The Understorey, Book One of The Leaving Series Read Free

chickened out. No sense in getting detention
unless Jules was going to be there right? I compromised with reason
and decided that right after lunch I would convince Millie in the
office to let me look at Jules’ schedule, bribe her if I had
to.
    I walked into the cafeteria resigned to my
plan but those plans promptly fizzled once I saw Jules sitting at
her table all by herself again. She had a sack of carrots on her
lap and her feet, once again, rested on the chair beside her. I got
a small kick out of the fact that it was how she liked to sit, sort
of unashamed. That’s what it was. She was brazen. She had her nose
buried in yet another book. When I got closer I noticed it was
George Orwell’s ‘Nineteen Eighty-Four’. I loved that book. Boy, was
she exasperating to me. That’s it. No more, I thought. I
walked to her table and sat in the chair across from her.
    “I love that book,” I said.
    Look at me, I wordlessly demanded,
swallowing hard. I’m sweating. Oh no. I’m nervous. Very, very
nervous. I wiped sweat from my forehead and felt my longish
hair stick to it. She didn’t even look at me, let alone respond.
So, it was going to be like that.
    “Carrots, huh?” I asked, obviously
reaching.
She rolled her eyes.
    “Those are good for the eyes, I’ve heard. I see
they’ve done wonders for your teeth too. Texas A&M did that
study a few years ago. Did you hear about it?”
    She didn’t respond.
    “No? Well a few years ago they developed a
carrot that helps people absorb forty one percent more calcium than
when they consume a regular carrot. Interesting right? Genetically
altered vegetables?”
No reply.
“I certainly found that interesting,” I said, laughing nervously.
“You may not, or maybe you did, I’m not sure. It’s certainly
something a braniac should find interesting. You’re a braniac,
right? I mean, you’re always reading, so I assume. Not that I claim
to be a braniac or anything. I’m of pretty average intelligence, I
think.”
I was drowning.
    “Yeah, so,” I continued, digging my
embarrassment hole deeper. Hell, it was so deep I could bury myself
in it. Good thing, too. I wanted to be buried. “I heard they
collaborated with Baylor’s College of Medicine in Houston.”
Nothing. I was beginning to think the book was attached to her
nose. “Houston’s a pretty crazy town or so I’ve heard. Supposedly
the humidity is heck on girls’ hair. Your hair doesn’t seem to take
on that much humidity. I’ve never seen it frizz anyway.”
    I drummed my fingertips on the table.
    “As I was saying,” I said digging my grave
further than needed, might as well go for gold here, “it’s
obviously done wonders for your teeth.”
She stopped her reading and scanned my eyes. Stop talking! I
commanded myself.
    “Yeah, your teeth are big and a pretty white.” See, that wasn’t so bad. “You could mistake them for a
horse’s.” Nice, very nice.
I nervously laughed. She didn’t. When I was nervous, I resorted to
inadvertent insults.
    She looked at me but turned her focus back on
her book. Sweat was dripping down my neck. I carried my fingers
through my hair and down the nape to remove any evidence of my
impending social death. No sense in letting her see the physical
evidence as well as the emotional proof that I was drowning.
    “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to compare your
teeth to a horse’s. I was only trying to point out how large they
were. That is, I mean to say, that they are larger than most
people’s. But! Perfectly proportionate to your face. Your face
isn’t huge or anything! Your face seems pretty average in its
proportions. Yes, very well proportioned.” I sighed deeply. “What I
meant to say is that you have very beautiful teeth.”
    And, scene. Very good job Mr. Gray. Your
audience has accepted you for the idiot that you are. Look forward
to being typecast as the bumbling fool from this point on.
    My throat was dryer than a bone. I yanked