Turtle Trauma

Jessie lives life in her own little world. But when Devin steps in, Jessie gets the chance to see life from a brighter point of view. At least until he's gone.

Turtle Trauma

My cell phone buzzed during English class, and I quickly pulled it out of my skinny jean’s pocket.  The screen on my phone informed me I had a new text message from Lyss. Seen as I wasn’t exactly talking to her right now, I shoved the phone back in my pocket and continued to doodle on the notebook paper I was pretending to take notes on.

“That’s a pretty good turtle,” him again. In a school this small I couldn’t expect him to not be in any of my classes.  I didn’t acknowledge his compliment. Beside me, I heard the click of preppy heels walking towards my desk. What on earth could one of them want with me?

“Do you want to work with me?” Sara’s sugary-sweet voice dripped in my ear. I took a deep breath to calm myself, deciding using foul language would just confuse her non-existent brain.

“No, I don’t.” I said, looking up for the first time. Then I realized she wasn’t talking to me. She was talking to Devin. The w***e was standing just a little too close to him for a friendly conversation. The oblivious boy didn’t even realize, or was enjoying, the awkwardness of her proximity. As much as I hated them both, no one deserved the kind of torture Sara Jay was famous for.  So, despite my common sense screaming profanity at me in the back of my head, I spoke up quickly, “He’s already working with me.”

“Oh,” Sara flicked a piece of curly brown hair over her shoulder and giving Devin what she thought was an adorable pout, “oh really?”

“Uh, yeah, I guess.” Devin shrugged, and sat in the seat next to mine. For the second time today I resisted the urge to stick out my tongue; but not at him. This time directed at the oh-so-mighty Sara.  She clicked back to her side of the room, and I suppressed an eye roll.

“You’re welcome,” I said, just loud enough for him to hear. He stopped writing for a second to glance over at me, and seemingly snorted with a shake of his head.

“Don’t slap me for saying this, but are you going to do your page?” He gestured with the point of his pencil to the blank sheet of paper sitting on my desk.

I rewarded him with a small smile, “Don’t give me ideas.”

“Watch me,” He said. I turned to face him, resting the side of my head against my fist. I stared at him, mocking, pointed, focused. He glanced in my direction several times questioningly. “What are you doing?”

I imitated him in my best guy-voice, “Watch me,” Then with a roll of my eyes converted to my normal voice, “I’m doing exactly what you told me to.”

“Smart a*s,” he mumbled under his breath.

I pulled a blue colored pencil out of my backpack, “Is that a compliment or an insult?”

“Both.”  He watched me as I colored in the turtle I had drawn earlier with a hint of amusement glittering in his eyes. “Since when are turtles blue?”

I saved his a*s from Sara; couldn’t he just leave me alone? “Since I lost my green pencil.” He reached into his bag and pulled out a green highlighter and placed it on my desk. “I’ve already colored half of the f*****g turtle.”

“Just trying to help,” he said with a shrug, and then placed the highlighter back in his bag and returned to his work. As I finished coloring the turtle, I counted how long it would take him to talk again. Two minutes and twenty-three seconds later, “You know, I think there is a kind of blue turtle that live in Australia or something.”

I glared at him, “Could you let me not do my work in peace, please?”

He gave me a boyish grin, “No, I don’t think so.”

I ran my hand though my hair and rolled my neck, “If I knew you were going to be this annoying I would have let you work with Sara.”

“That brunette chick?” He pointed over at the queen of s***s. 

“Yeah, her.” I glanced up at the clock. Only ten more minutes. Whatever I did to deserve this I regretted it. Probably the only bad thing I’d ever regret or admit to doing.

“You don’t like her?” No, we were just the best of friends.  That’s why I dumped ice cream on her head in second grade, and she spent her entire fifth grade year ruining my life.

“That’s an understatement. She can go to hell. I’ll push her down myself.” I crossed my arms and leaned back in my chair, stretching out my legs out under my desk.

“Ah,” Devin’s single syllable realization. “I thought she seemed nice.” And it was definitely her niceness that was attracting him, and not her see-through white shirt with a neckline that dipped so low it was uncomfortable to look at. And it couldn’t possibly be her skin-tight jeans or too-high heels that made her seem ‘nice’.

“Of course you would,” The words slipped out of my mouth before I thought about them.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” What do you think? I didn’t respond. He hadn’t earned a response. The second someone calls Sara nice I lose any respect I had for them, if I had any at all. Only five more minutes I had to keep quiet, before I said something stupid again.

The curiosity was killing me, “Why didn’t you rat me out for what happened this morning?”

He shrugged again, and sighed, “I don’t know.” He paused for a minute. “When I lived in Texas my next door neighbors were my best friends, so I thought-”

I finished his sentence, “we’d end up as friends? Sorry, I’m not the friend type.” Or the ‘neighborly’ type. Or the ‘nice’ type. Or really any positive type at all. People looked at me, and usually took two steps back before they could get within biting distance, and didn’t come back. 

Apparently, he wasn’t reading the warning signs, “I saw you with that other girl earlier in the hallway-“

“Stalker,”

He ignored my comment, “Are you two friends?”

My eyes flickered to my phone, curiosity beginning to bubble at the exact contents of the text message she sent me, “When we’re not ready to rip each other’s heads off.”

“So,” He edged me on. I wasn’t going to give him what he wanted.

“So, what?” I wasn’t playing games. Not with this boy. I was just…entertaining myself.

He sighed, looked at me, and shook his head, “Well, you two are obviously friends-“

“That’s what you think,”

Again, Devin ignored my comment, “And you have to be nice to make friends.”

I leaned back on the chair and rolled my eyes, “Fine, somewhere way way way deep down, there might be a scrap of kindness in me. Happy?” I pulled my phone out of my pocket, and opened up her message.

Srry bout lunch. We can still partay. I can w8 till nxt year 4 homecomin.

It was about time she realized her mistake. I half smiled, then turned back to Devin. “Sorry, did you say something?”

He peered over at my cell phone, looking for the source of my smile, and then granting me an eye roll when I snapped it shut.

“What the hell are you looking at?” I mumbled.

He crossed his arms defensively as the bell rang, “Nothing.”

“That’s what I thought.” And with that I stood up and brought my backpack with me, leaving the entertainment behind.

Author's Note

Any thought would be great.

Reviews

[Daydreamer54]

She's a bit nice under her mean streak if she was able to dsave him from sara. can't wait for her to warm up to him, he's just being nice. :/