Anyway, here is the second part of "Looking for the Moon" (that's the working title for this part only for now). If you don't know what I am talking about, click here to read the first excerpt of my writing. If you do know what I am talking about and are interested in continuing, then please, by all means, proceed with gusto!
Some things that you have to know:
1. You've already met our Cammi. Jay (you won't actually meet him yet) and Cammi are best friends. Have been since they were fetuses.
2. Jay and Cammi live right across from each other in a subdivision. They share a driveway in between their houses, so there is no street separating them.
3. Jay and Cammi have a white bridge that stretches from their bedroom windows right across and over their shared driveways. The windows have locks but essentially, the two of them can go in and out of their bedrooms.
THIS IS A CONTINUATION OF THE FIRST PART THAT I POSTED YESTERDAY.
All righty, enjoy!
------------------
The air felt heavier than usual when I stepped outside of my French windows. The trade winds had considerably weakened over the past couple of days but the cool breezes still made me shiver. I hugged my jacket tighter around my waist and made sure that the windows were secure before gingerly stepping onto the white bridge. The sky was inky black, cloudless, and the darkness only made the stars shine brighter. ‘Almost like they’re taking advantage,’ I thought. I smiled inwardly as I added, ‘’Cause usually the moon steals the limelight.’ I walked across the bridge, casually treading on seventeen years’ worth of silent footsteps leading from my bedroom to Jay’s.
I immediately reached for the handle to slide open Jay’s glass windows, ignoring the security key pad that was supposed to keep them locked. Jay never locked his windows at night. He keeps a baseball bat next to his bed instead. But something caught my eye. A yellow post-it note taped onto the key pad flapped along with the gentle wind. Sure enough, Jay had written me a couple of lines in his untidy scrawl:
Cam—
The answer is no. I have a lit test tomorrow (and so do you!); I need my sleep. Last month, we got eaten alive by mosquitoes. I promise I’ll come along next time.
‘Night, J
P.S. DO NOT wake me up. Go back to your room.
P.P.S. Don’t be stubborn, young lady.
P.P.P.S. Ehh, who am I kidding? Just be careful; DON’T die. Loves.
Jay never says “I love you.” But he never says (or writes) “loves” just to anyone either. I always thought that he always used the word like an afterthought, like it’s never the most important thing. With Jay, it never really is, but that’s something that only seventeen years’ worth of melted strawberry ice creams and 7-Eleven midnight raids teach you.
I clucked my tongue. What a killjoy. Sure enough, I cupped my eyes around the glass and saw him deep underneath the covers, his breathing rhythmic. His headphones were still on. I rummaged in my backpack’s front pocket for a black pen and turned the post-it over. I placed it against the glass window as I began to write in what Jay liked to call my “English teacher’s script” because it looked like the countless revision comments that Dr. Fitz wrote in red along the margins of his lit papers.
J—
Suit yourself. Sleep, alone, doesn’t get you an A in Fitz-Lit; studying does—that’s why I planned to bring The Great Gatsby with me! Anyway, if I end up like Susie from The Lovely Bones, you and I both know that you could have easily prevented the whole tragedy had you agreed to escort this lovely lady on this lovely “moonless” night.
Love you, Cam
P.S. I will see you in the morning. I’ll be the one with “AWESOME” written all over my face.
P.P.S. I sense that you are developing a P.S. fetish. We shall discuss at length later.
I slipped the post-it between Jay’s windowpanes and tapped the glass in farewell despite the fact that I knew he couldn’t hear me. Then I swung my legs over his banisters and climbed the rope ladder that hung on the side of the small balcony.
The ladder had endured many night trips for years now and it continued to serve its purpose tonight. I jumped the last two rungs and landed in Jay’s yard, bending at the knees like I always do whenever I make that leap. I crept along the hedge that separated our two yards and clambered atop the stone wall, the irregularly shaped lava rocks familiar beneath my palms and the soles of my sneakers.
The stone wall separated all of the houses from the main street. The main street wasn’t really a street-street; it was more of a loop that encircled the subdivision which was shaped like a giant kidney bean. Jay and I lived at the very crook of “the croissant” as we liked to call Sillview. Behind our houses was a sea of tall grass that covered acres of undeveloped land. The first bird’s-eye drawings of Sillview were perfect circles. But when the economy dipped a decade ago, investors pulled out in the middle of the project and we were left with roughly three-fourths of the original plan.
Without looking back, I jumped and scurried across the empty street. I ducked under the old “DO NOT TRESPASS—PRIVATE PROPERTY” sign and disappeared into the dry blades of grass. It took me a few moments to find the manmade path, blades of grass carelessly chopped or bent to create a path just wide enough for a small child. I adjusted my backpack, turned on my flashlight, and headed for The Mound.
----------------------
Okay, that's about all that I have for you for now. Unless I go on a writing rampage again. I've been busy with Alphas.
Today......
I really loved...Gary Bell.
I smiled because of...a unicorn sliding down a rainbow. And the fact that Voldemort doesn't have a nose.
Lyrics playing at this very moment as I type this part of the blog:
"Today is the day. The worst day of my life..." (Learning to Fall by Boys Like Girls)
Friend of the day: Cammi has been so cooperative lately.
Hours of sleep last night: 9?! Yeps.
-Jen
0 comments!:
Post a Comment