I Think IM...RU? Chapter 1

I Think IM…RU?

Chapter 1


      The feeling of dread sat like a weight in the pit of my stomach. Well, more like roiled around like a bunch of butterflies on LSD. The constant fluttering was making me sick and not just anxious-sick but actual sick-sick. I really needed to throw up. It'd be a relief. I mean, after a few rinses with Listerine to kill the taste.
God, I was an idiot. The line repeated over and over in the back of my head. It was becoming my own personal mantra and one I'd be happy to stop. Idiot, idiot, idiot…Argh! I swung my legs over the side of the bed and stood abruptly. I had to catch myself. After lying in the same position on my bed for the last half an hour the sudden transition had made my head whirl and my stomach clench painfully. Another wave of nausea bubbled up from my midriff and I tottered quickly to the vanity on the other side of my small room.
      I often joked in the past that it was no bigger then a closet and boy, I was surprised to find out that it had been. The previous owners had expanded it for their daughter but the irony of it made me chuckle: trapped in a closet. That just about fit perfectly.
      I frowned suddenly. I wasn't…I couldn't be. I opened the vanity and propped the cover up against the wall to stare at the mirror that had been built right in. There was a slight hairline crack running down the center but it wasn't really in the way of anything. The vanity had belonged to my grandmother and when she passed away, she had handed it down to me. It was an heirloom of sorts. I hadn't received it until last year on my sixteenth birthday. It was a present from my mother who finally thought I was old enough to take care of it. (We were also kind of tight on money. My "father", I say this loosely because he's never been a constant in my life, had left us when I was seven. Since then we'd had some money problems.) I didn't mind though. I loved the old thing, peeling paint, cracks and all.
      I peered into the mirror with awe at the too- normal girl who stared back. She was reflected back, her almond-shaped green eyes widened and glossy. A hint of frenzy was buried underneath fear. Her lips were pulled down in an odd grimace. This was not the girl I knew.
      I idly picked up my brush, my mirror copy doing the same and ran it through my shoulder length almost-black hair. It was an odd OCD thing I had going. I was never happy with my hair, no matter how many times I brushed it. It didn't want to cooperate with me and it annoyed me to no extent. I gnawed on my bottom lip and ran my fingers through the limp locks when I was done. At least it had distracted me for a few well-needed moments. My hands had been shaking though I hadn't noticed this until now. I pulled a deep breathe in and felt my lungs expand. I tried to release the jitters as I exhaled but it really didn't do any good.
      It wasn't so bad, I tried to rationalize. I nearly snorted in laughter. What a lie. Normal girls don't crush on their best GIRL friends. Normal girls fawn and swoon over handsome boys they meet during school or drool over the latest casanovas of the movie industry. Not me though. I had to be the odd one out. Whoever's up there is cynical, wiring me improperly just for kicks I bet.
      I blinked, feeling a sudden stinging sensation coming from my palms. I held up my hands and grimaced. Apparently my hands had decided to tense and ball into fists so tight that my nails had began to cut into my skin. Just brilliant. I wiped my hands quickly off on to my black jeans and ignored the pain that I felt.
      My mind began to wander now that the momentary distractions had come and gone. Well, crap. I compulsively turned to the clock. Double crap. Just five minutes. I didn't know if I was relieved or devastated at the lack of time. Would five minutes feel like hours or seconds? Was I possibly ready for this or would I be happy it was over? I didn't really have time to think as there was a light rap-tap-tap on my door. I nearly flew to the handle and turned it.
      My mother stood in the doorway. She was a pretty woman, a very sophisticated looking fifty year old. Age had done her justice unlike most women these days. She gave me a wearied smile, "Angela's here, dear."
      My stomach lurched and then flip flopped around erratically. It was now or never, I supposed. I thanked my mother and brushed past her. I nearly floated down the long hall and into the foyer. My mind was an absolute blur. What would I say? What would I do? I must've spaced out because a light knock on the door startled me back into the world of the living. I quickly composed myself and turned the lock to let Angela in.
      She hurried in from the cold and I shuddered as the remnants of a frigid breeze snuck in through the closing door. I felt guilty that I had left her out there while my head was off in la-la land.
      "Hi!" She said breathlessly and for a moment my breath caught in my throat. I was stalled y the surge of affection I felt. It was like this every time I saw her, no matter where we were. It had started a few months back with a case of butterflies when she had taken my hand in the hall at school. It just escalated from there on out. Every touch and every look made my heart jump. (More like dance, actually: picture a caffeinated eight year old with ADD doing the Irish Jig.)
After I remembered how to breathe I returned the greeting with a manly hello. Sometimes when I'm nervous, my voice will drop or raise a few octaves. It really depends on the time of day. Smooth as silk I thought as she laughed in amusement.
She was absolutely gorgeous, I thought. I fought hard to not stare but it was a difficult task. Her light coffee-brown eyes shone delicately in the foyer's dim light and her beautifully full lips turned up in a friendly smile. I blushed, noting how the cold stained her nose and cheeks an adorable reddish pink hue. She was dusted with melting snow flakes. A few clung to her shoulders and others hiding between the cascades of her curled reddish chestnut hair. I had to fight back the desire to brush them off. I swear my hands twitched once or twice.
      That was my favorite attribute, I think. Angie's hair always had made me jealous. It complimented the light freckles that spanned the bridge of her nose and cheeks. She shrugged off her coat and I automatically reached out for it. She gave another smile and said, "How very gentlemanly of you."
      I remember how I just laughed nervously at this.
      I invited her inside and she sighed in relief as the warmth bathed over her, "I'm glad you invited me over Charlotte. You seemed so off these last few weeks. I was worried you we're upset with me or something."
      My eyes, which I had cast downward as to not stare at her perfect face, snapped upwards. I felt myself drowning in the sadness that I found mingling in Angela's expression. Damn it all! I didn't realize how much this would hurt her. I had acted a little off lately, now that I had come to think of it. I was a little more reclusive and shied away from her but I thought I was doing it to keep her from getting her. I would really have to give myself a pat on the back after tonight.
      "Angela…" I began weakly. I cringed as my voice cracked, "Can we talk in my room?" She nodded slowly and pressed past me to walk down the narrow hall way. I shuddered violently at her unintentional touch.
      I hurried after her, closing the door to my room behind us with an audible click. She was sitting on my bed, hands clasped and apparently eager to discuss my behavior. Her lower lip quivered as she spoke, "Lottie, I'm so sorry if I did anything to make you upset…I really am…" She trailed off into silence. I cringed as she used my pet name. Only my mother and Angela had ever called me that.
      Oh God. This wasn't about her; I couldn't let her think that. I quickly cut her off before she could continue, "You didn't do anything wrong, Angie..." I said softly. As soon as these words left my mouth she relaxed visibly though she still held on to her concerned expression.
      "Then what?" Angela murmured as she interrupted my thought process, "You can tell me anything Char. I'm worried. Josh and Kimberly are worried too. We all are. You seem so sad these days."
      I took a seat at my vanity, my back to the mirror this time. I stared at Angela quietly who looked away from my intense gaze.
      "Lottie?" She said softly, her tone questioning.
      "Please don't let this change anything. I care about you a lot." I said at last after a few moments of uncomfortable silence.
      "It won't." She said urgently. She stood up and walked to me. I rose to my feet to face her. My hands were shaking intensely so I clenched them again. I didn't want her to be this close. It was distracting me, tempting me…
      I wasn't sure what occurred next really happened. I remember grabbing Angela's shoulders, tugging her closer to me, brushing my lips against hers, so soft and warm. An awkward first kiss if you think about it.
      "I love you." I managed to croak out. It came off small and meek.
      "I love you." I repeated stronger then the first. She had to know the extent of it.
       Suddenly Angela's hands we're against my stomach and she shoved me back. I fell to the ground and landed on my ass. I looked to her face with surprise and was shocked by the horror and the revulsion I found there.
      Her expression changed quickly from disgust to despair. Her head shook slowly as she edged to the door, "I'm sorry Charlotte. I um…I have to go. This just isn't going…I just really need to leave." She looked as if she we're going to cry. I knew how she felt.
      "I can't do this." She said as she fumbled with the door knob, "I can't help you this time." She finally got the knob to turn and she was gone. I could hear her rapid footsteps down the hall, the surprised cry of "Are you alright?" that came from my mother and finally the slam of the front door as it closed.
      I stood in silence for a few moments and let this wash over me. Her horrified expression was branded into my mind. An agonized keening left my lips and I hurried to my bed. I curled up tightly as the sobs escaped my lips and stole any strength I had left. I pulled a pillow to my chest and buried my face into it. I was unaware that my mother had sat beside me and was now rubbing my back, trying to comfort me.
      I cried for a long while. She sat there with me and murmured softly a lullaby that I had heard her sing when I was younger. Slowly my sobs dissipated and the only sounds that were left were my hitched breathes and whimpers. I eagerly embraced the darkness that swept over me as I fell into a deep slumber.