Ink & Interruptions

Hey lovely readers!

It’s been a minute—or, okay, three weeks—and I’ve missed this little corner of the internet. School started back up for me, and I’ve been drowning in the ocean of student emails and class prep (send help). But I’m back, and so are Evie, Jenna, and Henry!

Thanks for being patient while I wrestled with words and life (mostly life). Your support means more than I can type. So, without further ado, grab a snack, settle in, and let’s pick up where we left off.

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            I glanced in my rearview mirror for the fifteenth time in as little as ten minutes. Jenna was still there—perfectly poised and polished as her vehicle trailed behind mine. I watched her lips move in sync with whatever was playing on her radio; her fingers tapping against the steering wheel as her head bobbed. How was she this relaxed? Oh, yeah, probably because it wasn’t her life that was currently on a collision course. I sighed as I let off the gas pedal, my car slowing as we came into town.

            As I turned onto Main Street my car felt like it was made of slime—oozing out in one direction and slowly pulling itself up behind only to move a fraction of an inch forward again. Each building stretched into the next as time seemed to slow beside them as I drew closer to The Nook. Jenna had raved about this place. Something about having the perfect balance of mainstream and cozy. I honestly hadn’t heard too much more as each comment was punctuated with another article of clothing she wanted me to try on.

             I’d been satisfied with the third outfit, but she claimed something was off with the top, so it was back to the drawing board. By the time she was ready to attack my hair, I was beating her off with my hairbrush—determined to cling to some part of my own identity, which is exactly how I ended up fighting the rising hem of my black crewneck t-shirt dress all while the top of my messy bun skimmed the roof of my car.

            I wasn’t sure if I’d ever worn this dress. I bought it in a moment of insanity. I’d been focusing on appreciating my body due to some rambling dialogue I’d read in my daily affirmations when I’d stumbled upon it on the clearance rack. I typically opted for loose fitting clothes, but I was supposed to be embracing my curves and, and, and, so I’d tossed it in the basket and pushed it between my other groceries.

            I’d avoided eye contact with it as it glided across the conveyor belt and had practically drilled a hole into the payment kiosk as I waited for the cashier to announce my total. I could do this. I could buy the dress. I deserved to wear what I wanted to regardless of anyone’s opinion of my body. My mind chanted over and over again as I slipped my card into the machine and finalized the purchase. Two days later, I’d gotten the call about the job at the high school, and the dress had been forgotten in the recesses of my closet.  

            Jenna had been the one to call me and tell me that I’d been selected for the position. I’d barely registered her voice or placed who she’d been during the interview process. All I’d heard was that I had a job—I had officially done it. I’d started my adult career, and all by myself. After a moment of celebration, I realized my only professional outfit was the one I’d completed the interview in. I debated whether I should ask my mom to come with me, but all the words I’d said still cluttered the floor of my house—each one tripping me as I reached for my phone, so for the first time in my life, she wasn’t there. I was alone when I dug through the racks of clothes. She wasn’t there to whisper that I was wonderful, that she wished she had my curves, that she knew me better than I knew myself as she shoved me into dressing room after dressing room, arms full of clothes.

            Her voice seemed to drift in through the car vents alongside the air that rushed over my skin.

            “Evie, honey, please come out.”

            “Mom, I’m telling you. I look horrible.”

            “You do not. I’ve yet to see a single piece of clothing that looks awful on you.”

            I yanked the door open an inch—my eye filling the slit. “Oh yeah? What about that yellow, taffeta dress I tried on for Easter dinner three years ago?” I cocked my eyebrow.

            She waved her hand at me. “No one looks good in taffeta—let alone yellow taffeta.”

            I sighed as I shut the door again. “Cate Blanchett does.” My mom’s crisp laughter squeezed itself into the fitting room. “What?” I asked. “She did.”

            “That’s right. A famous actress who wore a designer dress looked good in what is known to be a very stiff fabric, but you’re right.” I pulled the door open again—this time fully displaying the outfit she’d chosen for me. “She did look fabulous just like you do.” She squealed as she ran up to me, forcing me to spin like I was wearing a grand ballroom gown instead of just trying on clothes for another school year.

            My mom’s voice swirled around me—each whisper mingling with the heat in the car and coating my skin like a familiar blanket. I was clinging to her voice and the comfort of it when a horn blared from behind me. I looked in my rearview mirror, jerked from my thoughts, heart racing as my grip tightened around the wheel. Jenna was stopped in the road with her left blinker flashing as she waited to turn into the parking lot. I quickly waved my hand in the mirror and flipped my blinker on before turning onto the next street to work myself back around the block and towards the restaurant.

            I pulled into the parking lot and found Jenna leaned against her car. She sent me a quick wave and pointed at the empty space beside her, and then to my horror, she held her hand up to the side of her face and pointed across the parking lot. My eyes followed the imaginary line that shot out from the tip of her finger all the way to Henry’s green truck. I felt my pulse quicken and heat race up the back of my neck. My only saving grace was that the cab was empty which meant he was already inside. Thank God. I thought as I worked my car into the parking space beside Jenna.

            She pulled my door open as I turned the key and slid it out of the ignition switch.

            “I thought you said you knew where we were going?”

            “I did. I do. I just…” My words trailed off as I leaned over to grab my purse and jacket from the passenger seat.

            “Ugh. Not more of your secret stuff.” Jenna rolled her eyes and moved away from my car towards the walkway leading up to the front door. “You’re either going to have to keep a firmer lid on that stuff or develop looser lips because this ‘off limits’ stuff just isn’t my style.”

            “Okay.” I shut the door and slipped my arms into the cropped leather jacket Jenna insisted I wear. “I missed the name of the guy who convinced you to move here.” The corner of my mouth ticked up in a smile as Jenna pressed her lips together.

            “Fine. Secret stuff is fine.” She looked over my outfit, her eyes pinning to the bun resting on my head. “You know, I don’t think I hate it. It gives you this sort of…” She placed one hand on her hip and used the other one to gesture down the length of my body. “I don’t know like this kind of hot grungy but still kind of classy vibe.”

            My eyebrows pulled together as I shouldered my purse and moved towards her. “Is classy grunge even a thing?”

            “Honestly, I’m working with an amateur.” She forced out a sigh before looping her arm through mine and pulling me along as she approached the front door.

            My eyes snagged on the contact between us, the pressure of her arm causing my mind to tangle into knots. Then as though my mind had finally processed the words from earlier, “Wait.” I tugged on her arm, the motion bringing her to a stop with me. “Did you just call me hot?”

            “Technically, I said the outfit was hot.” Her eyes lit up as her mouth twisted into a smirk.

            “Oh, good,” I said keeping my tone flat and pulling my facial features tight to match. “I almost thought we were friends for a second.” I slipped my arm from her and walked past her.

            “Evie,” her voice dragged out the syllables as she caught back up to me. “Don’t be so dramatic. You know you’re hot.” She laughed. “Why do you need to hear it from me?”

            Her words felt wrong—like a hair clip missing all of the middle prongs, still able to open and close but not strong enough to keep all the hair in place. She’s kidding, right? What about the comments at school? The looks? Was she jealous of me? I glanced over at her, she was still chattering, but all the words were muffled as I watched her. “You’re a freaking superstar.” Her words from this morning swirled in my mind, blending with these. How was this possible? Jenna vs Me? She always won. Always. Right?

            As my mind worked to put together the puzzle that Jenna was quickly shattering into, I noticed we were standing outside the front door, Jenna staring at me. Oh, crap.

            “You did it again.”

            “Did what?” I asked as innocently as I could.

            “You weren’t listening.”

            “I was too.” As soon as the lie slipped out, I regretted it. I felt the question before it left her mouth.

            “Really? Okay, what did I say?”

            “Okay, fine,” I said crumbling under the weight of her stare. “I wasn’t listening. I just…well, I was thinking.”

            “About?” Her eyebrow kicked up.

            I shrugged. “Secrets,” I said with a small smile.

            She sighed. “Okay, for this time, but seriously, that cannot become a thing.” She swung the door open and walked inside, and I felt my mouth begin to water as my nose sorted through the smells of bacon, eggs, and the sweet, sticky scent of syrup. We shuffled towards the host stand, both of us scanning the room for Henry.

            “Hey.” His voice came from the right side of the restaurant, and I tracked my eyes over the red upholstered booths until they landed on him. He had a baseball cap on, casting a slight shadow across his face and muting the green in his eyes. I waved and began to navigate myself through the tables and chairs; Jenna following close behind.

            As we drew closer, his eyebrows knitted together slightly, but by the time we were sliding into our side of the booth, he’d smoothed back out his features.

            “You look great.” He said as he met my eyes. My mind went blank as I fumbled for a response.

            “I told her that earlier.” Jenna’s voice cut into my thoughts. “But she kept fighting me about it.” She scooted closer to me in the booth. This woman has got to read a book or something on personal space. “I practically had to shove her into her car to get her to leave with it on.”

            “Really? Well, that sounds fun.” His voice was stiff as he glanced between Jenna and me. What’s up with him? It’s Jenna. We all ate together the other day. As the final words trickled across my mind, I realized I never told him Jenna was coming. I hate myself. Oh, God. Heat flooded my skin, causing my cheeks to burn and sweat to pool along the edges of my hairline. I cannot believe I forgot to text him. Crap. Crap. Crap.

             “Um…yeah…well we just…” My words poured out of me. Each one dropping in the space around us like a rock thrown in the river—plunk and then a ripple of silence. Plunk. Plunk. Plunk. Jenna and Henry were staring at me as I sent more stones to the bottom of the river. “I, well, we, yeah, we. We just thought we’d get together this morning and finish.” My eyes cut to Jenna, pleading with her to step in. Use whatever weird social superpower she had that allowed her to seamlessly blend into every conversation.

            “Yesssss.” She said, as she picked up on the panic that was pouring out of me. “We wanted to finish our conversations from dinner, seeing as Evie had to leave early.”

            I felt my shoulders detach from where they hovered beneath my ears—the tension moving down my neck and settling in the space between it and my spine, promising to reappear at a moment’s notice.

            “Oh,” Henry eased back into the booth, dragging the menu that rested in front of him closer. “Evie did, but we didn’t.” He said, shifting his eyes to Jenna’s.

            “Mmhmm.” She nodded, the movement easy and smooth. “Buuuut Evie did. Which means I didn’t get to hear all of her stories. Hence.” She gestured around the table before snagging her own menu from the table and flipping it open in front of her.

            “Wait, I thought you were best friends?” He cocked an eyebrow, but I couldn’t tell if it was suspicion, amusement, a mixture of both.

            Whatever it was, caused the tension to begin to work its way back up my neck—each passing second sending it another inch higher.

            “Evie, did you tell Henry I was your best friend?” Jenna spun towards me, mock surprise making her voice pitchy, but the thrill of it caused sparks to explode in her eyes. Is she crazy or a mastermind? How has she simultaneously rescued and ruined me in the span of three sentences?

            I rolled my eyes at her before turning to face Henry. “It’s in the early development stages.” I shot Jenna a glare. “Clearly, I was still half asleep when I used the words ‘best friends’ earlier.”

            Jenna placed her hand over her heart again like she had in the kitchen, and Uncle George flashed through my mind once more. The sight of him made pain radiate through me.

            “I’m sorry, guys. Just one second.” I pulled my phone out, my fingers racing across the screen as I sent a text message to Uncle George asking to visit. I pressed send and sighed as the pain receded. I looked back up at the table. “Sorry. I just didn’t want to forget.” I slid my phone back into my purse.

            “She’s pretty bad about that.” Jenna closed her menu. “She forgets to listen to me all the time.”

            I rolled my eyes. “I’ve done it like twice. I wouldn’t say that’s all the time.”

            Jenna opened her mouth to respond, but Henry’s soft laugh cut her off. We both turned to face him.

            “You guys are weird.”

            A laugh burst from me. “You have no idea.” Jenna laughed softly before standing up from the table.

            “Bathroom break.”

            “What?” Shock rolled across my body.

            “Be right back, promise.” She winked and then spun on her heel and moved towards the back of the room.

            Silence engulfed the table as I shifted back into the booth, twisting my hips as the leather squeaked beneath me.

            “Sooo…” Henry’s voice floated across the table, and I lifted my head. “You and Jenna?”

            I shifted my eyes across the restaurant, watching as the bathroom door swung shut, a wave of exhaustion rolling through my body. “Yep. Jenna and me.”

            “You’re friends? Like actually?” His eyebrows shot up.  

            “It would appear so.” I shrugged, the motion causing the leather jacket to stick against my skin. The contact was a magnet, drawing my attention to the heat in the restaurant and the trickles of sweat that were beading up along my arms.

            “Wow.”

            “What?” I asked as I began to work my way out of the jacket, careful not to make it look like I was peeling the fabric from my skin.

            “I don’t know. I just, well,” he ran his hand through his hair, “I thought she was lying to be honest.”

            I slipped the rest of the way out of my jacket, laying it down in the booth next to me. “Huh?” I twisted to face him. “Lying?”

            “My first day at the school. She told me you guys were friends when she asked me out.” He shrugged his shoulders before letting his gaze fall back to the menu. “I guess I just didn’t think it fit.”

            “And why not?” The question was out before I processed the words. What am I doing? We don’t fit.

            Something in my tone must have sounded off because he pulled his eyes from the menu. “Well, she’s her,” he shifted his eyes around the space between us, “and you’re…well, not like that.”

            “Like what?” I pinched my eyebrows together, feeling the skin between them wrinkle and pull together.

            “No. Nothing bad. It’s just—she’s just,” he gestured vaguely toward the back of the room, “and well, you’re…well…” His hand traced an invisible line along the frame of my body.

            “I’m sorry?” Be rational. This is Henry. Henry—the boy from high school, the one who drew circles on your back and swore they were triangles. The boy who asked you to dance and still smiled Monday morning, even though our hearts had been swept into a pile in the corner of the gym. This is Henry. Breathe.

            He let out a sigh—his hands falling to the table. “Nothing is coming out right,” he said around a chuckle. “Can I start again?”

            The tension that had been creeping up my neck eased as I watched his mouth form a smile. “Please do.” I sat back against the booth, mindful to keep my arms in my lap instead of crossing them in front of my chest. This is Henry. Be quiet, Evie. Stop being a psycho.

            I had no idea why I felt defensive. Why did it feel like it was me and Jenna against the world instead of me and literally anyone else? Of course he didn’t believe Jenna when she said we were friends. We weren’t.

            Up until 24 hours ago, I had been two conversations away from physically hiding from her at school. And now? I take offense at the suggestion that we can’t be friends—that somehow we don’t line up enough for a friendship to work. You need to chill out. I took a settling breath and worked to soften my face, pushing my eyebrows back into my forehead as I focused on what Henry was saying.

            “Jenna just seems like she would have run in a different crowd in high school.”

            I blinked several times, processing what comparison he was trying to make. “Different from you? Me?”

            “You. She isn’t who I would pick for your friend.”

            “Oh? And you know me that well?” My mouth quirked up at the side as I felt myself settle into our routine.

            “I mean I did.”

            “I don’t know if you’ve checked a calendar lately, but we’re about, ooooh, I don’t know, a couple of years past high school.”

            “Only a couple?” He chuckled, but the sound came out in a nervous rush.

            “So, what crowd?”

            “Huh? Oh, um, to be honest,” he paused and glanced down at his hands. “Kyle’s.”

            What? Kyle? Kyle’s crowd was my crowd. “Do you remember high school?”

            “Yes, I do. Certain parts better than others,” he smiled as he caught my gaze, “but for the most part yeah.”

            “Well, Kyle’s crowd was my crowd.”

            “Was it?”

            His question caught me off guard, the shock of it dragging me back through time, throwing my mind into the body of sixteen-year-old me stuffed between cheerleaders as I rode the bus with Kyle to his first high school away game.

            Aunt Julia had petitioned the principal to allow me to go even though I wasn’t on the girls’ team or a cheerleader. I’d begged Mom to get her to stop, but we all knew there was no stopping Aunt Julia when she set her mind on something.

            “Destiny, look!” The blonde girl sitting beside me screeched in my ear while shoving her arm across my lap and dropping her phone into the hands of the girl to my right. “Can you believe he sent that?”

            “Are you sure this is his number?” Destiny was scrolling back through the messages.

            “Absolutely. Why?”

            “I don’t know. This doesn’t sound like something Chris would send.”

            “You’re jealous,” she said as she reached over me again and snatched the phone back, “and it is not a good look.”

            “I’m not jealous! Show Evie.” My head snapped up from the downward angle I’d been holding it in as I tried to slowly flatten myself out against the bus seat’s brown, cracked leather. “Do these messages sound like Chris?”

Destiny reached across me and jerked the phone out of Brooke’s hands, shoving it into mine seconds later.

            “Chris would never say ‘I can’t talk to you at school. We don’t want the other girls jealous.’” Destiny rolled her eyes. “And even if this was Chris, are you actually falling for that?”

            I glanced over Brooke’s head desperately searching for Kyle. He was supposed to sit by me, but somewhere between loading up the gear and boarding the bus, I’d been shoved between the co-captains of the cheer team due to some urgent team meeting the guys needed to have.

            “Well, Evie?” Destiny’s clipped voice brought my mind back to what had to be the third ring of hell.

            “Which Chris is it again?” My voice felt like wisps of air as I pushed the words out.

            Brooke heaved a dramatic sigh. “Have you not been listening at all?” She slid out of the seat and gestured for me to follow before she slipped past me and plopped back onto the bench, the movement making Destiny and me bounce slightly. “I mean if you aren’t even going to listen why sit in the middle.” She turned around—a wall forming between me and whatever world I had just been kicked out of.

            Kyle’s laugh bounced off the walls of the bus, drawing my attention away from the girls who were now whispering furiously at one another. He was tossing a foam basketball back and forth across the aisles. Each toss narrowly missing someone’s head as it soared into the hands of one of his waiting teammates.

            “Some meeting,” I muttered, as I slipped my phone out of my pocket and texted my mom.

Me: I feel like I’m going to throw up. Please come get me.

Mom: Are you sure? It’s Kyle’s first big game, honey.

Me: Mom, trust me. Please.

Mom: I’ll be there. Julia will not be happy though.

Me: Sorry. Thanks.

            My stomach twisted as I put my phone away. Aunt Julia would be furious—but at least I had a lifeline.

            Well, I did. The thought yanked me back to the present. I had no idea where Mom and I even were after lunch yesterday. Were we on speaking terms? Back to the silent treatment? I just needed to text her—rip the bandage off. It would sting for a little while, maybe puff up and flare red, but then it would go back to normal. I needed normal right now.

            “Hey, I’m sorry.” Henry’s hand pressed into mine. I wasn’t sure when I moved, but I was now leaning over the table. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

            “No, it’s okay.” I huffed out a breath of air. “I think you’re right.”

            “But hey opposites attract, right?”

            My head shot up, but the sincerity in his eyes caused me to burst into laughter.

            “Oh, shit. Evie, I’m so sorry. I don’t know what I was thinking.”

            “It’s okay.” I sucked in air trying to settle my breath. “God, what a mess.”

            “This?”

            I let out a softer laugh. “Surprisingly, this is the least messy thing about my life right now.”

            “Really?”

            “Really.” I placed my hand over his.

            “I’m back!” Jenna plopped down in the seat next to me. “So, did you order for me?”

            I slid my hands from his and picked up my menu. “Nope. We didn’t make it that far.”

            “Well, that sucks. I’m starving.” Jenna glanced around the restaurant before waving at the closest waitress.

            The waitress appeared moments later, and we each took turns placing our orders before Jenna launched into a monologue about her dad and his love of baseball. I tried to focus on her words and Henry’s responses whenever he could squeeze one in, but my brain kept latching on to what Henry had said. Kyle’s friends had never really been mine. I was an interloper. Some wandering spirit that was allowed to hover in their spaces—their private sanctuaries—never really part of anything tangible.

            Come on, Evie, snap out of it. Jenna is bound to ask you a question any moment now, and if you can’t answer this one, you will never hear the end of it. I pulled my thoughts from Kyle and high school and the unsettling fact that I might actually be alone, and worse than that, I’d been alone for far longer than I’d even realized.

            “Well, it kind of works like that.” Henry was saying, as he pulled the napkin from around his silverware, spreading it out in the middle of the table. “Do you have a pen? I’ll show you.”

            “Maybe,” Jenna quipped as she pulled her purse into her lap. She started digging through the contents, placing random items on the table as she went. “Here’s one!” She placed the pen on the napkin before nudging her purse to the edge of the table and swiping her personal collection of mis-fit items into the bag. “And while you are doing that, I’m going to check my calendar for tomorrow. Dr. Montgomery looooves to add random tasks to my to-do list but always conveniently forgets to notify me.” She shot me a look, as she pulled her phone into her hands.

            What? I mouthed.

            She rolled her eyes and shifted her attention to her screen.

            I let my eyes fall to the napkin Henry was furiously scribbling on. The only thing I could make out was some sort of makeshift baseball field, but his arm was covering most of the sketch as he continued filling out the napkin, placing numbers in all the central locations.

            I felt myself becoming slightly invested when my purse vibrated beside me. I leaned over and pulled out my phone, hoping Uncle George had texted back. Maybe he could help me figure out the whole Mom thing. I had four messages—every one of them from Jenna. What in the world?

Jenna: Are you okay? Did he upset you? Do we need to leave?

Jenna: Which do you prefer? Sudden and unexplainable, but completely believable, illness.

Jenna: Or if you’re in the mood for flair, I can go with a sudden trip and fall that isn’t serious but definitely requires medical attention.

Jenna: Personally, I vote for the first.  

            I felt a smile tug at the corners of my mouth before I realized that it was Jenna who had made me feel better. Jenna who had caused my mind to be still if just for this moment. I can’t believe she noticed I was upset. Maybe Henry’s wrong. I put my phone back into my purse and shook my head slightly at her, the smile growing larger. Oh, God. That or she really is a siren.