(P11) 48 Hours to Get to Know a Person

Instructions

(Yes this series is continuing! but not as often over the summer as i have camps and things. buckle up, june and kai still have plenty left in their story...(=< normal warnings!) Chapter 18: June Things I never thought I'd do: ~Miss a mark because I misread the question ~Get cast as a minor role in the sixth grade play ~Go two days without changing clothes (ugh) ~Have my face on the news Tuesday, Oct 9th, 6:55am I don't know if there's anything more terrifying than learning that you were on tv, right where all your classmates could see, with your awful, awful school picture up for a good twenty seconds while they chattered about you going missing. Petrifying, that's what it was. I hate pictures. I'm not photogenetic, and when you add in the perfectionist bit? I see a photo of myself and can't help picking apart every flaw. I hate it. I also am not a fan of attention in general, especially when it's not because I'm head of the class, or some other good thing. It's because last Friday, Kai and I were reported missing. For nearly three days, our peers thought us as good as d34d. It's the biggest tragedy our little town has ever seen. How does someone who was thought d34d dress on her first day back to school? The thought makes my stomach twist with nerves. Normally, I suppose. I don't want to make anything a bigger deal than it is. I've had enough of pleated skirts for the next two years-they're not the most comfortable sleeping attire, especially when tight-so I pull on a pair of light jeans and a sweater that may not be the most flattering to my form, but is excellent for comfort, large and soft. I fear I'm going to need that comfort today. For a moment, I consider reaching for my glasses, thinking back on Kai's words. I frown at myself. I've thought a lot more about the blonde-haired, sea-blue eyed, rosy-cheeked chaotic boy in the past twenty-four hours than I'm happy to admit. I suppose that's normal though. When you go through a life-changing experience with someone, they tend to stick around in your head. In the end, I leave the glasses in their case. I've already chosen an outfit not for the look but for the feel, and you don't rush these sorts of things. Baby steps. I hurry down the stairs and to the kitchen, where Beck's eyes are glued to the television, watching the recap of some basketball game. Cocoa Puffs and a jug of milk is out on the table-the cereal we keep hidden for special occasions, when our parents are out of the house. They don't really approve of breakfast foods containing such a high quality of sugar. I grab the box and shake some into a bowl, noticeably a lot less than how much Beck has. I'm a lot more mindful than he is about eating. "You should have some protein." I tell him, rifling through our cabinets. "Don't we have, I dunno, microwavable bacon or something?" Beck shakes his head. "I didn't have much time to worry about bacon, Junebug. I thought you were d34d." He walks over and ruffles my hair. I bat him ruffly away. "You and everyone else in the world." I mumble, darkly. Then I scowl. "And I told you to stop calling me that when I was six." Beck sighs. "Ah yes. The day you lost all foolish childhood notions and innocence. How could I forget." I smack his arm. "Beck! It's stupid." "Would it k`!! you to do something st^pid for once?" The way he says it makes it sound like this is about more than just a nickname. He bites his lip, watching me, emotions undecipherable in his eyes. "You're still a kid, y'know, June. Not everything has to be so serious." I don't respond as I begin fixing my breakfast. Beckett doesn't understand. Serious is how I work. My life has to be neat and organized for me to function. For me to push past every word anyone's ever said that hurt me, anything that's ever brought me pain. My world is broken. And it takes a serious hand to patch up what you can in a broken world. Chapter 19: Kai Things that hurt the worst: ~Getting hit in the special place ~Stubbing your toe (RIDICULOUSLY PAINFUL) ~Paper cut (AGAIN, IT SHOULD NOT HURT THAT BAD) ~When adults say the dreaded line 'I'm not mad, I'm just...disappointed' ~When someone tears up the drawing you spent three hours on and laughs in your face (Please just don't even ask) ~Whatever is going on in my chest right now, every time I think of June *bangs head on desk* Tuesday, Oct 9th, 11:09am Isn't it such a crime that inspiration always seems to strike the second it's least convenient? For example, I can sketch on graph notebook paper we're supposed to be using for algebra like nobody's business. A sketchbook? In art class? Yeah, no. I am a firm believer that children should not have to do school when their brains feel like mushed Play-Doh. See: Kai Ander Brooks, right as we speak. My eyes blur as Mr. Grove drones on and on and ON about the proper formatting for paragraphs. Which I'm pretty sure we were taught years ago. Do I remember? No. But that's beside the point.