the existence in the show.
Quickly soak my grip on the chalk: «Good heavens, what a pity!» I say rubbing my hands to get the feeling of dirt off the fingers: «Is the hour already over? I really wanted to finish, Miss Sorrento, but I really have to run away. You know, I have mandatory commitments that are waiting for me».
«Jane, I warn you that we're not done here. For now I sign a scarce sufficiency, but next time we continue, do you understand?»
I do yes with my head, even if I'm already stuffing books and pencils into the backpack and I'm not interested in her future intentions: Caroline is waiting for me and I don't want to run the risk of getting entangled in a situation so compromising as to ruin my afternoon.
In the chaos of students who get up, allowing themselves comments and jokes about the school day just passed - and probably also about my performance during this unexpected interrogation - I wander among their bodies hardened by years of gym, classical dance or volleyball, looking as soon as possible for a way to escape from the prison which is Saint Jeremy.
There are only a few months left, I repeat to myself as I advance, then I can finally say goodbye to this place and to all the "pretty faces" who make it so distressing; yes, because if it were not for them and the obvious boredom of the teachers in carrying out their work, this school could even be acceptable, in my eyes.
I cross the threshold of the classroom with great strides, setting foot in the corridor almost as if I had entered the Garden of Eden - a pity that, unlike such an idyllic place, there is a rumor here that is so intense that it reminds me rather of an overflowing purgatory.
And the head, which had already taken pain during the lesson, seems to throb even more.
At the mercy of the headache, and too exhausted to fight it, I let the stream of students lead me to the stairs, then beyond the entrance door and, once I reach the sidewalk, I allow myself the luxury of a sigh.
It's over, and even today I survived.
I roll my eyes, bending the neck backwards and giving myself a new, liberating sigh. When I open the eyelids I discover the clouds above me moving slowly, they are pushed by the same light breeze that tickles my skin over the tights. I watch them wander in the blue like lost sheep, bringing with them the scent of spring.
It is a shame to have to deny myrself to such a beautiful day, to lock myrself up for most of the daytime within four oppressive walls and to listen relentlessly to the teachers' ramblings should be a crime to the whole student body - yet it seems almost nobody account.
«Jay!» Caroline's voice distracts me from the landscape, making me look down to the ground again. I see her approaching elbowing among the people, her lips curled in an annoyed grimace. In spite of being taller than me, her being so thin makes her go almost unnoticed in the crowd and, at times, observing her has something of a comedian.
I turn completely in her direction, waiting for her without taking a step and, when she finally escapes the mess created by our companions, she throws herself around my neck smiling.
«It seem I don't see you in a lifetime! You ignored me all weekend!» she mumbles behind my ear. She hugs me enthusiastically, perhaps hiding even a subtle revenge behind joy - and how can I blame her? I spent these days with everyone except her.
And Charlie, of course. However, unlike Benton, Caro replied to all my messages, she harassed me despite the distance and the commitments: he instead disappeared.
I laugh, pinching her side: «Since when did you become my girlfriend?»
«Ow!» She moans just before slapping my fingers: «I am your soul mate, not just any girlfriend!»
Crossing the arms over her chest, she turns the head, ripping off from me yet another smile with too much simplicity. Her being halfway between a little girl and a comedian always ends up making me thank the karma for having led her to me - because with her spontaneity she manages to cheer up even the most tense days. In short, Caroline is the friend I wanted for many years during the growth, the figure I longed to have next to me every time when things went wrong in the mystical girlish world in which I found myself.
She is a person who laughs at my terrible jokes, sometimes countering with even worse comments and, despite the few oddities that distinguish me, she never goes away.
And the time has come to introduce her completely to my reality, perhaps starting right from the one who, most of the time, takes me away from going out with her.
«Oh, you say? Then we should tell Seth about it, don't you think?»
The girl in front of me opens her eyes, her surprise is such that it seems to have arrived Christmas night: «You mean...? Oh god, really? I am about to know the humidifier of your pant-»I close her mouth before anyone can hear us. I would prefer to avoid that any of the Saint Jeremy ladies find themselves hearing such comments, after all they could use this information against me in almost unimaginable ways and, at the moment, I would like not to incur such events.
«If you dare to continue the sentence, no!» The redness on my face, however, could betray any attempt to hide the embarrassment, so I tug Caroline, going beyond the first available corner and praying to any divinity not to make the already frustrating situation worse.
«Please,» I urge my friend, «don't say certain things out loud, neither here nor in front of him».
«So will you introduce me?»
Her enthusiasm in repeating the question makes me suspect that she did not give any importance to the tone or meaning of my words, but the smile on her face is enough to make me sigh and give up. She seems to really care about this meeting, but I can't understand why. Curiosity? Latent neurons? Or maybe it's another of those things, unknown to me, typical of friendship between girls? I would like to know, too bad that in this area I have the same inexperience as love affairs.
«Promise me though» from the bottom of my meter and seventy very poor, I gave her a sinister look. I strongly doubt that innocent comments can come out of her lips, after all I have ascertained various things in these weeks: Caro is talkative, sometimes she doesn't even pay attention to what she says, appearing so infinitely sincere; she is bubbly, a bit like Jim Carrey in "The Mask", but she is also terribly good and affectionate. Her spontaneity on some occasions seemed difficult to manage, yet it is one of the things that I appreciated most about her.
She nods, broadening the smile: «I try, but I don't assure you of anything» she warns me, perhaps as conscious as I am of her very particular character and, before I can add anything else, she grabs me by the hand, walking towards a completely random point.
Should I tell her that our bus stop is on the other side?