Belle 3: And it Starts

I didn’t go home. I went out to the spot in the field that Brody kissed me in. Tears flowed down my cheeks. He was gone. The best thing in my life was going to be taken right out from under me within a matter of days.

“There ya are,” Brody’s voice appeared behind me. Great. He’s going to see that I’ve been crying. He’s going to ask what’s wrong and I can’t get out of it this time. But if I can I will.

“I saw ya leave. Why’d you run off like that?” he sat next me. He paused to analyze my face that I was trying to hide behind my hair and arms.

“Are you crying?” he listened to the little things that were tell-tale signs I was, “What’s wrong?”

I shook my head, “Nothing.”

“Belle, you know you can’t pull that with me. I’ll do it. Don’t you make me,” he threatened.

“No,” I moaned.

“I’ll do it. Ima do it,” he antagonized. Next thing I knew he was tickling me, “Tell me. Tell me,” he demanded as he did so.

“Fine! Give!” I called out about to wet my pants.

“So what is it?”

My smiled turned off like a light, “Um, Miranda wants you to ask her out again.”

“Really?” his face lit up, “Wait why were you upset about that?”

Busted. Wait, no, “I don’t wanna lose my best friend.”

“That’s not gonna happen. No girl could ever pull me away from my best gal pal.”

“Yeah, but there’s something else.”

“What?” his joy was blown away. I didn’t have the heart to tell him about her. Maybe seeing him happy wasn’t so bad. I guess if he’s happy, I should put on a poker-face for him and keep everything to myself like I always have.

I took a deep breath, “She wants to go to that stupid homecoming dance.”

“That’s it? I can do that.”

He seemed so happy. It felt good to know that for a short period of time, I was the source of his happiness. I only wish I was the one he thought of as being the person who would make me happy. All I had now was time to watch him slowly fade into a memory.

He went right home to call her.

I went up to my room; the white, pink floral and pastel purple old-lace bedding, canopy, and floor-length curtains glowed gold in the sunlight with the white walls. There were some old tether pillows in the bay window. The two dressers, vintage lamps and vanity were my grandmother’s from when she lived her. It was me, Little Southern Belle.

I laid down on the bed, ready to sleep. Knock-knock.

“Yes?”

“Belle open up,” a voice that made me just as happy as Brody’s did. My Uncle Emerson (Sonny). I jumped up opening the door. I always remembered him as the spinning image of John Stamos.

“Sonny!” I hugged him.

“How’s my Little Southern Belle?”

The half second I paused, he picked up on the day I had, “Uh . . .”

“He found a girl this year didn’t he?”

Sonny knew about literally everything in my life. He and I have been close since I was born. Even though he was only fifteen he took care of me that summer because my parents had to be out in the barn most of the time. Every summer since, he baby-sat me and Brody when we were over at my house. I was the only girl he had a soft spot for throughout his player years. He may have used me a few time to get girls, but at the end of the day he’d do anything for me. I knew I could go to him with anything if I needed to. And I needed to.

“Yeah.”

“Awe, I’m sorry Baby Belle,” he hugged me again, “Is it that Miranda chick?”

“Yep.”

“Eh, you remember what I told ya about the time I got the hotty of the school?”

“Yeah, but I don’t want her to hurt him.”

“Well then, be his friend through the hell storm, tell it like it is while still having his trust. Trust me Baby Belle; he’ll see something in ya. I’ve known this kid a long time, too and I know he’s a good country boy with the heart of hand-made gold. He’ll come around.”

“Really?” everything he said made me feel a little better about it.

“I’ll be rooting for y’all to end up saying ‘I do’,” he pumped his fist over his head.

“Thanks Sonny. I hope it does turn out like that . . . but kinda hoping to hold off on the ‘I do’ part for a while.”

“Eh, if he felt like that enough to give you a first kiss like that, there’s a spark there that just needs a little more fuel to burn.”

Sonny was probably one of the wisest people I know. He was the player Hick in high school and just got out of a biker’s gang within the past year, so he knew what he was talking about. I trusted what he said hoping it would turn out like that . . . not sure about the I-does yet because I’m only fifteen, but at least having the possibility present was enough.

But I still had to watch him with Miranda for however long they date. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“Com’on Baby Belle,” he looked genuinely sad to see me this upset as he laid next to me leaning over, “Where’s that famous smile?”

I forced a smile. He knew it wasn’t real.

“Would your song help?”

I nodded. He got the song from Full House when Jesse is sing “Michelle Smiling” to her. He’d try to play the guitar while he was babysitting me and I couldn’t sleep. We’d stay up and watch that episode of Full House, and I’d smile singing “My Belle Smiling” (thinking that’s what he was singing) while he played guitar with Jesse.

It cheered me up every time, but very briefly this time.