"All I can figure is that either you're nursing a deep and sadistic self-hatred or else you're insane. I gave you the benefit of the doubt and left monumental stupidity off the the list."
—Thomas, Blood Rites (Jim Butcher)
Chapter Two: My First Day of Christmas Break
Robbie invited me over to his house for breakfast this morning, and I headed over thinking it was a great way to start my two weeks off of school. I couldn't have been more wrong—for one thing, I couldn't even look him in the eye anymore, not without thinking about the fact that environmentalist boy has an mysterious STD of some kind or another. Not the best thoughts to be thinking early in the morning, and they were only worsened when Roth decided to make an appearance at the breakfast table.
I had been in the middle of telling Robbie about your little journal idea, when Roth walked in, in only a pair of frown-y faced pajama bottoms. He yawned and ran a hand through his mused hair and nodded at both of us before heading towards the refrigerator. I was trying my hardest not to stare at him, while Robbie was looking at him openly.
"Dude, what happened to you?" he asked, his voice full of amazement.
Roth straightened and leaned against the fridge, taking a swig of orange juice right from the container, "Why hello to you too, little brother." Roth said, sounding a little groggy. "Whatever could you mean?"
Robbie motioned towards Roth's body, "You suddenly aren't disgusting to look at." He declared, and I stared at him in amazement—has he always been that rude? Or is it the fact that I know that he has a STD that is causing me to see him in a different light?
I turned to look at Roth, just in time to see that same uncomfortable look that he had on his face last night, cross his face again. It only lasted a moment, but it was humanizing on his part. He quirked an eyebrow and took another swig from the orange juice carton, "Gee, thanks for that." He muttered darkly and then opened the fridge door and put the OJ back.
"Seriously, what happened?"
Roth rolled his eyes and sat down at the table, "I'm going to give it to you straight, okay?" He whispered in a conspiratorial voice, "I...lost...weight." He said very slowly and then nodded his head, "Look, I don't expect you to get it on the first try, but at least tell me you're getting the jest of what I'm saying."
Robbie glared, "Don't be such a jerk, fats—"
Roth smiled mirthlessly, "Can't be saying that anymore, eh bro?" He climbed to his feet and laughed, "Though I suppose you can still call me 'four-eyes' if it makes you feel better." He glanced at me and then smiled, "Hey, Tameka Janelle, having a comfortable talk with my brother?" He asked and then leaned down close to Robbie's ear, "Hey, Rob, quick question—do you see Jane as a girl?"
Robbie rolled his eyes, "What is this, a trick question?"
Roth shook his head, "No way, little brother, this is an honest to goodness question—do you see her as a girl?"
"She's Janey." Robbie said as an answer and then turned and smiled at me, "You'll always be the girl I used to play in the mud with."
"So...she's basically sexless to you?"
Robbie stared up at his brother in confusion, "She's my best friend."
"Would you ever date her?"
"Are you kidding me? She's Janey!" Robbie exclaimed and then laughed, I laughed as well, seeing as he kept glancing over at me to make sure that I thought it as hilarious as he did. Roth, however, stared into my eyes as though he were trying to see something there. After the laughter died down, he yawned and shrugged his bare shoulders.
"Hmmm...and to think all these years I was seeing her as a girl." He sighed, "If only I had seen her as a sexless being, maybe we'd be as close as you two."
"Yeah right." Robbie said, chuckling, "You can't even say two nice things about her."
"Can't I?"
"No, I've never heard you."
Roth nodded and looked back at me, "Janey, you're a very interesting person—only a few times have I thought you completely crazy."
"What a compliment." I muttered, toying with my cereal.
"Okay, you want a real compliment?" He asked, "Fine, not only are you interesting, you're beautiful as well." He leered (what, that is truly the only thing you can say about some of his smiles, Mr. Abernathy), "Generic enough for you?"
Robbie stood up and took his bowl to the sink, "See, I'm telling you—you're no good at this. You can't insult a person in the middle of a compliment." He snickered and then glanced over at me, "I'll be right back, I'm going to go get dressed for the day." I nodded and he bounded up the stairs in the kitchen and headed for his bedroom. I turned to look at Roth to find him sitting on a counter top.
"He doesn't want you." He murmured, yawning.
"He just thinks that now." I whispered, seriously hurt by how Robbie had rejected even the thought of the two of us together.
Roth scoffed and hopped off the counter and sat down on the table right in front of me, scouting my cereal bowl away so that he didn't sit in it. "Do you seriously believe that?"
"Yeah." I answered, unnerved by how close me was...and the fact that his chest was right at eye-level, and I couldn't seem to stop staring at it. For some reason I wanted to touch the trail of dark hair that lead from his bellybutton down to the edge of his pajama bottoms. Wow, that area looked really muscular...it was way too tempting, and way too odd as well. Only last year he refused to even get into a pool without a shirt on. He would've never walked around with his chest on display then.
He laughed and I quickly brought my eyes up to his, "Do you think if you were totally in love with my brother and believed you had half a chance, that you'd be so bothered by me?"
"What?"
He smiled and I could feel the blood drain from my legs (that can't be a normal reaction, right Mr. A?), "Ever since the beginning of your infatuation, I've been able to push your every button—do you think that's normal?"
I'm sure, you (like me) totally thought he was talking about the way I kept checking him out, right? I can't help it, something is totally wrong with me. It is seriously making me feel unclean, like I need to bathe in holy water or something, because I have on more than one occasion, compared Roth to Rosemary's baby.
He ran a hand through his unruly hair and moved off the table, "Makes you wonder if you're really in love with him, doesn't it?" He whispered, heading for the stairs that Robbie had just bounded up. I watch him go in quiet surprise and then found myself looking at his muscular back, and the fact that he had a really tapered waist.
Wowza.
I so need to get a grip on myself. He comes back a little pretty and I turn into a hormonal idiot, how stupid am I, right? It's still the same jerky guy beneath all the sudden hotness, it's still the same mean jerk that used to use my Barbie's as "astronauts" (he'd strap them onto firecrackers and tell me that they were going to be the first women in space—how naïve I was then) and kept snapping the straps on my training bras. He is still Roth, and he is still into messing with my mind. I can't let the fact that he's sudden got the body of a Hispanic god get in the way.
Besides, no matter how many bad things I'm learning about Robbie, he's still the one with all of the personality in the family. Even if it is beginning to look a little like Roth's on a bad day. I still love Robbie, he's still the guy that I want to end up with.
With or without the sexually transmitted disease.
...My God, I don't want genital warts or herpes. Lord, what could it be?!
Alright, I've calmed down since this morning, and I feel like it's probably time to tell you what happened last week that was so embarrassing. I accidentally touched Robbie's butt...I know, it sounds weird and he probably didn't even notice it—I mean, he sat on my hand, it wasn't like I was grabbing him in the hallways or anything. The truly embarrassing part was that I didn't immediately snatch my hand out from under him, which had kind of surprised him a little. I tried to act like I didn't enjoy it, but I think I may have squeezed him a little.
There, that's my dirty little secret.
Man, I should've wrote that done on a note card...not that I'd think you'd get the reference...
Okay, so I get that I'm supposed to be analyzing my emotions and things like that, but I seriously, I do not know how to feel about this and it's one of the things that has been vexing me lately. However, I don't even know why I care—he certainly didn't notice...
Oh my God, what is wrong with this boy? Is he stalking me?!
As Roth pointed out to me (after so evilly ripping this notebook from my hands and reading my last entry) it's not technically stalking me, if I'm in my bedroom. I beg to differ, but I must admit that it isn't the first time he's been over here. He used to be here all the time (I think he had a thing for your girlfriend—make you feel like popping the question any sooner? Come on Mr. A, he's pretty now, what if Aunt Trish falls for him this time around?)...actually, I think he has a key to the place, to tell the truth. So, perhaps it wasn't technically stalking, but he has been showing up everywhere I've been lately...
Okay, so that can't really count either, seeing as the only place that I've been since dropping him off at home last night, was his house this morning. So, in that aspect, it looks a bit like I'm stalking him—which I'm not. I'm really not.
For he is Satan in human skin.
Anyways, the first thing he had to say (after explaining to me how he couldn't be stalking me) was such; "You're turn."
"My turn for what?"
He grinned and my legs did the weird blood draining thing again—and I was sitting down! "You're turn to say two nice things about me."
"I never agreed to those terms."
He laughed and walked around my room, picking up one of my teddy bears, and looking him over. "Okay."
I raised an eyebrow and hopped off my bed, taking Mr. Dorian from his grimy hands, "Okay?"
He nodded, releasing my bear. "Okay...tell me my you hate me."
"Who says I hate you?"
He sighed and looked up at the poster of Coldplay that I had hung above my desk, "A little birdie told me so." He glanced up, "Otherwise known as the absolute twit I call a brother."
"Robbie told you I hated you?"
"Like he had to, I'm not exactly anyone's favorite guy."
I know it sounds like he's trying to get me to pity him, or something like that, but believe me—that was not the tone of voice he was using. He wasn't speaking softly or acting as though he were admitting something that he had never talked about before. Mr. Abernathy, he definitely wasn't playing the role of the tortured/misunderstood guy from a romance movie. His voice was matter of fact, unapologetic, and a little bored.
Basically, the usual.
It's better than a monotone, I guess.
"Well, ever think that you should perhaps fix that?" I ventured, sitting down on my desk chair.
"Why would I want to fix it?" He asked, leaning against my desk, "Why would I want to act like a pathetic ninny, that has to have everyone loving them all the time? I'm not afraid to be hated, and I'm never going to feel bad about being honest."
I shifted uncomfortably, "Are you calling me a pathetic ninny?"
"If the shoe fits..." He trailed off and smirked, "See that? Not the slightest bit of remorse."
"Honesty is a required taste, and there's a difference between being honest and being cruel."
"There is." He replied, giving me a coy look, "I just choose to ignore it."
"So you like to be cruel?" I demanded, glaring at him.
He nodded and then pushed himself away from the desk, "I also enjoy messing with your mind, watching you fawn helplessly over my brother, knowing that Bush can't get back into office after this term, and..." He dragged the word out and smiled, "I love taking walks at midnight."
I rolled my eyes, "This isn't a dating service."
"Hmmm...dating service...maybe I should get you a membership to eHarmony for Christmas."
"And maybe I'll buy you Dante's Inferno for you—I'm sure you like to reminded of home."
He laughed, his eyes unguarded and full of good humor, "That was a good one." He replied, and my legs totally gave out beneath me.
I'm serious, Mr. Abernathy—I actually fell into a heap on the floor.
This can't be healthy, either it's a medical problem or a psychological one, because I know this isn't normal behavior. When a guy smiles, you're not supposed to lose all feeling in your legs. It's just...it's just not how the life goes...
Right, he gave me the oddest look and knelled down beside me, "Are you okay?" he asked, concern actually showing in his voice. I know that I most have gave him the weirdest look, because he leaned back away from me and frowned, "What's wrong?"
"N-nothing." I stammered, blinking and rapidly shaking my head, "Absolutely nothing is wrong...I've just lost my mind, is all."
"Okay..." He sighed and held out a hand, when I stared at it skeptically he rolled his eyes, "I'm not going to bite you."
"What are you doing then?"
"Offering you a hand up, it's what men are supposed to do."
"And how would you know that?"
He paused for a moment and then raised an eyebrow, "Okay, are you accusing me of not being a man or not being a gentleman?"
I shrugged, "Your pick."
His rolled his eyes heavenward, grab my arm, and wrenched me to my feet, "Whatever." He muttered and then walked towards my bedroom door, then he stopped and turned back around, looking at me expectedly. "Well, you didn't give me my two compliments."
"Because I'm not going to."
He nodded and leaned against the door frame, "Okay, then you can explain why you hate me."
"Who says I hate you?"
He gave me a knowing look, "Tameka Janelle, I'm not an idiot."
"Apparently you are, Roth Socorro, because you keep calling me by my full name, when you know I go by 'Jane'."
He smiled (my legs wobbled a little) and crossed his arms across his chest, "No, that's not me being an idiot, that's me enjoying your name."
"Excuse me?"
"Tameka Janelle...why on earth did you pick 'Jane' to go by?"
"Because..."
He took a step towards me, his eyes searching, "I have my theories, of course."
"Name one."
"Tell me why you hate me."
My eyes widened in surprise—I hadn't known that we were still on that. "Maybe I don't want to."
"For once in you're life, say something mean—say something honest and don't worry about the outcome." He tilted his head to the side, "Be like me, because I can promise you that I can take it."
I didn't doubt him...okay, maybe I did a little. For some reason I didn't think he was the type of guy that could take what he dished out. Why? I don't know, most guys that are complete jerks aren't able to take it when someone is a complete jerk to them—it's just how it goes.
"Fine..." I took a deep breath and then slowly exhaled, "You're mean, you're cruel, you don't care about anybody but yourself, you've always been mean to me, for some reason you can't stand your brother—which makes no sense to me, you don't care about anything, and...and I've seen you litter!"
He smirked and threw his hands up dramatically, "Oh, the horror!" He exclaimed and then glanced down at the ground, a thoughtful expression on his face. An expression that I immediately felt responsible for.
"I'm sorry—"
"—You're afraid that people will notice you, with a name like Tameka." He declared, cutting me off. "That's the scariest thing in the world for you, to be noticed." He brought his head up and held my gaze, "So scary that you hide behind a boring name, boring clothes, and the absolute cliché of being in love with your best friend—you're afraid to go out and try anything new."
He walked over to my open closet and pointed at some of the clothes that hung in there, "Look at the clothes that you're hiding in here—look at the person you're hiding in here." He glanced back at me, "My brother is just a front, you're standing in school is just a front..." His dark gaze was penetrating, "You're weird, Tameka Janelle, you just don't want to show it."
"I am not weird." I replied, glaring at him.
"Jane..." He sighed and ran hand through his hair, "There is nothing wrong with being different."
Robbie doesn't like different. Just thought I'd let you know that, Mr. A—you know all those kids at school with the multiple piercings and all? He makes fun of them ruthlessly. He also makes fun of the oddballs and screw-ups of our school, and thinks that all the pranksters should get a life. In Robbie's mind, everyone would be a lot better if they were like him—which is the truth...I guess...I mean, who doesn't want to be a Ralph Lauren model? Why shouldn't we all know about our environment or treat our bodies like temples? Why do we need to express ourselves? I mean, I've always been in favor of uniforms, perhaps we should all follow Robbie's lead and use him as the basis of a uniform.
Hey, with a great guy like him in charge, the world would be a better place. Or at least our little town would be...and then, perhaps the whole state of Indiana. Then, perhaps the country, and after that, the world!
"Being different is overrated." I whispered, hugging Mr. Dorian tight.
He gave me a long, hard look and then nodded his head, "So, my brother means that much to you."
"What?"
He smirked, "Hey, I've lived with the guy, I know how he feels about different. I know that it's a major turn off for him." He glanced away from me, instead directed his gaze out my window, "It's always been a major turn on for me, though."
Not exactly sure what to say to that, I kept quiet and gazed out the window as well; it was lightly snowing and a shrill wind was making the shutters on my windows rattle. I was so glad to be inside and yet at the same time there was nothing more than I wanted to do than to make a snow angel. Yawning, I rubbed my shoulders and glanced over at Roth, wondering when it was that he was going to make his grand exit, leaving me with a few choice words.
What? It's his style.
"How's your mother doing?" Roth asked out of nowhere, his eyes soft.
"She's okay." I whispered and then shrugged a shoulder, "She's in Jamaica now with Daddy number three."
"It really bothers you, doesn't it?"
I turned towards him, my already temper rising, "What, you don't think it should? Maybe if she was home once in awhile she could have raised me, instead of dropping me off on my aunt's doorstep and leaving for China!" I bit out (now Mr. A, you know that I love my aunt Trish—as much as you do, I'm sure—but I still sometimes wonder what it would have been like if my mother had decided to be a mother, you know? I mean, my dad walked out on me before I was even born and then my mom followed soon after him...sometimes I feel like I have no parents. Thank God I have Aunt Trish), my eyes flooded with tears.
"Of course it should." He said softly, staring into my tear-filled eyes, "Of course it should..."
"Sorry," I murmured, wiping my eyes, "Didn't mean to get emotional on you."
He chuckled, "For all the times I've unloaded my anger on you...well, let's just say you never have to apologize."
"Why did you use me as a scapegoat?" I asked, still rubbing my eyes.
"Because you're the only one that would ever listen." He smiled tightly and then glanced at his watch, "Well...I'd better get going—if I actually want to see my mother before Christmas, I have to be home in ten minutes. She's apparently heading off to Vermont for a few days." He closed his eyes and took a deep breath before opening them, "I'm sure I'll be running into you." He murmured and walked towards my door.
I sniffled and took a deep breath, "You're honest; you never tell a lie, you never play games, and you never sugarcoat things." He stopped within the doorway, but didn't turn around, and I took that as a cue to continue, "And you're not afraid of anything, or at least there's nothing that I've ever seen you back down to." I cleared my throat and fell onto my bed, "Those are my two compliments."
He nodded his head and then turned and look at me. He didn't say a word, he didn't even have a expression on his face, but I could feel the intensity of the moment. And then he turned back towards the hallway and walked out of my sight, and out of my home. For some reason, that made me feel a little empty—I don't know why. I thought he would change his mind and hash things out with me, or at least try to upset me again.
My Lord, when did the boy get so complicated?
It's hard to really understand him sometimes.
Well, it's nearing noon now, and you know what? I'm going to go make that snow angel.
A/N: Well, so ends Jane's first day of Christmas break—which I'll be experiencing this Saturday. (Joy!) Though hers is way more interesting than mine, I don't have any hot guys in my life. How...sucky... Anyways, welcome to a bit more insight on Jane's life and a softer side of Roth (I love him! Even though it's sometimes hard to figure out exactly how much he's willing to say sometimes, he's still intriguing to me...). Lord, I'm really enjoying writing this and I plan on doing a lot more of writing over this break—for some reason, this seems to be one of my easiest stories to write. Right, I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and thanks for all the reviews!
Thanks to the following for their reviews: Juniper Nights, Renzie, MysticalMaiden, Jesse Renee, Proxy-Wonker, Plinky, C.X. Blackfeather, rewind regrets, and rock'n'roll junkie—thank you all so much for reading me!