The Understorey

I stood outside the door to Mrs. Kitt’s class and took a deep breath before swinging it open. I choked and coughed on the deep breath I took when I saw her face and the whole class lifted their head noticing me briefly, except for Jules. Smooth, very smooth. She glanced from the corner of her eye and the nerves that tingled in her stomach tingled in mine.



Thanks to the supernatural phenomenon that was our electricity, I was privy to everything Jules felt. If the feeling was powerful enough, I could feel it without even touching her which explained the butterflies we shared in that moment. It was an understood knowledge that welled inside my chest and I was never so grateful for anything before in my life. It told me what I wanted to know.



I sat next to her and began to lean in but before I could say anything, Mrs. Kitt had started passing out our seriously delayed textbooks, something about the printers making a mistake, and the donated paper covers from Justin Weber’s Auto Body Shop and asked us to wrap them.



They were so stupid looking. On the front was obviously an older picture of Justin Weber because he was easily twenty pounds lighter in the picture than he was in real life. He was standing in front of his auto body shop and there was a rented sports car between himself and his garage. On the hood laid Kitty, in a fitted jumpsuit with Justin’s logo on the front. Kitty was Justin’s ex-girlfriend from Charleston who left him for a ‘big city’ man but he just wouldn’t let her go. “She’ll be back,” he’d  always say. Poor guy, total denial. On the top in big letters it read, ‘Come to Justin’s. We’ll treat you right.’



Jules had already begun to wrap her book. Her thin fingers carefully measured the folds and creased them attentively. She pressed the side of her thumb’s knuckle across the crease to make sure it took. She did this for all four sides of the cover but on the fourth crease accidentally gave herself a paper cut. The shared pain was sharp and intense and made me jump when she did. The throb subsided when she brought her knuckle to her tongue to soothe the ache. She looked over at me briefly, knowing full well I felt the slice.



“Are you okay?” I asked.



“Yes, thank you,” she said, breathing heavily from the realization rather than the laceration.



She turned back to her task. Jules was the only one who wrapped her book inside out so the paper would be blank and she could draw on it later. When she was done, I threw a dorky smile her way, and copied her, but for a very different reason. I took out my pen and wrote on the top of the cover in very small letters, bracing myself for the long fight it was going to take to erase whatever idea she had of who I was and what I wanted her to be to me.



Hi.



What do you want Elliott?



Can we talk?



About what?



You know what.



About your following me to Koan’s?



I DID NOT follow you to Koan’s.



Right.



Exactly. I am right. It was a coincidence. Boy, you must think the world revolves around you.



I do not! Don’t try to make me appear as if I’m imagining things. I’ve noticed you watching me.



How would you even know that Jules? If you weren’t watching me as well?



It’s Julia, Elliott. Class is about to start. I don’t have time for your games.



She turned to her own notebook. I wrote and shoved the cover into her face.



Are we ever going to talk about what happened the first day of school?



She hesitated, but at last answered me.



I have no idea what you’re talking about.



Jules.



My name is Julia, not Jules, Elliott. How many times do I have to tell you?



I know that but I like Jules. I’ve noticed I’m the only one who calls you that. It makes me a part of you that only we share.



She wasn’t expecting that answer and I could see when her eyes widened then quickly narrowed that she wasn’t exactly adverse to the idea. Whew.



What’s your motivation?



I have to have a motivation to talk to you?



Boys like you always have a motivation.



Boys like me, huh? You’ve never struck me as the type who read into stereotypes Jules. I didn’t know you were such a snob.



I’m the snob? Spare me.



What about the first day of school, huh? Did I act like a snob then? It seems to me that you’re the one who’s the snob. You’ve avoided me like the plague. You see me coming and you run the other direction. I’ve gotten the cold shoulder from you for the past three weeks.



She reached out her hand to yank the pen from mine in retaliation. Her finger grazed mine and the contact struck a sparkled heat between us. We pulled away as if they were hands held to a stove. Everyone around us were completely unaware of the netted lightning bolt that stuck us stiff to our seats and quieted us from its silently deafening effects. With trembling hands I wrote,



There’s no denying that baby girl.



You’re right. I cannot deny that, even if I wanted to.



I looked at her, confused.



Do you?



What?



Want to deny it?



Kind of.



You’re literally breaking my heart Jules. Am I really that bad?



It’s not that. It’s just, I don’t trust you.



Why?



How do I know you’re the same Elliott Gray who would play with me on the rock bridge as kids? You seemed to have changed when we entered eighth grade. It seemed as if overnight we just stopped being friends.



Maybe I was the snob.



Oh, Jules. I’m sorry, really. I was an idiot and afraid of girls. Honestly, it seemed like you wanted nothing to do with me so I stopped talking to you.



I wasn’t some girl Elliott. I was your friend. It was all so awkward that first day and I didn’t know what I had done. Only one day had passed since last we saw one another, but you ignored me as if we hardly knew each other at all. I admit, I did act as if I wanted nothing to do with you, but I was only doing that to protect myself from the way you were acting. I’m sorry too. I should have just come out and asked you.



I took a deep breath and let it out slowly.



Again, I’m sorry. But, I have to admit, I’m kind of glad we ignored each other. 



That was mean.



Ask me why Jules.



Okay, why?



Because, if we hadn’t grown apart maybe we never would have found our ‘thing’ and I kind of like our ‘thing’. Growing apart meant that we became the people we are today and you seem to be an amazing someone, whom I may have never noticed had we not grown up without each other. Our ‘thing’ may have gotten lost in the friendship.  This brings me to my next question. What’s happening to us?



I don’t know. Your guess is as good as mine.



She swallowed hard. She knew what was happening.



I know what happened to us.



Then why’d you ask?



I just wanted to confirm that you knew too, so I don’t look like a fool again. I do an incredible job of looking foolish in front of you without even realizing it until it’s too late.



She put the back of her index finger up to her mouth and quietly laughed at me. She was laughing. Progress. All it took was an incredibly frightening ‘thing’.



What’s so funny?



You. You’re funny.



Why?



Because even with our ‘thing’, our powerful, powerful ‘thing’, your ego is afraid of rejection Elliott Gray. This town still has a slight hold on you, I think.



You’ve got me pegged pretty well Jacobs.



I know.



What should we do about it then?



Talk after class?



And why not now? As far as I’m concerned, we’ve just gotten started. You’ve somethin’ better to do?



When she didn’t answer, I looked at her and she nodded toward the front of the classroom. It was Mrs. Kitt. She had been watching us and was headed our way. I turned over my book and weren’t able to talk or write for the rest of the class. Jules was definitely lowering her defenses and I was making plans to disarm her completely by the end of the week.



On our way to lunch, Jules and I walked side by side. I didn’t want to unnerve her so I stayed pretty quiet. When I didn’t say anything, I clumsily gave her the impression that I was no longer interested in talking.



“See you third period,” she said and started walking quickly toward her usual table.



I jogged to catch up with her.



“Uh, I don’t think so Jules. I just got you to start talking to me. Where do you think you’re going?”



“Well, I didn’t think you’d want to be seen eating lunch with the ‘freak’ of Bluefield High,” she laughed.



She was being sarcastic. She knew that was her reputation and probably reveled in it.



“Is there a freak here? Point them out to me? I’ve never seen one up close before.”



She rolled her eyes.



“You sure do make a lot of assumptions about me,” I said. “Why don’t you just throw out whatever preconceived notions you hold of who you think I am and consider me a blank slate. Now come on, let’s sit at your table. It’ll be easier to talk if we’re alone.”



I grabbed her hand and the surge permeated my skin and gave me the most luxurious calm pulsing through my arm and torso. We sat down and she stared at the wall away from me.



“So, Julia Jacobs, why do you sit here day after day by yourself? Don’t you have any friends at Bluefield?”



“Yikes. You’re nosy. If you must know,” she said, placing her elbow on the table and leaning her body toward me, “none of the girls here like me because of Taylor Williams’ noxious gossip and none of the boys like me because they’re afraid of me.”



“I’m sorry. I didn’t know about the girls. Honest. I don’t listen to anything anyone says about others around here. Gossip just doesn’t appeal to me.”



“I find that................refreshing,” she mused, her eyes brightened.



She reclined again in her seat and brought her legs to the chair next to her



“There are lots of things you might find refreshing about me.”



“I’ll be the judge of that.”



“As far as the boys are concerned, I can see why they’d be afraid of you.”



“Ha! That was rude.”



“Are you surprised? You sulk around here. Pay little to no attention to anyone and sneer at the ones who even attempt to talk to you.”



“You don’t know what you’re talking about. It’s a matter of self preservation. You think I enjoy having to be ‘put up’ with? What would you know about it anyway? You’re just as much of a freak, or whatever their definition of a freak is, as I am. Yet, since you’re the king of their football team they look right past it. I know you listen to all the same music I do. I know that you secretly think my clothing is kind of cool.” She slid her hands down her waist. “I have a pretty good feeling that you can’t stand most of your lemming friends and I’m also willing to bet you don’t really care what they think.”



“Oh yeah? And what makes you think I don’t care what they think? They are my friends after all.”



“Because you’re sitting at this table while your friends whisper and stare.” She threw her eyes in the direction of the team table. “If you cared so much, you wouldn’t be here at all. You’re perfectly aware of the trouble I’m going to cause you by being here right now. Still, here you are.”