Making A Statement

“So, what do you think?”
Courtney sashayed out of the fitting room and struck a pose in front of me. Clad in a pair of hip-hugging jeans and a silky white halter, she almost looked like a runway model about to hit the catwalk. Tall and slender, with dark curly hair and a set of piercing green eyes, she was the envy of every girl at our school.
“And remember, as my best friend it’s your honour bound duty to tell me the truth. This outfit could end up getting me my dream guy.”
I sighed wearily. The girl could walk down the street wearing a garbage bag and people would stop to admire her. It wasn’t her looks she needed to worry about. It was her deeply flawed personality. Blunt, arrogant, demanding and loud, she sent most guys running within the first few weeks. I don’t think she’d ever held a boyfriend longer than a month. Still, that obviously hadn’t dampened her spirits in her endeavour to find Mr. Right. She’d already been through half the student body. He’s gotta be close, right?
“Well, in that case. Your a*s looks huge in those jeans.”
I watched as she spun around like a dog chasing its tail, trying to get a good look at her backside. I cracked up laughing and thought, for all her flaws, she was the best friend a girl like me could ever have.
“I’m kidding. Anything you wear looks good on you. So I don’t know why I’m here. You don’t need my expert opinion. Guys would chase you wearing a plastic bag.” I lounged out over the comfy chairs provided for people waiting to try on clothes. We were the only two in here, the store was having a slow day.
Unconvinced by my solid argument, Courtney turned to face the full length mirror, shifting her weight from side to side, pouting at her reflection.
“You’re here because we’re celebrating you getting your right hand back. And what better way is there to do that than go on a shopping spree?”
I looked down at my right hand, flexing it. The stitches had come out earlier that week, leaving me with a prominent scar that ran in a vertical line from my wrist to the base of my fingers. The doctor told me it would fade over time. I hoped not. It looked kind of cool. Like a battle scar.
“Besides, we need to get you some killer threads for school next week. We can’t have you rocking up in your usual getup. It’s so last season. We’re seniors now, we need to make a statement!” Not bothering to go back into the fitting room, she shimmied out of the jeans, revealing a pair of bright red lace panties. I handed her another pair from the mountain of prospective clothes we’d dragged in here to try on.
“Yes, well I don’t want my statement to be ‘I’m a s**t, come and get me!’. That may work for you, but I’m a bit more reserved.”
“Hey!” She chucked the discarded pants at me, laughing. “You know, I should totally be offended by that comment.” She pulled on the pants I’d given her. A pair of red skinny jeans. I threw her a strapless top to match them with.
“Pretty hard to be offended when it’s true.”
“Yeah, well. What about you? You dumped that loser Aidan a month ago and every time I point out a cute guy you make up excuses.” She yanked off the white halter and replaced it with the black strapless. “You’re always like, “His hairs too short. He’s not tall enough. His eyes aren’t blue. He’s not tan enough.” Girl, anyone would think you’ve got a certain guy in mind.”
I froze. Oh, my god. Bad imitation of my voice aside, she was spot on. Now that I thought about it, everything she’d just said made me think of Tyson. The bright blue eyes. The evenly tanned skin. The long, dark hair. My mind honed in on the memory of him carrying me into the E.R a month ago. The way his strong arms held me. Remembering all of that made my cheeks burn and my ears turn red.
“Oh. Em. Gee!” Courtney immediately jumped on my hesitation at denying there was a certain someone. “Who is he? Do I know him?” All thoughts of shopping banished, she got right up in my face demanding answers and barely containing her excitement. I mean, it wasn’t very often her best friend was interested in someone.
“Tell me, tell me!”
“Um.” A half hearted denial was on the tip of my tongue when my phone vibrated in my pocket. Checking the caller ID I saw it was another call from Aidan, the moron.
Courtney leaned over my shoulder and made a noise of disgust.
“Ugh! Is that toad calling again? I thought after a hundred rejected phone calls he would get a clue.”
“Please. He wouldn‘t know a clue if it hit him over the head.” I moved my thumb over to the end call button but before I could press it Courtney snatched the phone out of my hand.
“Whoa, what are you doing?” I tried to snatch it back but she held it over her head, way out of my reach. Seriously, the girl had five inches on me. So unfair.
“Hitting him over the head with a clue” she said, as if it was obvious.
“Courtney, no. Come on -”
Too late. She pressed talk and put the phone to her ear.
“Hey, EX boyfriend. Stop calling. She doesn’t want to hear your pathetic apologies.” Courtney paused while Aidan began shouting obscenities at her, demanding she put me on the phone. “Listen, a*s! You don’t get to push my girl through a window and then act like she’s the one who wronged you. I don’t care how long ago it was! I don’t care that you think it’s old news! She has a scar thanks to you, you prick. Stay away from her, or I‘ll walk all up and down your sorry a*s!”
She hit the end button and handed me back my phone, smiling broadly.
“God that felt good. And don’t think I won’t make good on that last part. If he annoys you at all, let me know. I’ll go Bruce Lee on his butt!” She flung her arms up in what she thought to be a deadly karate pose.
I burst out laughing at how ridiculous she looked. Gotta love her enthusiasm. Also gotta lover her short attention span. She’d completely forgotten our little boy talk moment. And I sure as hell wasn’t going to refresh her memory.
“Come on Bruce, I’m starving. Hurry up so we can get out of here.”

Several hours later I let myself into the house, laden down with shopping bags. I’d asked Courtney if she wanted to stay the night but she had a family dinner to attend. Looking around the dark entryway, I sighed heavily. What a sad and lonely place. With my older brother Riley out of the country on business, all that greeted me when I got home was silence. A deafening silence so loud it gave the house an eerie feel. Dumping the bags in the entryway I made my way down the hall and into the kitchen, flipping on light switches as I went. The phone on the kitchen counter beeped at me letting me know I had a message. Wow, make that 11 messages. Three guesses who the majority were from. Still, I couldn’t delete them all without listening to them in case one was from Riley checking up on me. Stifling a groan, I hit play and opened the fridge, grabbing some greens and tomatoes for a salad.

“Yo, it’s Aidan. Why aren’t you returning my calls? Hit me up when you get this.”
Beep.
I made an ugly face at the machine and began slicing a cucumber.
“Come on, No. This is getting old. Pick up already.”
Beep.
“You’re telling me,” I muttered.
And so I begrudgingly listened to the rest of the messages, all similar to the first except the very last one.
“Hey Noah. Just checking to see how things are going. Hopefully you haven’t burned the house to the ground. I should be back in a few weeks, all going well. I know school starts next Monday. Use the credit card to get whatever you need -”
“Way ahead of you big bro,” I said, remembering all of the bags I’d left in the entryway.
“But don’t go crazy. Anyway, I have to go. Miss you. Love you. Don’t forget to check in.”
Beep.

I finished up my salad and took it into the spacious living room. A 100” plasma was bracketed to the wall surrounded by plush, black leather armchairs and two seaters. The whole room screamed money, with expensive art pieces mounted to the walls at various intervals and a grand ten seater dining table off to the left of the room. Even the carpet looked expensive, which it was. Ivory in colour, it was so thick my feet sank a few inches every time I stepped on it. Heck, it was thick enough to sleep comfortably on. All these luxuries were the result of my parents commercial shipping company. When they died a few years ago they left us the business, and since then Riley had doubled the size of the company and was now swamped with work. On the upside, we had more money than we knew what to do with. All profits were divided equally between us with me getting a generous five thousand dollars a month in allowance, plus extra money Riley left me when he had to go on a business trip. Courtney was constantly telling me I’d hit the jackpot, and that if anyone else knew what kind of lifestyle I lived they’d be totally jealous.
“Who wouldn’t want to live in a big fancy house, with plasmas in every room, and loads of cash?” she’d say every time I complained about the house being too big or about never having enough dishes to load the dishwasher with.
I guess she was right.
Yet, as I sat down on one of the couches, munching on my salad, I couldn’t help but think: What was the point of having a huge 4 bedroom house if only one person was living in it most of the time? Why did we need a ten seater dining table when I was the only one who ever ate at it? What was with all the spare seats in the house? I cursed as a depressing mood overtook me. Great. Now I was lonely and sad.
But truthfully, all of the stuff that occupied our house just made me feel the loneliness even more. Almost as if the furniture was mocking me with its emptiness.
Suddenly not hungry anymore, I dumped the rest of my salad in the bin and headed to my room, trying to escape my depressing mood.