Jack In The Box Girl: Chapter One

Chapter One: An (Un)Welcome Friend

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

I awoke to my alarm clock blaring. My hand shot out, almost out of necessity, to shut off the annoying noise that woke me from my sleep. Hitting the snooze button, the noise ceased. It was six-twenty. What a God-awful hour to wake up at!

“Allan,” my mother yelled up the stairs. “Get dressed!”

“Yeah, yeah,” I mumbled into my pillow. “I’m up, I’m up.” And I then promptly fell back to sleep.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

“Allan, get up this instant! You only have five minutes until the bus comes.”

“Who in the hell made these fuckin’ things?” I asked to no one in particular, as I grabbed the clock and yanked the cord out of the wall. Climbing out of bed (okay, I fell out of bed! Are you happy now?) I walked over to my dresser, whose drawers were already open, since I rarely close them. Out of the top drawer, I took out a fresh pair of boxers, which was adorned with the Joe Boxer logo every four centimeters. Switching them for the ones I was currently wearing, I scanned the floor for a pair of pants.

Glancing at the mirror sitting in my room, I saw icy blue eyes staring back at me, underneath a mass of long black hair that came down to my shoulders. I stood at five foot seven, about two inches shorter than my father, with no indication of growing any taller. Finding a pair of loose, black pants that looked relatively clean, I stepped into them. I grabbed a ponytail off the dresser, and pulled my hair back into a blaze. Then, after taking off the white shirt I was wearing, I slipped on a dark green shirt, sporting a picture of Drowning Pool, and putting my wallet in my pocket, I walked downstairs.

“Hurry up, you’re going to miss your bus,” my mother called out of the kitchen. “You don’t want to be late your first day of school, do you?” Grunting something unintelligible, I walked into the living room, stepped into my shoes, grabbed my backpack, and walked out the door. I made it to the corner of the sidewalk, where my little sister, Penny, and a girl with auburn colored hair that came down to her upper back, and wearing a yellow shirt with a bright blue and red jack-in-the-box on it, and tight blue jeans, were already waiting, just as the bus arrived.

Stumping onto the bus last, I took a quick scan around and saw that there was an empty seat four rows from the back. I moved straight there, and sat down as the bus lurched forward.

The bus made one more stop, where a big black guy, wearing completely white, got on. He then proceeded to tell Jack-In-The-Box-Girl to ‘get out of his seat, before he slapped her out of it’. Sighing heavily, she picked up her pack, stood up, and walked over to my seat. Kicking my backpack out of the way, I scooted over.

“What a fuckin’ prick,” I remarked to her.

“You have no idea,” she said back. “I mean, he does that to everybody, all the time too. I mean, if it was just once in a while, nobody would really care, but it happens every goddam day! I swear, one day he’s going to really regret being such an asshole all the time, because it’s gonna come back to bite him in the ass!” She was just chattering away at me, a total stranger, like I was her best friend. “Either that, or he’s gonna end up in jail, because someone stood up to him. I mean it would be really great if someone actually did stand up to him, but he’s strong enough that he could probably give Batista a run for his money. I mean does he work out all the time, or what? His muscles are huge! Y’know what I think? I think that he takes steroids. And also—”

At this point, I just cut her off. “Actually, to be completely honest, I don’t give a shit. Please stop talking. Thank you.” She stared at me for a moment, frowning.

“And also…” Sighing, I leaned back and closed my eyes. After arriving at school, I walked over to a door marked Councilor’s Office, and walked in.

“May I help you,” asked the lady sitting behind the desk. She was a small woman, in her early thirties, with brunette hair tied in a tight bun.

“Uh, yeah. I’m new here, and don’t know my schedule.” Pursing her lips, she asked my name. “Allan Hartie.”

“Mrs. Koppler’s room,” she said, looking over her left shoulder, at an open door. Walking to the door, I saw one of the oldest people that I’ve ever seen in my whole sixteen years of life. Her skin seemed to be two sizes too big for her face, with all the wrinkles and folds present. And on her nose, was a wart. A giant wart. Nice.

“Yes?” Her voice was rather shaky, and her hands trembled with what I supposed to be arthritis. And her wart mocked me. I’m not quite sure how it did this, but I took offence to everything it did. It was wobbling at me.

“Um, I’m new here, and don’t know my schedule.”

“Name, please.” Kill it! It mocks me!

“Allan Hartie.” She typed it into a computer, and printed out a sheet of paper. “Thanks.” I all but ran from the room. I had to escape the horrible wart. I had nothing against the woman. She seemed nice enough to me. But the damn wart was killing me.

As I walked back into the halls, I checked out my schedule:

Junior Class schedule

First Period: English 7:03-8:00

Second Period (Home Room): Economics 8:03-9:00

Third Period: Math 9:03-10:00

Fourth Period: Spanish 10:03-11:00

Lunch: 11:00-11:30

Fifth Period: Science 11:33-12:30

Sixth Period: Physical Education 12:33-1:30

Seventh Period: Home Economics 1:33-2:30

Advisory Period: 2:33-3:00

“…I hate my life.” Resigning myself to a bad day, I went to the specified room for English. “Room 1-8-7. Cute. Real cute.” As soon as I walked in, I slouched to the back of the room, and sat down.

The teacher walked in, and sat before her desk. Looking at her computer, she called out everyone’s name. After roll call, she announced that there was a new seating chart, which was in alphabetical order. I sat four seats back from the front row, on the far left edge. To my right sat a girl named Rebecca Haster, who wasn’t here today.

“Well,” the teacher, whose name I didn’t know, began, “today we-“

The door slammed open, and Jack-In-The-Box-Girl walked in. I began muttering under my breath. “Sorry I’m late, Mrs. Petrin, I was talking to Mr. Jenko.” She handed the teacher— Mrs. Petrin— a note.

“Thank you, Rebecca.” I let my head fall to my desk, emitting an audible thump that made a couple of girls begin giggling. “We have a new seating chart, so if you will please sit next to our new student, Mr.,” She checked her computer, “Allan Hartie.” Well, I thought, as she sat beside me, I guess today can’t get any worse… “Allan, would you like to come up and introduce yourself?” Curse Murphy, and his law!

“Umm. Not particularly. Why?” Several people snickered at this comment.

“Oh, come now, Allan, don’t be shy. We’re all friends here.” I don’t think she knows what she’s talkin’ about… All friends here, indeed! “Come up to the front, please.” Heaving a great sigh, I stood up, and walked to the front of the room.

“Well, my name is Allan. I’m sixteen, and currently attend Memphis High School. That about covers it.”

As I began walking back toward my seat, Mrs. Petrin said,” Oh, you can do better than that, can’t you?”

Sighing again, I returned to the front of the class, attempting to ignore the giggles, and snorts from the other students. “All right, since you’d all like to know about me, I’ll take questions. Anybody?”

I was about to return to my seat, when Jack-In-The-Box-Girl (I refuse to call her by her name, because she raised her hand) raised her hand, and asked, “What hobbies do you have?”

Damn her! What I said aloud was, “Well, I listen to music and I play a little guitar.”

“Nothing else?”

Why, oh why do you hate me, God? “Well, I also like to think up ways to contradict everyone, if that counts.”

Jack-In-The-Box-Girl shook her head. “I’m not sure I understand you.”

“Never mind…”

I took another quick scan around the room, and heard White-Black-Guy mutter “He’s pretty outgoing for an Emo…” in a voice meant to carry. His voice was sort of ragged, almost gravelly. Ignoring him, I quickly sat down in my seat, before Jack-In-The-Box-Girl could ask another question.

“Thank you, Allan. Now, since we were talking about romanticized writing yesterday, we brought up Edgar Allen Poe, who was a Gothic author of…” She trailed on, and I opened my backpack, taking out my dark green binder, which was covered with band names, and drawings in black sharpie, and opened it. Picking up a pen, I began writing lyrics to a song that I had been thinking up, to play on my guitar.

After several minutes, I felt a soft tap on my arm. Looking over, I saw Jack-In-The-Box-Girl (I still refuse to call her by name) handing me a note. I looked up and, seeing that Mrs. Petrin was still involved in her lecture of Edgar Allen Poe’s The Raven, reached out and took the piece of folded up paper. Unfolding it slowly, so that it wouldn’t make noise, I read the words:

Hi, I’m Rebecca. Welcome to Memphis High!

Sorry about the bus thing, I can be quite a chatterbox.

I hope there’s no hard feeling about those questions.

I was just curious to know who you are…

So, you like music? What type? Oh, well,

I guess that you like heavy metal (because of your shirt!)

What other bands do you like? You play guitar?

You should show me sometime!

I live right next to you, in the yellow and

white house to the left of yours.

Please reply.

Rebecca

Rolling my eyes, I wrote below it:

Nice handwriting.

I don’t really want to talk to you,

so please don’t write back.

Allan

Folding it up in a different way, just to spite her, I tossed it back at her. After a moment, I heard her scoff, so I looked over. As soon as I moved my head, she whipped her own head around and stared straight ahead. Grinning to myself, I went back to my lyrics. After another moment or two, I felt another tap on my arm, but much less gentle than the last time. Locking my jaw, I looked over to see her handing me the note back. When I took it, she gave me one last scathing glance and turned to look back at the teacher. Sighing, I unfolded it.

Well, if you didn’t want to talk to me,

you didn’t have to be so rude about it.

And I don’t appreciate your slander about my handwriting!

I like my handwriting very much, so

I would like it if you wouldn’t make fun of it.

I will no longer speak to you!

Rebecca

Leaning over, I hugged her and whispered, “Thank you!” in a voice that sounded close to sobbing. She stared at me, looking scandalized.

“Please refrain from touching your girlfriend in class, Mr. Hartie.” I looked up, to see Mrs. Petrin looking in our direction with that irritated sort of glance that only an interrupted teacher can give you.

Pushing me away, Jack-In-The-Box-Girl stated loudly, “He is not my boyfriend, Mrs. Petrin! I detest him strongly.” I heard more giggles, and Mrs. Petrin gave an exasperated sigh.

“Well, please behave like high school students, will you?” With that, she went back to her lecture. Staring heatedly at me, Jack-In-The-Box-Girl mouthed: Never touch me again!

After another forty-five minutes, the bell rang, and we all filed out of the classroom. Going to Economics room, I was disappointed to see that Jack-In-The-Box-Girl was in this class, as well. Luckily, though, I sat across the room from her. This class passed somewhat uneventfully, though I was called on to answer one question, (What is the meaning of a command system) which I answered correctly, somewhat to my surprise. I wasn’t some ultra smart geek, but neither was I the guy who just sits there, doing nothing, so I got Cs and Bs in my last school, mostly.

In my next two classes, (Math and Spanish) to my great relief, Jack-In-The-Box-Girl wasn’t there, although White-Black-Guy was. At lunch, I saw her briefly before she caught glimpse of me, and stormed off. Grabbing my tray, I got a piece of pizza, chocolate milk, and a burger (which I stole). I ate quietly and slowly, not looking at anyone, until someone sat down opposite me. Looking up, I was surprised to see Jack-In-The-Box-Girl sitting there, glaring at me.

“There’s nowhere else to sit, so I’m sitting here.” Looking down at her own food, she spoke nothing else to me. After staring bemusedly at her a moment, I returned to my own lunch.

When I ate the last bit of my stolen burger, and quaffed down the rest of my chocolate milk, I stood up, picked up my bag and began walking away. “I’m not gonna drink this, if you want it.” I turned around and she tossed me her milk.

Looking at her, I opened the milk and took a swallow. “Thanks.” I turned around and walked out of the cafeteria.

In Science, Jack-In-The-Box-Girl was back, in the seat right behind mine. We did a worksheet and I actually got assigned homework in this class (read pages 98-107 and answer questions 3-12 on page 108). Everything went smoothly with Jack-In-The-Bow-Girl in Science, and through PE, since we just had a free-hour. Until we got to Home Economics, that is.

“You got here on the perfect day, Mt. Hartie. We are having a contest on cookie baking, today. Let’s see, we’ll partner you with someone who knows what they’re doing. Hmm, let’s see… Oh, I know! Ms. Haster! You can show Mr. Hartie how things are done here.”

The window is open, I told myself. Jump. That’s all you have to do. Then everything’ll be all better. Do it. Do it! Do it! Heading in the direction of the window, I instead turned to follow Jack-In-The-Bow-Girl to her station. “You know how everything works, right? If you don’t, I guess I could show you, but that bugs me, having to show people simple stuff. Doesn’t it bug you? No? Well, anyway, the spatulas are all here, the pans here. Except the cookie sheets, of course; those go here. Here are the measuring cups and bowls. The towels go in that drawer, there, and you wash everything when you’re done. Mrs. Relly’ll give you all the food materials you need, or she’ll tell you to get them out of the food cupboard, like she tells me. Oh, and by the way, all the cooking oils are in that cupboard above your head. Got that? Good. ‘Cause if you didn’t, and I had to explain it all to you again, I‘d just get so mad! Y’know-“

“Yeah,” I interrupted tiredly. “I got it. Just go get the stuff, please.” She scoffed at me, before walking over to Mrs. Relly.

“Well,” she began, setting the materials on the counter, “just sit there, and I’ll make the cookies. I know how much guys hate cooking. Hell, I’m used to it, anyway. Y’know, almost all the guy partners I’ve had, didn’t do a single thin-“

“Fuck you. I’ll do my share, too. I’m gonna do my part, and you ain’t gonna stop me! Now, get outta my way!” Taken aback, she stepped back and watched me begin filling the measuring cups with the ingredients, without looking, even once, at the recipe. “What type do ya wanna make?”

After a minute, she came over to me, and handed me the chocolate chips. “Here. I like chocolate chip.”

“Peanut butter?” She nodded. “Good. Gimme a spoon.”

“No. I’m gonna do my part, just like you! Move outta my way.” Glaring at her, I stepped back, and got the mixing bowl out for her. I noticed that she had light gray eyes, which shined with determination when she set her mind to something. “Where’d that recipe go? I need to-“

“It says one cup of brown sugar, and a half cup of white, but if you substitute a half cup of creamer for a half cup of the milk, you can use only half a cup of brown sugar, and a quarter cup of white. That way, it still tastes just as good, while it’s better for you.”

“But, if the recipe says, then we-“

“Fuck the recipe. Since this is a contest, shouldn’t we do things our own way?” When she opened her mouth to argue further, I cut across her. “Yes, we should! And if you even think about saying that we might lose, I’ll take over, and do it all! My cooking skills will not be slandered,” I told her, using her own word against her.

“Fine,” she responded coldly. “If that’s the way you wanna do it, then don’t make fun of my handwriting. And if we lose, you’ve gotta play your guitar for me.”

Scowling, I nodded. “Fine. But if we do win, then you don’t talk to me, unless I talk to you, first. Deal?”

“Fine,” she said again. After forty-five minutes, when all the cookies were out, and had cooled, with all the dishes washed, Mrs. Relly came around to taste all the cookies. She came to our table last.

“Now,” she began, “Since you’re new here, don’t feel bad if you aren’t quite as experienced as the rest of the students. Let’s see what you’ve made…”

“They’re peanut butter-chocolate chip cookies,” Jack-In-The-Box-Girl began, “with just a touch of vanilla and cinnamon. We also put in chunks of walnut.”

Mrs. Relly took a bite, and exclaimed in a loud voice, “My, gosh! These are delicious! I’m sorry, Mr. Hartie, I didn’t know you were a cook.”

“It wasn’t just me,” I protested. “Ja-, I mean, Rebecca, did just as much as I did. It was a team effort.” I said this last with a smirk at the person in question.

“Well, now, there can be no question about it. Allan and Rebecca are the winners!” A couple girls looked shocked and indignant. One, who was wearing a low-cut half shirt and short shorts, looked absolutely pissed! “Here, everyone, have a cookie.”

I snatched four cookies, and then quickly stepped away from the counter. Walking over to my backpack, I put three of the cookies into a small tin box with a picture of Snoopy on the front. Then, shouldering my bag, I began walking back over to Ja- Rebecca. I handed her the fourth cookie. “Here, I noticed that you didn’t get one.”

“Thank you,” she replied, looking surprised.

“Whatever.” I walked over to the door, and out of the classroom. Walking down the stairs, I thought about how nice it was going to be, not having to listen the Rebecca’s mouth every class she had with me.

As I walked out the front doors, the bell rang. Walking left, I went to the second building, into my Advisory period. I was relieved that Rebecca wasn’t in that class.

...Actually, I intended never to come to my Advisory period, again. I was gonna switch; I didn’t care if I went to the same class as Rebecca; I just could not take anymore of Mr. Barker! He always spoke in a monotone, he had no personality, he didn’t even attempt to be funny, and he also smelled somewhat like cabbage.

As the final bell rang, I stepped out into the sun, and just stood there for a minute, feeling the warmth on my face. While I was standing there, basking in the sun, I heard Rebecca’s distinct chattery voice. Only she could ruin this moment, I thought darkly. Looking around for her, I saw that White-Black-Guy, and what looked like a few of his friends had surrounded her, and that she looked a bit paler than she had earlier, too. Also, he had grabbed her wrist, rather roughly. Sighing, I walked over to see what was going on.

“…You fuckin’ bitch! I’m gonna tear yer fuckin’ head offa yer shoulders, if ya talk like that ta me again!”

Seeing Rebecca open her mouth, I thought it best to intervene at this point. “Hey, Rebecca. What’s goin’ on?”

“Well, Ray here,” she began, gesturing at White-Black-Guy, “Was just tellin’ me that if I was ever in his seat again, that he’d… How did it go? Oh yeah. He’d ‘fuck me ‘till my eyeballs fell out!’ I believe were his exact words. He also said I talk so much that he’d like to ‘rip my tongue out and lick my cunt raw with it’. So I said…”

“I think I understand,” I said quickly, cutting her off. “Dude, Ray, don’t be such a fuckin’ punk. Have a little respect for my friend, here, please. Thank you. Let’s go, Rebecca.” Without giving anyone time to digest what I’d just said, I grabbed Rebecca’s arm, and ran her over to the bus. Or what Rebecca thought was the bus. In actuality, I ran, still clutching her arm, right past the busses and into the road.

“Um,” She began, “The bus is the other way, y’know. So shouldn’t we go back…?”

“No,” I said as patiently as possible for me. “I just insulted the biggest black guy in the world for your sake, so I think that we should avoid him for a while. Meaning, of course, that we should avoid the bus, where this shit started in the first place. Don’cha think?”

“Oh,” She gasped out. “Well, when you put it that way, it makes perfect sen-“

“I’m aware that it makes more sense, now that I just explained it to you. Y’know, it’d really help if you actually listened to people for once, instead of just babbling at the all the Goddam time! Try it. It works.” By this time, we were several blocks away from the school. Going on memory, I took a left for a block. Then, just for good measure, I went right for a block, and then left again. By this point, I was gasping for breath myself, so I allowed Rebecca to slow down. Letting go of her, I leaned on my knees, trying to regain my breath. When I glanced over, I saw her leaning against a fence with one hand, while clutching a stitch in her side with the other.

After several more moments, I began walking again. “Hey, where are you going?” When I didn’t answer, she ran up beside me, and asked me again.

“Home,” I replied. When she looked like she was about to say something, I told her, “Look, I don’t really care if you walk with me, or not. Just don’t talk to me.”

“You don’t like me very much, do you?” she asked me quietly, after a long, uncomfortable silence. When I didn’t immediately respond, she continued on interrogating me. “Why don’t you like me? What did I do to make you not like me? Was it—“

“Look,” I yelled at her, stopping and turning to face her. “I said that I didn’t want to talk to you, didn’t I? And what about our deal? Have you forgotten about that?” I saw tears well up in her eyes. Letting out an angry noise, I turned from her and began walking again. Inexplicably, she kept following me, though without talking. She didn’t look like she was crying when I glanced over, although I thought that I heard her softly sniff once.

As we stepped onto the main street, I felt my stomach rumbling. Thinking about stopping at AM/PM, I remembered the cookies in my backpack. I had intended on giving one each to my family but, oh well. Shit happens.

Swinging my backpack to the front so that I could dig through it, Rebecca looked questioningly at me. Finally, fishing out my snoopy box, I took out two of the cookies, and stuck it back in my backpack. Taking a bite of one of the cookies, I handed the other to Rebecca. “Thank you,” she said softly. Grunting in reply, I continued walking and eating my cookie.

As we neared our street, the bus finally passed us. Ray, if I remembered correctly, was let off a couple streets back. My sister leaned out the window and yelled, “Who’s your girlfriend?” to me. I responded in kind, with a shouted curse and my middle finger.

“Who was that?” Rebecca asked hesitantly.

Glancing irritatedly at her, I said, “Penny.”

“Penny who?”

“My sister,” I replied shortly. Taking the hint, she didn’t ask me anything else. Glancing at her to see if she was crying again, I noticed her holding her arm somewhat away from her body. Then I realized: I had gripped her arm too hard, so it’d bruised.

We had finally reached our street. As we got to the front of my house, I grabbed her elbow and steered her to my front door.

“What are you doing?” She sounded somewhat indignant and scared. Well, no kidding, I thought to myself. Memories of Ray threatening her were still fresh in her mind.

“Well, I was gonna take a look at your arm, to see if I could help it. But if you don’t want me to…” Frowning slightly, she nodded her head. Opening the front door, I lead her into the kitchen, dropping my backpack off by the counter. “Gimme your arm.” As I examined it, she leaned her back against the counter, peering around the kitchen. It was mostly clean, with everything in its proper place, except for a bowl and spoon left on the counter.

Opening a couple of drawers, I got out a plastic baggy. After that, I walked over to the fridge and pushed the ice dispenser. The ice dropped into the little baggy I held underneath it. After zipping it closed, I tossed it to her, saying, “Keep that on your arm for a couple of hours. After that, the bruise should fade easily enough.” After waiting for her to nod, I asked, “Want a turkey sandwich?”

She nodded again. “Thank you. That would be nice.” I got out the mayonnaise, cheese, turkey, lettuce, tomatoes, and mustard.

When I took out the bread and knife, I told her, “Just tell me what you want on it.” With that, I quickly cut several slices of cheese, sliced up the tomatoes and tore off a couple pieces of lettuce. When I put the mayonnaise, and cheese on it, I cooked the bread in the skillet for before adding the lettuce, tomatoes, turkey, and mustard (only for me) on. As I handed it to her, I checked her arm again. Then, hiking myself up onto the counter, I began eating my sandwich.

“Y’know,” I began, and Rebecca turned to me, chewing slowly. “I didn’t mean to— Y’know, um, what I’m tryin’ to, um…” I sighed at the grin she tried to hide. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

“That’s okay. You saved me from getting raped. It doesn’t hurt that much, anyway…”

“I didn’t save you from gettin’ raped.” Cocking my head at her, I said, “Y’know… When you aren’t talking at a mile an minute, you’re pretty cool.” Seeing her flush angrily, I added, “No, really. You’re pretty cool. And try listening, like I said. Sometimes you can learn things about people…” We finished eating in silence.

“Well, I’d better get going. Thanks for the sandwich. And for the ice.”

“Alright, bye then.” I walked her to the door. She seemed to hesitate for an instant, before finally leaving, shutting the door behind her. Turning away, I walked back to the kitchen. Suddenly, I was struck by a thought. After only a moment’s hesitation, I opened the door, to find her just at the end of the sidewalk. “Hey, Rebecca! Wait a second.” She spun around, grinning slightly. Jogging over to her, I told her, “I’m gonna ride my bike to school in the morning. I thought it best not to ride the bus for a while… You gonna ride with me?”

When she didn’t answer at once, I thought that she was going to say no. Then, with a wide smile, she exclaimed, “Yes! I’ll ride with you!"

“Cool. I’ll come by around about six-fifteen, then.”

“Yeah. That’ll be alright, although my parents might be a little freaked that some guy that they haven’t met is coming to pick me up at six o’clock, but, oh well. I might be able to…” I turned around and went into the house.

Turning on Saliva’s album Survival Of The Sickest, I went to work making dinner. I sung along with Rock N’ Roll Revolution, as it was playing. Then my mouth twitched, and something happened that hadn’t for a long time.

For no reason, I was smiling.

*****

…Your tears don’t fall they crash around me! Her conscious calls

the guilty to go home!

“Huh? What the hell?” Reaching to the stand by my bed, I fumbled around for my cell phone. Upon finding it, I flipped it open and put it to my ear. “What! Who the fuck is calling me at…” I glanced at my alarm clock. “At two-thirty in the morning! Who? I swear to God, Benny! If this is you, then I’m gonna end up goin’ to jail tonight!”

After a moment, “Allan? Allan is that you?”

“Huh? Dennise?”

“Yes,” She breathed. “Yes, it’s me.”

My voice softened. “Why the hell are you calling at such a God-awful time?”

“Oh, Allan. I just wanted to talk to you. Why didn’t you call me earlier?”

“Because I called you yesterday. Do I have to call you everyday?”

“I was just worried,” she sniffed. “I thought that you’d forgotten about me. You didn’t, did you?”

I sighed. “Of course not, Denny. I could never forget you.” There’s no way, I added silently. Not after what I did to you…

“Okay. I just wanted to hear you say it. I’ll let you get back to sleep, now.”

“Awright, Babe. Thank you. I love you. So much.”

“I love you too, Al. G’night, Sweetie!”

“Bye, Babe.” I snapped the cell phone shut. Setting it back down on the stand, I got out of bed, and walked to the door. After going to the bathroom, I walked back to my room, and was about to climb into bed, when I saw a light out of the corner of my eye. Walking to my window, I saw across the street, into somebody’s window. I saw them walk to his or her closet. When they turned back, I saw that it was a woman. Not just a woman, but also a woman in only a bra and panties. Not only a woman in bra and panties, but— and I did a double take— Rebecca in bra and panties!

I quickly ducked down, but kept watching. I saw her turn away from me, unhook her bra, and take it off. After flinging it to the floor, she turned her light off and climbed into bed. After waiting for a minute, I climbed into bed, myself. With all that going through my mind, I didn’t get back to sleep for over an hour.