Infinite (Strange and Beautiful, Book 1) (17 page)

Do
you have AIM?

My
heart seemed to swell in my chest as giddiness overtook my entire body and I
bounced anxiously in my seat. If Jackson was asking if I had AOL Instant
Messenger, then it was only natural to assume that he wanted to talk to me.
Right? At least that was the conclusion
I
came to, and I was completely
cool with that.

Yep,
I have AIM. My screen name is thesillywallflower. It must be fun working in a
theater. Do you get to see all of the movies for free?

I
hit the send button and signed onto AIM just for good measure. Then I pulled up
iTunes because I needed music. The stillness of the house was getting to me. I
put it on shuffle and hit the play button. A second later “Telescope Eyes” by
Eisley started playing. They were one of my favorite bands. I saw an article
about them in a magazine and decided to look them up on the Internet. I liked
what I heard, so I begged Mom for their Room Noises album.

The
minute I got it home I popped it into my CD player and lay back on my bed to
listen. I’d immediately fallen in love. When I told Tegan about the band, she
asked me to describe them. Much like people when it came to art, I didn’t know
much about music aside from what I liked, and Eisley had a sound of its own. It
was a mix of indie, folk and pop that came together to form beautiful songs
consisting of melodic vocals and whimsical lyrics.

I
was anxious for their next album, but I had no idea when it would be out. They
had a few new songs up online, but the connection was too slow for streaming
it. What I had heard, though, sounded great, but I generally liked to listen to
songs on the albums first from start to finish, so I could hear them the way
they were supposed to be heard.

I
sang along with the song as I tied my hair back in a ponytail. I was expecting
another MySpace message from Jackson, but instead a message box popped up from
AIM asking if I’d like to accept a message from jackyourhart.

Heart
pounding, I hit the option to accept the message.

jackyourhart
: Hi! It’s Jackson.

thesillywallflower
: I kind of guessed that.

jackyourhart:
Really? What gave it away? ;)

thesillywallflower:
I think it was the misspelling
of heart in conjunction with the word jack.

jackyourhart:
Oh, aren’t we smart with the big words?

thesillywallflower:
Shut up.

jackyourhart:
Very mature.

thesillywallflower:
I think I am.

jackyourhart:
I’m sure you do. So, what’s up?

thesillywallflower:
Not much, really. How about you?

jackyourhart
: Same here.

thesillywallflower
: So, do people actually call you Jack or is that
just for the sake of the screen name?

jackyourhart
: My family sometimes calls me Jack or Jacks. My
brothers like to tease me by calling me Jackie.

thesillywallflower
: At least that’s better than Silly.

jackyourhart
: I think Silly’s a cute nickname.

thesillywallflower
: I guess it would be since
Skylar coined it when she was three.

jackyourhart
: Really?

thesillywallflower:
Yeah, she
couldn’t say Cecilia, and Luke already called Skylar Sissy, so I got stuck with
Silly.

jackyourhart
: I think it suits you.

thesillywallflower:
Because I’m such a ridiculous
spaz?

jackyourhart:
No. I think it’s ironic because
you’re not silly at all.

I
sat back in my seat, blinking at Jackson’s words. It was like déjà vu. I
remembered writing something along the same lines in the paper Miss Barkley
assigned before school started. Apparently, I did understand irony in the
context of my own name, but, more importantly, Jackson didn’t think I was an
idiot.

I
didn’t know what to say to that, but, thankfully, he’d moved on already.

jackyourhart
: So things are crazy at your
house because your mom has a job?

thesillywallflower
: So it would seem. I think my
dad’s just afraid he’s going to starve, and Luke and Skylar are helpless. Or
hopeless. Or maybe just lazy. I’m not sure which.

jackyourhart
: And you?

thesillywallflower
: Honestly, I’m fine with it. I
know it’ll take some adjusting. Like, right now, it’s so quiet around here.
It’s kind of creepy, but only because I’m so used to my mom being around all
the time.

jackyourhart
: I’m sure you’re right. Change
isn’t a bad thing.

thesillywallflower
: Oh, I know. Someone just needs
to send the memo to the rest of the family.

jackyourhart
: I’m sure they’ll live.

thesillywallflower:
I know.

jackyourhart
: So, is it safe to guess that
your screen name is a reference to The Perks of Being a Wallflower?

thesillywallflower
: Yes, that would be a safe
assumption. ;)

jackyourhart:
Speaking of books, I thought of
one. Have you read The Da Vinci Code by Dan Brown?

thesillywallflower
: I have not, but I’ve been
meaning to.

jackyourhart
: I think you should definitely
give it a shot if you like mysteries.

thesillywallflower
: As it happens, I do. I’ll have
to check it out.

I
wanted to say more, but the sound of the front door pulled me out of my Jackson
enthralled conversation. I glanced at the clock. It was only half past four, so
I knew it probably wasn’t Dad. Reluctantly, I realized my conversation with
Jackson was probably over for the evening.

thesillywallflower
: I think my mom’s home. I should
probably go and see how her first day of work went.

jackyourhart
: Okay, cool. I’ll see you
around.

thesillywallflower
: Yep, see ya!

I
signed off of AIM with a smile on my face and practically floated down the
stairs. I found Mom in the kitchen, kicking off her shoes by the door that let
out into the garage.

I
asked her how her day went and tried to pay attention, but if anyone asked, I
wouldn’t have been able to relay her answers. My thoughts were still on
Jackson.

Wednesday,
November 8
^th
, 2006

Hazel
eyes meet green;

With
cheeks pink and heart pulsing,

I
stammer, “hello.”

A kind,
open smile

Steals
my breath and breaks the spell.

Words
spill out.

Nonsensical
talk

Leaves
me longing for escape;

Shamed
feet won’t move.

Musical
laughter

Eases
the sting, but leaves scars

On my
tender heart.

He’s
unaware

Butterflies
swoop deep within;

For, he
stole my heart.

I fully
believed life had a twisted sense of humor. People always talked about how life
had a way of working things out, but sometimes it was really hard to
believe—especially after you’ve hoped, wished and prayed for something only to
see no results. Sometimes it felt like the genie went on strike the day you
rubbed on its bottle and your three wishes were ignored, or the genie simply
said, “Nope, you’re denied. Definitely not happening. You’re just not important
enough today.”

As
ridiculous as it might have sounded, that was essentially how I felt about my
body. While other girls had been blessed with bosoms and curves, I felt as
though my body still resembled that of a child. I longed for the changes that
would make my body appear distinctly female, rather than androgynous.

Mom
kept telling me I would hit a growth spurt and everything else would fill out
in the process. “Don’t rush it, Silly,” she said. “It’ll happen when the time
is right.”

I’d
been waiting since I was twelve and was nearly to the point of believing I’d
forever resemble a prepubescent boy without the help of cosmetic surgery when
it finally happened. Without any warning. I went to bed one night, nearly two
weeks after my fifteenth birthday, and woke up the next morning feeling like
I’d been hit by a freight train.

My
whole body ached as I sat up in bed and swung my feet over the side. Instead of
hanging a few inches above the floor, my feet actually touched the carpet.
Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I stood and crossed the room to the mirror that
hung on the back of my closet door. From the way I felt, I half expected to
find myself covered in unexplainable bruises. Instead, I discovered that,
apparently, I’d grown boobs overnight.

I
kept rubbing my eyes trying to make sure I wasn’t just hallucinating the whole
thing, but I most definitely wasn’t. Anyone else probably wouldn’t have even
been able to tell the difference. I was wearing my favorite oversized
nightshirt, but the subtle sloping in the chest area was definitely new.

I
grabbed the sides of the shirt and pulled it taut against my front, where the
changes were even more obvious. Just to be safe, I grabbed one of my bras and
pulled it on and could immediately feel the difference. It was way too tight;
making my chest feel like it was suffocating, I quickly removed that bra.
Because I simply couldn’t believe it had finally happened, I wound up trying on
all of the bras I usually wore only to meet the same problem: none of them fit.

Once
the initial shock and excitement settled in, I was faced with the problem of
finding something to wear. The idea of going without a bra felt awkward, so I
even tried on the one sports bra I had in my possession. I never wore it
because I’d felt like it only succeeded in making my chest look flatter. Once I
pulled it on, though, I was suddenly thankful for its existence. It was a
little tight around, but I wasn’t spilling out of it like I had with the other
bras.

The
other problem I found was that all of my fitted shirts were way too tight, and
my previously loose shirts were now fitted. But I hadn’t just grown out; I’d
also grown up, so my pants were suddenly too short. After some digging, I
finally found some terry knit pants that were a little long when I bought them.
They were several years old, though, so they felt snug at the waist, but,
thankfully, they stretched and they didn’t make me look like I was waiting for
the next great flood. I also managed to find a shirt—that didn’t look like a
second skin—that matched the pants.

Despite
my clothing dilemma, I was still extremely happy. Even though the sports bra
didn’t do much in the way of flattery, I kept looking at myself sideways in the
mirror as I got ready for school. I also thought I looked thinner than I had
before.

While
I wasn’t a chronic dieter like Skylar, I’d always had a little pouch in my
midsection that never seemed to want to flatten out. It definitely wasn’t
anything I fretted over enough to give up sweets or fatty foods, but it seemed
as if the stretching of the length of my body made the pouch disappear. In
fact, despite still being too short, all of the pants I tried on hung lower on
my hips.

Once
I realized how vain I was being, I tore myself away from in front of the mirror
and went downstairs. Immediately, I cornered Mom, who was busy moving around
the kitchen, juggling scrambling eggs, frying bacon and tying her hair back in
a bun. My first instinct was to warn her she was going to shed into the food,
but since I knew I was in desperate need of new clothing, I didn’t want to do
anything to make her mad.

That
plan didn’t work out so well. Mom seemed distracted as I shadowed her movements
around the kitchen while trying to talk to her. Her attention seemed to be
somewhere beyond the kitchen, and every time she turned around I was in the way.

Finally,
she sighed in exasperation. “What do you need, Cecilia?” The use of my full
name was proof of her annoyance.

Instead
of my voice coming out confident and excited, my tone was meek as I said, “I
finally got the growth spurt you kept promising me I’d get.”

Mom
paused from flipping bacon to really look at me for the first time that
morning. She looked me up and down, and while she examined my claim, I realized
I was now just a couple of inches shy of her height instead of being half a
foot shorter.

Apparently
noticing the new snugness of my attire, she stated the obvious, “You need new
clothes.”

“More
specifically, I need a new bra,” I said, pointing at my newly acquired breasts.

“I
can see that.” A small smile played at the corners of her mouth, and the
amusement was clear in her green eyes. She walked over to the far counter where
her purse was sitting and dug around inside for a moment before she pulled out
her billfold. She counted out some bills before she walked back over to me and
handed me the stack.

“Here’s
some money. I’ll ask Skylar to take you to the mall after school.” I stared at
the stack of bills as she spoke. “Try to get an outfit or two. Look for stuff
that’s on sale, and I’ll take you shopping for more this weekend. We can get
your birthday presents then too.”

“Okay,”
I nodded, stuffing more money than I could ever remember possessing into my
pocket. “Thanks.”

“Mmm
hmm,” she hummed as she returned her attention back to breakfast. This was the
first time since she’d gone back to work that she’d taken the time to make
breakfast. We’d had bagels, muffins, and pop tarts since Monday. The bacon and
eggs smelled fabulous and my stomach gurgled in anticipation. If Mom was good
at one thing, it was breakfast foods.