The Understorey

Page 17

“Here comes the sun, Jules.”
Yes, my sun had definitely arrived.
The next day, I picked Jules up for school. It was Friday and just happened to be my first game of the season. I was nervous about asking Jules to come to my game. I couldn’t have imagined her not being there now that we were together and I was quickly becoming aware of whom she really was to me.
“Good morning sweetheart,” she said, locking her front door.
“Good morning dear.”
I grabbed her bag for her and threw it into the bed of the truck along with mine, then helped her into the cab. On our way to school, I decided to just come out with it.
“So, uh, today’s my first game.” Well come out with half of it, at least.
She had her right elbow rested on the car door and was running her fingers through a large curl. She turned her head toward me and smiled.
“I know.”
She kept her smile wide and her green eyes on mine.
“Well, are you gonna’ make me beg Jules?”
“No, there’s no need baby.”
“So you’ll be there?” I asked, hopeful yet skeptical.
She laughed out loud. “I didn’t quite say that Elliott.”
“Jules! Come on! Please?” I begged anyway, knowing full well that Jules didn’t do anything she didn’t want to.
She was a firecracker, literally and figuratively.
“I would love nothing more than to watch you play, but I have a feeling that showing people at school who we are to each other today will cause enough of a brouhaha. Let’s take this one step at a time, shall we?”
“By people, do you mean Taylor Williams? And Marisa Hartford?”
“And Jesse Thomas doesn’t seem to be that fond of me either. I just don’t want to ruffle any feathers. If you lost this game, they’d all be screaming ‘Yoko’ my direction until we graduated. Football is like a religion here baby and I’m not too keen on being the only one labeled sacrilegious.”
“Jules, that’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard but listen, although I’d love it if  you came, I can’t nor do I want to make you.”
That was a lie. If I could have made her, I would have.
“Thank you sweetheart. Don’t worry. I’ll be cheering, no pun intended, for you from our kitchen table at home. Old reliable local channel nineteen.”
“The kitchen table?” I asked, puzzled.
“Yeah,” she laughed, “it’s the only room in the house with a television.”
“Oh my gosh, your mom is hilarious!”
“I know. Honestly, she seems really harsh around the edges but deep down she is extremely kind and by far is one of the most intelligent women I know.”
That took me utterly by surprise.
“I didn’t know that Jules. I really look forward to getting to know her better then. I assumed that you were nothing like her. I guess I assumed wrong. The way you describe her makes me think you’re a lot like her.”
“Thank you Elliott. I take that as one of the highest compliments.”
I was surprised by the way Jules viewed her mother. I knew for sure right then, I truly should never judge a book by its cover.
I pulled into Lot B and the parking lot was packed.
“You ready for this?” I asked.
“Ready Freddy. Eventually, they’ll all find out that their starting quarterback’s miss is the last one they would have expected, but that’s okay with me because, the truth of the matter is, I have never felt happier than I do when my hand rests inside yours. I’m happy to be myself and I make no excuses.......but, I’m pretty sure you already knew that about me.”
“I did,” I said, wrapping my hand over hers. I turned to face her, “It’s what makes you stronger than every girl in this school Jules. You’re an example of examples babe. You pioneer the self esteem cause in this little high school. Who knows how many girls look at you and are influenced. When their minds are ready, whether it will be now or later in life, they’ll be stronger because of your exuberance for life and independence from peer pressure. You’re amazing Jules.”
“I could kiss you Elliott Gray,” she admitted, a bit starry eyed.
“What’s stopping you?”
Her sarcastic stare burrowed through me, “Hypocrisy. Can’t give into the pressures of society, remember? You’re just going to have to wait.”
“Jules!”
I got out, collected myself as best I could and coolly strolled to her side of the truck and opened her door for her. By the time the handle had clicked, at least a hundred eyes were staring in our direction and those hundred eyes were grabbing the attention of a hundred more. Great, so much for discrete, I thought. We should have come earlier, less nerve racking.
I took her hand and helped her out of the truck. I grabbed our bags, never breaking my grip on Jules’ hand and began to walk toward the double doors. This feeling that emanated through me from her forced me to stop about a hundred feet from the doors. I turned to face Jules. I couldn’t take another step without looking into her eyes. I was too hungry for her gaze. She looked at me strangely when I brushed her hair over her shoulders and trailed my finger down her jaw line.
I placed my arm around Jules’ shoulder to send a clear message to those wondering what was going on between us and started walking once more, a message clear enough that people would accept it immediately and move on. Jules was mine, mine for me to care for, always. And I was hers, for definitely all the same reasons, I hoped.
“What was that all about Casanova?”
“Courage. Needed courage,” I lied.
I let her warmth rush over me and let the beat of my own heart resonate with the extra life she gave to me. It touched the tips of my toes and fingers and swirled through my head. It was a peculiar feeling, something I hadn’t felt on that first day, something new. I was curious to know where it had come from and why. I knew it wasn’t from our shared supernatural current, though it definitely was supernatural, just not associated with our unique gifts. It was something different, something I couldn’t quite put my finger on.
We were a pretty visible distraction, the pair of us. Jules looked like a Barbie doll next to me. Well, a seriously original and unique Barbie doll. Okay, scratch that. The only thing Barbie doll-like about Jules was her insanely long legs and crazy long hair, everything else was Jules’. Her rocker-Victorian style was exclusively hers.
Everyone looking at Jules gave me the feeling that many, many girls wanted to copy her but were too chicken to do so. I also knew every guy around me was probably wondering how the heck I got her. It was the first time I was happy to be six foot four. It was sort of nice to be slightly feared for my size. I towered over Jules, despite the fact that she was also tall, I guessed about five foot eight. We were both some of the tallest in our class and it just added an extra red circle to the target we were both already carrying.
Jules was also breathtakingly beautiful. I looked like a lumberjack in comparison. Her skin was flawless and pale as porcelain. I didn’t have time to shave that morning and was looking pretty scruffy. Jules wore these jeans that made her legs look like they went for miles. I wore a faded pair of jeans that I had put in the dryer the night before and forgot about so they were wrinkled as heck.
It was a bit chilly that morning so Jules wore an olive green, very feminine light knit beret over her freshly washed curled hair. I wore a wool cap from ten years ago over hair that should have been cut two months before. My hair reached just below my chin now and the cap kept it out of my eyes. Jules wore shin length brown leather moccasins over her jeans and I wore boots that were so heavy even a biker wouldn’t wear them.
Jules wore a thin, dark red floor length sweater jacket over a white tank. I wore a wrinkled button up sweater over an old Led Zeppelin t-shirt that used to belong to my dad in the seventies. Plus, my contacts were bothering me that morning so I had to wear my black rimmed ‘Buddy Holly’ glasses. We were night and day. I was night and she was day. She was amazing and I was a massive mess. Suddenly, I felt very self-conscious.
“Stop stressing babe. You look hot,” she said, reading the way I felt through our touch.
“Thank you sweetheart, but I’m no fool. I know what I look like.”
“You’re really that clueless? Elliott, every girl here falls over for your casual sexiness. You don’t even try and yet you possess this Johhny Depp ‘I’m a mess yet drool worthy hotness. You kinda’ suck,” she giggled, which made me remove my cap and run my fingers through my hair out of nervousness. “And if you run your fingers through that hair of yours one more time, I think I’m going to hit the wall.” She exhaled sharply then looked at me. “I know you’re stressing about your glasses too because you keep messing with them but your geek magnetism just makes you all the more appealing, not to mention the eyes underneath the glasses! Your eyes are like the brightest blue I’ve ever seen in my life. I swear you could hypnotize with those eyes.”
“This is a really uncomfortable subject for me. No more please. Let’s change it or I’ll require a bonfire of the vanities or something.”
“No way, I love my curling iron and makeup.”
I laughed.
“I meant for me doofus. You’re the least vain person I know.”
“Uh, oh,” she said. “Here comes Jesse.”
I could feel her stomach tighten in anxiety through our shared touch when he approached. I squeezed her hand to relieve some of the tension.
“Hey Jesse,” I said casually.
“Hey,” he said with a nod but as he walked by he scoffed a condescending snort.
What a jerk.
“I know,” Jules said in response.
“You felt that?” I asked, totally forgetting Jesse Thomas.
“Yeah, I’m starting to be able to hone specific feelings to specific thoughts now. It’s kind of awesome.”
“I’ll say.”
We reached Jules’ door to Mrs. Hill’s art class and stood just beside it for a few minutes talking. Jules had her back to the wall, her head resting against the tile and I leaned my shoulder on the bit of wall right next to her and folded my arms into each other.  I stared at her for a moment. Her eyes were the most beautiful green I’d ever seen. She stared back. Silence was not uncomfortable for Jules and I. We spoke volumes in that silence.
“Teach me how to hone down specific feelings Jules,” I said, smiling from our eye contact.
“Okay.”
I reached my hand for her face but she shooed it away.
“Let me be the one to touch. I think you’ll be able to concentrate better on what I’m feeling.”
She repositioned herself and turned her body towards me leaving a shoulder to rest against the tile wall. She raised her hand and placed it around my throat.
“There are lots of nerve endings in the neck. I think that would be a good place for us to practice,” she said softly. “Okay, I’m going to think of specific things that I know will trigger certain responses in me but I’ll tell you each thing I’m feeling as it comes to me. That way, you can start to associate. Ready?”