Jesse's POV987Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡC4ZJ1BOSaz
987Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡE0ejFO5i4e
I was sitting restlessly at my desk. The hands of the clock were moving agonizingly slowly. Today was last the day of junior year and I didn't want to spend another minute at school before the summer holidays. Not that I had anything exciting planned. All summer break I would probably just practice my photography. Just like I did every other year.
The bell rang and I rose out of my chair silently. I did most things silently. It was a gift really, and also a contributing factor as to why I was hard to notice. On my way out, I saw students returning from the beach. Most of the seniors ditched school on the last day to go to the beach. They were all shouting excitedly about what they had planned for the summer and bidding their farewells. I avoided them not wanting to get sand on myself and went on the school bus. Just like I did every other year. I sat at the back of the bus and plugged my earphones into my outdated phone and listened to some music. Before I knew it I had arrived home.
The first thing that indicated that this summer would not be just like every other, was the large moving truck parked in front of the house next to mine. I remembered that my childhood best friend used to live there. The only friend I'd ever really had. She moved away in the 6th grade because of her father's work. I couldn't really miss her since my memory of her was foggy.
I walked to the front door and opened it while still looking at the moving truck. The new neighbors were obviously inside now since all the lights were on and there was loud chatter and music coming from one particular window. The one right across mine.
Great. A loud neighbor, I thought as I stepped into the house.
I lived in a very plain house. It was large but the inside had no character. The walls were the whitest you could find on the market and were clad with boring art pieces that my mother collected and some old staged family photos. Everything was measured and symmetrical and had an exact place.
"I'm home mother," I said into the almost empty house. my voice echoed slightly.
"I'm not old enough to be called mother," replied a woman's voice. Standing at the kitchen counter was a petite woman in her late 40s. She had greying dark hair sticking up all over the place from the hot cooking air.
"How was school," she asked as she scurried around the kitchen.
"Mind-blowing," I replied sarcastically
My mum didn't bat an eyelash as she was the one that I inherited my sarcasm from.
"Hard to believe" she muttered "did you go to the beach"
She was always trying to convince me to socialize more. I was fine with her. With her, I could be myself. I could tell as many bad jokes as I wanted and be guaranteed that she'd laugh at them. Because her sense of humor was crud and she'd laugh at anything. But I always seemed to keep my guards up when I was with others. My father included.
"I hate beaches, there so outdoorsy," I said
"Oh god, who ever heard of an outdoor beach" she teased
I chuckled.
"I wasn't invited anyway," I added
Eyebrows shot up in surprise.
"You have to be invited to those things now?"
I shrugged in reply since I didn't feel like talking about school in the summer holidays.
"Well I have to finish cooking so freshen up and get ready, your father's coming from work in 3 hours" her blue eyes-similar to mine- darkened at the mention of her husband.
I caught the look but pretended not to as I made my way up the stairs.
My room was probably the most exciting one in the whole house. Instead of pure white walls, they were grey. Huge contrast. But for a teenage boy's bedroom, it was a bore. There was a bed, a desk, and a small walk-in closet.
There were no pictures on the wall even though I was a photographer. Only because every time I put up my own photography up i find all the faults in it and regret taking the photo. That's why I never looked at pictures too long.
I put my bag down and sat on my bed. I took out my laptop and camera and began transferring my photos. I always liked to do this in peace. It was just me and my captured moments. Like every other year. I was looking at the increasing number percentage on the screen.
97%
98%
99%
*Clang*
"Oh fuck!"
I was interrupted by the voice of a shouting girl. It came from next door. From the window right across mine. I looked up from the laptop and looked out the window. The curtains were at an odd angle as if someone had done it halfway then abruptly stopped. I could see a silhouette of a girl jumping up and down and swearing about her foot and the stupid curtain rods.
So that's what made the noise.
The girl was still muttering curses when she went back to fix the curtain. She lifted the curtain and saw me looking out into her window.
Shit
Instead of flipping the bird at me and swearing me off like I thought she would. Her face broke into the biggest smiled I'd ever seen. I wasn't really used to people- especially girls - smiling at me so I just stood there. Fortunately, she went running away from the window like a madman before she could notice my odd reply.
I sat back on the bed. The uploading was done. I never knew what to do with all these pictures. There were never pictures of people. Only because 1) I had no friends 2) people don't like it when you capture there moments without their permission 3) people insisted on posing in photos which I don't like.
I started fiddling with my camera to see if anything needed fixing because I had a feeling that I would be taking a lot of photos this summer.
Moments later the doorbell rang. I didn't get up because I knew it was probably just one of my mother's many friends. There were some girly shrieks (mostly from my mother) and exclaims about how beautiful the other person looked.
Convinced that a friend of my mother was over, I remained where I sat, facing the door. I wanted to take a photo to see how it would come out since I hadn't used my camera for a while. Just as I clicked on the capture button, I heard the footsteps. Fast ones right at my door. It was too late to go back now. The door opened to reveal the bipolar girl from next door. Now that she was closer, I realized that her eyes were a hazel. More green than brown. She was smiling in the photo as if she were looking forward to something. I lowered the camera and was met with the exact opposite expression in the photo.
''Are you stalking me, Jesse?"
I did a double take at that when I realized that the crazy new neighbor was in my room asking him if I was stalking them. So I said the most logical thing that one would say in such a situation,
"Huh?"
"Don't tell me you don't remember me" she stopped observing the room and her hazel eyes landed on my dark blue ones.
As far as I knew, I didn't know any girls outside of my family. Unless she was some crazy long lost cousin. If I had met a girl like her, I'm sure i would remember. Vividly.
The blank look on my face confirmed that I didn't.
"That's odd, I'm a very hard person to forget" She was looking at the book titles on my shelf now.
I came to my senses and asked a question that would probably get me somewhere.
"Who are you?"
She had a mischievous glint in her eyes.
''I go by many names'' she said dramatically.
I waited for her to continue but she didn't look like she was about to.
"Which are?"
"Some call me the Notorious B.I.T.C.H, others call me Luci, short for Lucifer, and Macaroni is a very common pseudonym believe it or not."
I was still sitting there not knowing what people normally did in the presence of crazy neighbors.
"You, however, used to call me Cammie," she said with meaning.
Realization hit me like a brick and I soon found myself smiling almost as big as the girl.
"Cameron?"
"No, it's Maximus Decimus Meridius."
She was in the middle of an eye roll when a voice yelled for her through the window.
"I see you're still an idiot," she said before flashing another big smile and bolting out of the house just as fast as she'd entered.
I was alone again with my thoughts and captured moments. This time with one extra. I looked at the photo of the beaming girl on my camera and was certain that this year would not be like every other year.
Definitely not like every other year.
***
AN
Constructive criticism is appreciated.
ns 15.158.61.51da2
