H A U N T E D

n i n e t e e n

n i n e t e e n

The Sunday morning was spent cleaning up the Kim residence, and Eben unclogged a bathtub filled with puke. Nicole didn't leave her room, but Nicky made the excuse of saying it's for best, as she gets pretty gnarly when hungover. After the small bonfire event, Jack excused himself and rushed home, stating that his brother would be getting worried. I didn't see any of the Cullens again, so I guess he was talking the truth. Flynn picked me up t around 2 a.m., but I arrived at around 7  again to help with the cleaning. It was a quiet day, filled with recovery and regrets. So when Monday morning comes around, I'm more excited and animated to discuss the weekend's events with my friends. Kofi doesn't wait for me as he usually does, and I won't admit that I'm not bothered by this sight once I exit Flynn's truck.

I slowly make my way towards my classroom, looking around for my friends, but not seeing them anywhere. I enter my English Lit class and place my folder with the essay Mrs Cullen wanted me to write, on her desk. I am early, so I take out one of my research books and slowly page through it, highlighting some parts and making notes along the index. It is always fascinating for me to see how two books can be parallel to one another, yet add to what the other is missing.

"Hey, Ophelia?"

I look up from my book and see Kofi standing in front of me, picking at his fingers as he nervously eyes my face, as if analysing my expression. He seems to be waiting for something, an expectation that needs to be filled. 

"Hey Kofi!", I greet and close the book, making sure to dog-ear the page I'm on. Kofi's hair is tied into a low-hanging ponytail, and it looks pretty good. He looks relaxed and contemptuous, but the way he fidgets around makes me anxious.

"Can we talk during lunch? I just...yeah, we need to talk."

I wordlessly nod, and he echoes my gesture, before excusing himself to go sit at his desk. I wanted to ask him why he wasn't waiting for me this morning but now doesn't seem like the right time. I wonder if it could be because of his confrontation with Jack and me on Saturday — will he be apologizing? I am not mad at him for grabbing me the way he did, chalking it up to the alcohol, but it's difficult to remind myself that it still doesn't excuse his actions.

I enjoyed Saturday, especially when Jack and I talked on the balcony and when he told us the legend of a missing ancestor. I was left smiling like a schoolgirl yesterday when Nicky complained about mud tracks on his parents' balcony, thinking back to how easy it is to converse with Jack. He is friendly and kind, and he has this...aura around him that makes you feel all giddy on the inside. Maybe I seemed over-eager at the party, not giving him enough space to socialize with others. I mean, he would've excused himself if he wanted to go talk to others, but he asked me to dance with him, talked with me — stop it, I scold myself. He's acting like how one would expect a good friend to act, and I shouldn't mistake his friendship for anything more.

Gradually, I feel myself starting to overthink my every move from Saturday, and what impression it could've left on Jack. I cringe at some parts of the night — especially the parts I can hardly remember. One specific part stands out, but I don't know if I can link it with Jack. Sure, he was there when I saw the spirit glaring at Rosalie, but he isn't involved in it. He thought it was a panic attack, not the witch girl seeing dead people.

"Hey!", the girl who brought a Polaroid camera along, springs in front of my desk. I jump in my seat but return her wide smile. She shows me some Polaroids taken of the night and offers to sell them to me for $2-dollars a photo. I accept the offer and pick out about nine photos I really like, and hand her the money from my purse.

I'm very lucky that Flynn is very gracious with his money, but I feel like a sponger. I'll definitely need to start looking for a part-time job around town.