enigma.
I hate enigmas.
My ears are hearing Kid Rock chant “Bawitdaba,” but my brain is listening to Johnny Rzeznik singing about being a question to the world. Sorry. It’s how the song “I’m Still Here” starts. I’ve been hearing it almost daily since I met him.
Okay , Jillian, get it together. I know you really want to know what that whole thing last night was about , but if you just put it out of your mind, the information will come to you just like it always does.
A distraction…that’s what I need.
Perfect, here comes one right now. He’s not my first choice, but I’ll take a distraction in the form of my cousin Dylan—Derek’s freshman little brother—over the idiots Julia and Company any day. The two of them get on my nerves. I still can’t believe the stuff they’re saying about Tristan behind Camie’s back. I’m honestly considering letting Camie hear some of what I recorded the other night. Shoot. If I do that then there’ll probably be blood shed within the family. If not that, then there will at least be distrust and dissent and well…that would be uncomfortable on Christmas Eve. Whatever…I’ll think of something , I’m sure.
“Hey Jill, I know something you don’t know.”
See? Dylan’s already piqued my interest and I’m on my way to being thoroughly distracted.
“No, you don’t.” I’m sure he knows many things I don’t , but the trick is to appear omnipotent.
“Damn it! We thought we made sure no one heard us.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. You know how little ears hear everything you don’t want them to hear and nothing you do.” I love the little kids…they’re my minions.
“So would you go out with him if he asked?”
I followed his eyes without moving my head. So that’s it. His friend , Jeremy , likes me. I told you...omnipotence works every time.
“Probably not.”
“Why not? He’s a really nice guy and he thinks you’re pretty.”
“I am pretty, but, I’m also twelve.” Call me conceited if you want , but I don’t think it’s a crime to acknowledge one’s own strengths. Also, I’m stalling for a minute while I consider whether I would actually go out with him.
“So? He knows you’re a couple years younger than him and he still thinks you’re pretty.”
Follow my thought process here and I’ll show you how I come to a decision: Jeremy’s kind of cute in an awkward , pubescent sort of way and I will admit after having found boys to be stupid and a waste of time for the last twelve-ish years, that lately I’m discovering I find some boys attractive and interesting. However , any boy, regardless of his age, who thinks a good way to get my attention is by having my cousin tell me he thinks I’m pretty, is one French fry short of a Happy Meal.
Nope, not interested. Simple as that.
“I’m flattered (Lie.), but no. I don’t wanna add to my dad’s boy-stress level (Lie.), he’s already got enough on his plate with Camie’s personal jungle gym (Lie.).” I pointed over to where Camie is currently trying to climb up Tristan’s body like he’s a tree to get a hold of something that looks like his phone, which he’s holding out of her reach above her head.
And so I lied about being flattered and not wanting to add to my dad’s non-existent boy-stress level. So what? At least I was polite. I could’ve easily crushed poor fry-less Jeremy’s feelings and self-esteem, but I didn’t. I took the high road, the road less traveled… Dang, I’m pretty and I’m a saint!
“Oh, yeah. I guess that would be sorta like puttin’ him through the wringer. Jeremy’s gonna be bummed , though. Can I at least give him your cell number and give you his?”
What do I look like? A blonde rolodex for boys who’ve lost an archery match with cupid? First Tristan and now Jeremy… I’m already regretting not chewing up the Fry-Guy and spitting him out in the dirt.
“Whatever, but remember I don’t text so if I get one
I hate enigmas.
My ears are hearing Kid Rock chant “Bawitdaba,” but my brain is listening to Johnny Rzeznik singing about being a question to the world. Sorry. It’s how the song “I’m Still Here” starts. I’ve been hearing it almost daily since I met him.
Okay , Jillian, get it together. I know you really want to know what that whole thing last night was about , but if you just put it out of your mind, the information will come to you just like it always does.
A distraction…that’s what I need.
Perfect, here comes one right now. He’s not my first choice, but I’ll take a distraction in the form of my cousin Dylan—Derek’s freshman little brother—over the idiots Julia and Company any day. The two of them get on my nerves. I still can’t believe the stuff they’re saying about Tristan behind Camie’s back. I’m honestly considering letting Camie hear some of what I recorded the other night. Shoot. If I do that then there’ll probably be blood shed within the family. If not that, then there will at least be distrust and dissent and well…that would be uncomfortable on Christmas Eve. Whatever…I’ll think of something , I’m sure.
“Hey Jill, I know something you don’t know.”
See? Dylan’s already piqued my interest and I’m on my way to being thoroughly distracted.
“No, you don’t.” I’m sure he knows many things I don’t , but the trick is to appear omnipotent.
“Damn it! We thought we made sure no one heard us.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. You know how little ears hear everything you don’t want them to hear and nothing you do.” I love the little kids…they’re my minions.
“So would you go out with him if he asked?”
I followed his eyes without moving my head. So that’s it. His friend , Jeremy , likes me. I told you...omnipotence works every time.
“Probably not.”
“Why not? He’s a really nice guy and he thinks you’re pretty.”
“I am pretty, but, I’m also twelve.” Call me conceited if you want , but I don’t think it’s a crime to acknowledge one’s own strengths. Also, I’m stalling for a minute while I consider whether I would actually go out with him.
“So? He knows you’re a couple years younger than him and he still thinks you’re pretty.”
Follow my thought process here and I’ll show you how I come to a decision: Jeremy’s kind of cute in an awkward , pubescent sort of way and I will admit after having found boys to be stupid and a waste of time for the last twelve-ish years, that lately I’m discovering I find some boys attractive and interesting. However , any boy, regardless of his age, who thinks a good way to get my attention is by having my cousin tell me he thinks I’m pretty, is one French fry short of a Happy Meal.
Nope, not interested. Simple as that.
“I’m flattered (Lie.), but no. I don’t wanna add to my dad’s boy-stress level (Lie.), he’s already got enough on his plate with Camie’s personal jungle gym (Lie.).” I pointed over to where Camie is currently trying to climb up Tristan’s body like he’s a tree to get a hold of something that looks like his phone, which he’s holding out of her reach above her head.
And so I lied about being flattered and not wanting to add to my dad’s non-existent boy-stress level. So what? At least I was polite. I could’ve easily crushed poor fry-less Jeremy’s feelings and self-esteem, but I didn’t. I took the high road, the road less traveled… Dang, I’m pretty and I’m a saint!
“Oh, yeah. I guess that would be sorta like puttin’ him through the wringer. Jeremy’s gonna be bummed , though. Can I at least give him your cell number and give you his?”
What do I look like? A blonde rolodex for boys who’ve lost an archery match with cupid? First Tristan and now Jeremy… I’m already regretting not chewing up the Fry-Guy and spitting him out in the dirt.
“Whatever, but remember I don’t text so if I get one
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