The Understorey, Book One of The Leaving Series (11 page)

    I left my room and headed
down the back stairwell to the kitchen to put my mom’s phone back
on her charger. I finished my homework, ate dinner, talked and
laughed with my parents, even played with Maddy before I forced my
tired feet up the stairs and plunged into my sheets.
    “Today was a good day,” I understated. “A very
good day.”
The next day, we were barely able to speak during second period
because Mrs. Kitt was on to us. Mrs. Jacobs’ best friend. Enough
said. When class was finally over, I nervously walked two paces
behind Jules toward the door. Mrs. Kitt was watching us very
closely now and we tried to act as inconspicuously as
possible.
 “Stupid town and their stupid gossip. I know she’s just
itchin’ to call my mom,” Jules whispered under her breath to me
once we reached the end of the hall.
 “Let’s go to Thatcher’s after school, avoid prying eyes,” I
said joining her side.
She stopped short and I took a step back to join her. For a long
time, she hesitated.

“Please say yes. Don’t make me beg you
Jules,” I pleaded with a smile.

“Okay,” she leaned in and whispered back.

I could feel her warm breath on my neck when
she leaned in to my ear and shuddered at the tingle it gave me. She
never knew it, but in that moment I about said ‘screw it’, but when
I was close to dropping my bag and books and sweeping her into my
arms to kiss her, Mrs. Kitt walked by.

“You going to lunch kids?” she asked, eyeing
us gingerly.

You’ve just been saved Julia
Jacobs
.

We walked to lunch and entered the cafeteria
doors. As the daily custom now, all eyes shot our way.

“Wanna’ sit with me and Jesse and the rest of
the team? A change of pace?” I asked.

“Absolutely not,” she laughed.

“Why not? They don’t bite.”

“Yeah, but I might.”

“Oh whatever Jules. Come on. You might like
them.”

“Yeah, the guys would probably be polite, but
the cheerleaders won’t. They hate my guts.”

“I don’t think so Jules. You’re imagining
things.”

“No, I’m not, but if you
really
want
me to, then I will, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. Just pay
attention to how Taylor Williams and her
comrades
act toward
me.”

“What did she do?” I asked, finally feeling
safe enough about us to pry.

I knew how awful Taylor Williams could be.
Over the summer, she called me like fifty times to see if I wanted
to go to the movies but I was about as interested in that as a cat
is in his bath. She was foul. A true sociopath. She constantly
gossiped, was cruel to people who she thought were beneath her and
was about as intelligent as the lemming she so eloquently
emulated.
    “Don’t you remember that awful fight we got in
to last year in art class?” She asked in disbelief.
    “No,” I honestly said.
Whenever Taylor’s name was brought up around me I’d phase out,
uninterested.
    “Well Taylor
accidentally
,” she finger
quoted, “poured an entire can of blue paint on the piece I was
working on for my final project. It also got all over me but when I
got up from my stool, dripping in paint, she started to apologize.
I thought it was an accident until I saw her wink at me behind Mr.
Stewart’s back and all her little followers started laughing at
me.

So, of course, that’s when I snapped. I had
spent over thirty hours on that painting. I started to confront her
but Mr. Stewart stopped me and sent me to the Principal's office. I
almost got suspended because of her.”

    “Jules, I had no idea.
Don’t tell me any more stories of her being mean to you. It makes
my blood boil. How about this? Let’s just stay at the far end of
the table with the guys, away from the girls.”
    “I’m not afraid.”
    “Of course you’re not Jules. I only suggested it
because
I
was afraid for Taylor Williams.”
    “You can take an interest in her well being, do
you?”
    “Jealous?”
    “Absolutely not.”
    “Your hand tells me otherwise.”
She yanked her hand away.
    “Come on Jules. I have absolutely no interest in
her well being whatsoever, but if you gave her a black eye, then
she’d attack you in retaliation and then I’d have to punch a girl
for attacking you. I’d forever be known as that jerk who punched a
girl. Plus, we’d both get detention, possibly suspension. I’m just
not at all eager to spend the first few days I’m getting to know
you again under adult supervision.”
    “Really? Hmm. Maybe you do have ulterior
motives.”
    “Does it feel like I have ulterior
motives?”
    “No.”
    “Then, come on!”

I dragged her to the three rectangular tables
pushed together and ten of the guys from the team made room for us.
We dragged two chairs together and sat at the end cap. Taylor and
her idiot followers began to roll their eyes before we even sat
down and immediately all five bent in to talk about us. The guys
were, at first, pretty aloof, engrossed in a story of how David,
our tight end, spent the summer on the coast of North Carolina with
his aunt and all the girls that inhabited the beach there. When
David was finished they all sat back in their seats and finally
took note of us. Really, they took note of Jules.

    “Well looky here Greg,”
said David, slapping Greg on the shoulder, “Gray’s got himself a
lunch date. Nice of you to finally join us Gray.”
They all laughed, including us.
    “Shut up David,” I playfully joked back, “at
least she’s a real person, unlike the ones you probably just made
up from the summer at your aunt’s.”
    “Ohhhhh!” All the guys chimed at once.
    “Okay. Okay, Elliott!” Said David, his hands up
as if surrendering. “Obviously your love life is something we’re
not allowed to talk about and you,” he pointed to all the guys at
the table, “I’ve got pictures. Just wait until tomorrow. I can’t
wait to see you all fall to your knees at the hotness that was
those girls. Just wait!”
    “Oh, we’re not together,” said Jules
unexpectedly.

I couldn’t believe she said that. My mouth
fell slack and I felt the heat starting to creep into my cheeks.
Another “Ohhhhh!” leaked out of the guys.

    “You got just burned
Gray!” I barely heard Kyle say.
    “At least........not
yet
,” I said,
smiling at her.

She smiled back and everyone started
laughing, except Jesse, who just shook his head. Taylor shot up and
ran toward the exit, her cronies in tow. I didn’t think she was
even listening, but her quick dramatic exit was all the proof I
needed. The guys barely noticed her, tired of her drama, and began
talking about David’s summer of girls again.

    “Uh oh,” whispered Jules,
only to me, “I think we offended Taylor.”
    “Don’t worry about it,” I said.
    “How could I not?” She replied. “Everyone knows
Taylor Williams is in love with you.”
    “No!” I said emphatically. “You’re wrong. She
only
thinks
she’s in love with me. She just wants what she
thinks I am.”
    “And what’s that?”
    “Her ticket to prom queen.”
    “Oh,” said Jules.
She bit her lower lip to keep from laughing.
    “Shallow right?” I asked.
Jules became serious.
    “A bit, but more sad than anything else. Imagine
if she spent as much time and energy as she wastes on the
unimportant doing something that could improve her mind. She could
be extraordinary if she wanted to be.”
    “You give her more credit than I do Jules.”

Jules took a spoonful from her pudding cup. I
was impressed with Jules at that moment. Even with the cruelty
Taylor threw her way, Jules still thought she was salvageable. I
added gracious to the never ending list of amazing things I thought
about her.

    The bell rang and I picked
up Jules’ bag for her and carried it to class.
    “I like talking to you Jules. It’s easy,
natural.”
    “It might help that we used to go fishing for
tadpoles as kids on the creek and play king of the mountain on the
giant rock bridge.”
    “No, I don’t think that’s it,” I said, walking
to our class. “I think it’s because we think alike.”
The bell rang after third period.

“Hey,” I said, “meet me at my truck after
school? I’m in lot B.”

“Okaaaay,” she sang.

“You said you’d come Jules.”

“I know. I’ll be
there.”   

When school let out, I hauled out to my truck
and the sight of her stopped me in my tracks. I clutched at my
heart. She leaned her back against the passenger side door, her bag
already in the back. Her hair blew in the wind and her shirt clung
to her figure, accentuating how feminine she truly was. She had
both her hands in the front pockets of her jeans.
Ugh, You’re
killing me Jules
. She was the most beautiful girl in the entire
world, ironically in its smallest town. Although it only had four
hundred and fourteen people in residence that wasn’t what made it
the smallest town. No, what made it the smallest was the
overwhelming invasion of privacy from the entire population. It was
like we had three hundred mothers and fathers keeping track. If you
did something naughty, the second it was done someone was calling
your mama or your dad and by the time you got home your punishment
was waiting for you.

Jules and I lived in the city of Bramwell,
fifteen minutes southeast of the city of Bluefield where we all
went to high school, in the beautiful state of West Virginia.
Thatcher’s, along with many other little businesses, resided on
Main in Bramwell’s business district. It was a sleepy little town
with one market, a depot for the steam train, and one little post
office, run by two employees; one to man the desk, and the other to
deliver. Gus and Gertie, a married couple. Gertie manned the desk
and Gus delivered. But Gus and Gertie, in reality, owned two jobs.
Their second job, as the town gossips, they weren’t paid for, at
least not in the traditional sense. They were compensated in other
ways, I’m sure, and since their side business was to know everyone
else's, that’s where people went to get wind of any scandals or
rumors floating about town.

People stopped by there like gossiping was on
their ‘to do’ list, right next to shopping at the market and paying
the water bill and it wasn’t surprising at all to see through the
window that afternoon all the little housewives huddled around
Gertie’s desk, chattering and wide eyed. There were a few more
wives than usual on account it was the day before our first game
and apparently there were things that needed to be talked about.
Our town was obsessed with our high school’s football team. They
sat at the edge of their seats all summer waiting for the first
season’s game.

If I had been smart, or patient, I would have
done what the few kids in our town who were actually dating each
other knew to do and that was to go to Charleston. No one could pry
into your fledgling relationship if they didn’t know about it,
right?

You see, Bramwell was the kind of town where
the parents had nothing to do but become obsessed with their own
children. Living vicariously through their football playing and
cheerleading offspring but there was only one diner in the whole
damn town and it was a school night so we weren’t allowed to stay
out late and I definitely wasn’t going to wait until the weekend to
take her out since Friday night was the game and Saturday was too
far away.

I felt confident that if I asked her about
our lightning bolt, she might stick around this time. We’d been
avoiding the matter entirely. Granted, the subject wasn’t exactly
school appropriate because people were really good at eavesdropping
on us. I knew this because I’d get a full on angry report from
Jesse later, on what Taylor thought of things we did or didn’t say
to each other. So basically,  you can see I didn’t really have
a choice.

It didn’t help much that Julia wasn’t your
typical Bramwell resident. While the other girls were painting
their nails and practicing their hurkeys, Julia was painting a
canvas and practicing her  guitar. For this, she was
considered the moody and pensive outcast, but she didn’t care. I
loved this about her because she had the guts to stand out amongst
the ‘cookie cutters’, at least that’s what she called them, and I
didn’t.

While we drove to Thatcher’s, we stayed
perfectly quiet the ride there. I think it may have been the
anticipation of the conversation about our grossly intense
lightning bolt that unsettled us or maybe it was because we weren’t
officially dating and I didn’t know how Jules felt about that after
today’s denial of it at lunch. Personally, I was more scared of
what the lightning bolt actually meant as opposed to the bolt
itself. I could handle Jules’ denial of me. That was a piece of
cake in comparison.

As we drove, I followed a bead of sweat
dripping down Jules’ neck. It was starting to stifle inside the
cab. It was an unusually warm day in September and my truck had no
air conditioning, so we rolled down the windows and I stared as her
long hair lifted and dove with the breath of the wind. Smiles were
the only form of communication we held and if my dashboard had been
a confessional, it would have known we were promised to be thick as
thieves.

Thatcher’s seemed pretty busy. I hopped out
and ran to the other side of the truck to open her door for her. I
took her hand and the cindery flash shot up both our arms. I let go
and she looked at me, paralyzed. It was warmer, brighter. When I
smiled, she caught it and I could see all the muscles in her body
relax at once as she took the same hand I had previously offered
yet again.    

When her hand cupped with mine, there it was,
that same shocking voltage, but this time, it was no longer
alarming. The spirited force ignited the muscles in our fingers,
hands, and arms. It continued through our shoulders and necks. I
felt it in my ears, eyes and even tasted it on my tongue. Its
bitter alkaline smacked of one of the best flavors that had ever
passed my lips, at the time, because I had yet to kiss Jules. We
stood with our hands locked for at least five minutes, enjoying the
current, not wanting to let go, ever.