The Unwanted Winter - Volume One of the Saga of the Twelves (15 page)

“
Yeah, I think you’re
right. It has been a long time,” Raymond replied, as he walked
around the island and up to his wife, giving her a one handed,
half-hug. He extended his coffee away from himself just in case he
spilled it. Its’ hot liquid wouldn’t splash on either of them. No
sense in getting burned for nothing.

Myelly responded with a
fiercer hug, breathing deeply as she put her head on his slightly
turned chest. “You always know when I need a hug the most,” she
mumbled into his pectoral muscles as he stroked her
hair.

“
That’s my job, honey, to
know when you need a hug. That’s how I score the most points,”
joked Raymond. It was a line he said to her all the
time.

Still, she giggled and
then gave him another quick squeeze just before she broke contact.
“How was Elena? Had she put herself back together? I mean, will she
be functional at school today?”

Raymond put down his mug
and crossed his arms at this chest, leaning back onto the island
for support. “I’m not sure really, but she wouldn’t take the bait
to stay at home either. You know how much she loves school.” His
brow furled as he continued. “It just broke my heart to see her cry
like that.” He shook his head. He was having a rough time putting
his mind around the way she had looked earlier that morning. “It
was just so despondent and forlorn. The way she cried in my arms
like...like, I don’t know, like something horrible had happened. It
was like she’d been mourning, down to her very soul.”

“
Wow, when you put in like
that, it makes me almost want to cry.” Myelly’s voice warbled as
she spoke.

Her husband reached out
and placed his hand upon her shoulder, the moment he heard her
voice crack.

“
It was very unnerving to
tell you the truth,” he muttered as his wife came into his embrace
one more time. “It was strange, you know, looking into her
beautiful, little eyes earlier and seeing something I had never
hoped to see in her eyes,” at his chest Myelly seemed to stiffen,
as if to brace herself against something she didn’t want to hear,
but had to. “It was fear, Myelly, pure, unadulterated
fear.”

“
Oh my god, Ray, what is
going on?”

Over her head, he shook
his head. He had no clue.

~~~~~~~~<<<<<<{ ☼
}>>>>>>~~~~~~~~

Some Boys are just too
Pathetic to be Stupid

Friday, November
19
^th
,
4:20 pm…

She emerged from the
Girl’s locker room. Her brilliant, platinum-blonde hair was still
slightly wet from the hot showers within. Though it was made dull
by the moisture, it still shone beautifully in the waning light of
the day. The moment the cold air hit her, she regretted not taking
the time to dry it properly. She was shivering, almost at
once.

It was often the topic of
much discussion - her hair – since many of her classmates believed
she dyed it constantly. How else could she keep its’ color vibrant
and looking new? Secretly, they wondered how she’d managed to go so
long without damaging it, without it losing any it’s of luster or
body. Those who’d known her since grammar school, those in
possession of the goofy class pictures of her in Kindergarten or
First Grade, knew different. Sophie Reed had come from her mother’s
body with hair so blonde, it was almost white.

Since, she’d grown into a
striking young woman of seventeen. She was slender, but curvy where
she needed to be. Overall, she appeared athletic.

Yet, it was the way she
carried herself that made her all the more attractive. She exuded
femininity, profusely. She was dignified, somewhat reserved, but
still managed to be friendly at the same time. She wasn’t
closed-off or aloof to the world around her. She always ready with
an open smile and a warm look. She stood five foot, four inches
tall with pale skin and eyes the hue of a smoky azure. They were a
deep swirling sort of blue constantly changing color in the light
or with the cast of her mood. Her face wasn’t narrow, nor could it
be termed wide. Most people would say it was either moderately wide
or not quite narrow, depending on who was doing the talking. Her
proud cheekbones framed her face and tapered to a delicate chin.
Her lips glistened with clear lip-gloss, accentuating the natural
pink of her lips. She preferred to show off their actual hue,
rather than hide them behind a brighter and, therefore, false
color. She wore a light pink
Nike
sweat suit over a pink t-shirt emblazoned with
the “naughty”
Tinkerbelle
she liked over the impish, child-like version,
appealing to girls of a much younger age than her. She wore a
matching set of trainers upon her feet, lightweight, comfortable,
much needed after another strenuous workout with the Cheer
Squad.

It has always been one of
her inner fears that all of the arduous exercises she did on a
consistent basis would mangle her feet over time, so she went out
of her way to take care of them. Cute girls with ugly feet didn’t
seem right to her. What boy would ever look at a girl with toes
like King Kong and feet as flat as Donald Duck? Not a one, as far
as she was concerned.

“
Hey, Sophie?” came a
plaintive voice before she had the time to get her bearings,
blinking her eyes against the glare of the sun. She’d been
surrounded by artificial light for too long. “It’s me, Jimmy… your
Jim-Bo.”

The voice had come from
Sophie’s left, so she followed it, focusing her eyes on the hunched
form of James Henley, Jr. He was leaning against the outer wall of
the locker room, one foot resting against the structure itself and
the other planted on the asphalt-covered ground.

He was her age and maybe
an inch taller, small for a boy of their years, especially when it
came to his weight. Sophie was certain he weighed less than her
svelte one hundred and eleven pounds, which was a featherweight
compared to the norm of the boys attending their High School. He
had on a long-sleeved, button up shirt, black, with very fine white
filaments sewn into the weave. It gave the impression the material
was similar to that of a pinstriped suit. The remainder of his
outfit consisted of a pair of blue jeans and darker blue
Vans
, the ones with a
thin strip of white leather wiggling down each side. It was one of
the classic styles – old, but not quite outdated. As usual, his
hair was jelled to appear mussed, but done so purposefully in an
attempt to imitate the trendy male hairstyle seen over and over in
the latest teen fashion magazines. He probably could’ve pulled off
the look if it hadn’t looked as though he was trying too hard at
being cool. The James Dean smirk didn’t work on James Henley, not
at all.

“
Hey, Jim, how’z it
goin’?” asked Sophie tentatively, not quite certain what sort of
experience this conversation would garner. One could never tell,
from the onset, with the likes of James Henley, Jr. He was somewhat
of a disconcerting aspect of Sophie’s life, one she hadn’t invited
nor encouraged, but one that somehow never went away. Whether it
was due to the frigid air or something she’d sensed, Sophie
zippered up her sweatshirt, almost to her neck. Though she didn’t
know why, she felt somehow exposed before the unsettled gaze of the
boy before her.

“
Ok, I guess… as good as I
can manage,” he said softly, his face squelching with a grimace, as
if he was hiding some sort of pain he didn’t want her to see, but
notice all the same.

Sophie frowned at that, an
inkling of what was about to happen already taking root in one
corner of her mind, while, in front of her, James coughed quietly.
She tried with all of her might not to roll her eyes and exhale
explosively. Not sure if she should bother to inquire further, the
probable outcome making her wary, she hesitated for a split second.
But, the nicer side of her prevailed and she found herself asking,
“Is everything ok, James?”

He coughed again, before
he replied, louder, the sound emanating from his throat and not his
chest. “Everything is ok. You know, how it is sometimes,
right?”

“
I… guess…?” she said,
framing her reply with a question, not sure what he meant or
implied. She decided it was time to start contemplating her exit
strategy.

“
It’s just the smoking, I
think… well, I know it’s beginning to get to me now, and… I haven’t
been myself because of it. You know, it’s health stuff.” He looked
at her through his eyebrows, another grimace crossing his face. His
voice trailed off into silence.

Sophie’s scowl and
trepidation both deepened.
Smoking? What
the hell is this dude talking about? You’ve been like fake smoking
for a little more than a month. You still have the same stupid pack
you snatched from your Dad’s carton in his study! What a
dweeb,
thought Sophie, shaking her head,
every word passing across her consciousness tolling like a bell.
She was unable to control her reaction outwardly, clicking the roof
of her mouth. She remembered every detail of the story, because
James had bragged about it himself. She might be pretty and a
cheerleader, but she wasn’t stupid. She recalled the day, the time,
everything.

“
What
are you
talking
about?” she implored, before she could stop herself, her
outrage clouding her better judgment. Yet, she’d gone through crap
like this with James
way
too many times. It had finally boiled
over.

“
My health, Sophie, didn’t
you hear what I said?” his voice firmed a bit, but he still managed
to place a wavering tremor within it. “The doctor said my lungs
have been taking a beating, because of all the smoking. I would
like to cut back, but I can’t now, you know. I’m hooked. Plus, my
nerves are all frazzled, because of all the stress from our
break-up and all… You know…” He looked into her eyes.
“Sorry.”

Dude, you haven’t even
smoked more than fifteen cigarettes!
Her
ire was rising faster than Old Faithful, the anger beginning to
stiffen her shoulders. Then, the import of what he had said toward
the end of his sentence registered,
“…break-up and all…?”
What damned
break-up? What the -? There was no “break-up”! There was nothing,
because they’d never been
together
in the first place.

“
Please,
James, explain to me… what the
hell
are you talking about?” She didn’t even try to
keep the exasperation out of her voice.

“
I came here to tell you,
I am dying, Sophie. I don’t know how much longer I have to walk the
earth. I have something I want to give you.” He was pleading now,
through pain only he could imagine. Sophie had a sickening feeling
it was nothing more than his imagination. The thought made her
insides twist.

“
What?!?” He’d caught her
with such profound surprise she couldn’t help but raise her voice.
“You gotta be kidding me, James!”

What the hell was this kid
really smoking?

“
I wish I was, Sophie… I
really do,” he responded, misinterpreting her meaning.

“
Aaarrggh,” was all she
could manage. Her patience had worn thin. “Well, I hope everything
works out for you. I have to go,” she spoke rapidly, no longer
wanting to be anywhere near the boy. Not even for a
second.

“
What?!” Now it was his
turn to be surprised. “Wait,” he reached out and held her gently by
the forearm as she made to turn and walk away. The contact stopped
her in her tracks. “Girl, I have something for you or… well, it’ll
be something you’ll get after I die.”

She rolled her eyes,
giving him a level stare, her mouth a thin line of impatience, her
ire expressed through accelerated breathing.

He seemed to sense he’d
have her attention for no more than a brief time. He pulled himself
from the wall and moved closer. “I know things between you and I
haven’t always been cool, even good, especially after the last
argument.” She clicked the roof of her mouth again, and began
tapping her foot, but James forged on. “But, I want you to know, I
still care about you. I want to make sure you’re always taken care
of, so that you are always able to get what you want…
what you deserve
out of
life.”