How Not to Fall In Love

Chapter 5

Julia was waiting for me by the car when I walked out of the school. I could see her across the parking lot, talking to some guy. She's already got guys wanting to ask her out just a couple of weeks after school started, while I get called Duckface by my middle school crush, who mocked me incessantly. 

"Come on, Rylee." Sophie nudged me as she passed by me out the door.

"I don't get it. Why is it so easy for Jules?" I motioned my hand in the direction of my car. 

"I don't know. I'm sorry Austin did that to you today in the cafeteria." 

"Of all people to remember me." I sighed. "I must have been adopted," I said, watching Jules talk to the guy. 

Sophie laughed. "You weren't adopted, goober." 

"I had to have been; there's no other explanation. She's gorgeous, not awkward in any way like me. That's the only logical explanation." 

We kept walking to our cars, and Sophie quickly changed the subject to getting coffee tomorrow after school. I told her I'd have to check and see what I was doing and that I'd probably have to run Jules home first. She told me they'd wait for me if I had to run her home first. Sophie told me she'd text me later and headed off toward her car while I walked over to mine, where Jules was still talking to some guy. 

"Jules, you ready?" I unlocked the car and tossed my book bag in the backseat. 

"Yeah." She said, then turned to the guy with dark blonde hair and told him that she'd talk to him later. 

"How do you do that?" I asked as she got in the passenger seat. 

"Do what?" She asked, completely oblivious.

"You really don't know, do you?" I furrowed my eyebrows. 

"What in the hell are you talking about, Rylee?" She wrinkled up her nose. 

I backed out and followed the other cars to get out of the parking lot so that we could head home. I'd had enough of school for the day. But I still couldn't believe Jules was clueless as to what I was talking about earlier. Surely, she had to know what I meant. 

"How was your day?" Jules asked, looking down at her phone. 

I sighed, not taking my eyes off the road. " Austin Hayes called me Duckface again." 

"Really? I'm sorry, Rylee. What an asshat." She huffed, looking down at her phone. "You aren't that girl anymore; people need to stop insinuating you are." 

"Thanks, Jules," I said, pulling into our driveway. "Do you care if I drop you off at home tomorrow, then go out for coffee with Sophie and Cole?" 

"No, that's fine." She got out of the car. 

I turned around, grabbed my bookbag, and got out of the car. Dad wasn't home yet from work, so I had enough time to get some homework done before I needed to start on dinner. Jules was in the kitchen getting a drink when I walked in to get a drink myself. She asked me when Dad was supposed to be home, and I told her between five and six. Then, she asked me what was for dinner. I told her something easy like spaghetti and meatballs. At times like this, I missed having our mom around the house. It's been almost four years since she's been gone; we moved away a couple of months after her funeral. The name-calling had stopped around the time of our mom's death. I guess kids figured it was too cruel to mock me while I grieved over my mom. What they didn't realize was the damage had already been done. 

Jules grabbed her drink and went to her bedroom. I poured myself a glass of sweet tea and went up to my room since there was no homework. I changed into a pair of black leggings and an oversized pink t-shirt because I wasn't planning on going anywhere the rest of the day. I propped my pillows against my white headboard, then crawled up on my bed. I sent Sophie a text letting her know that I was free to go to coffee tomorrow after I dropped Jules off at home. Sophie and I texted back and forth for about forty-five minutes; then, I decided I better go downstairs and start dinner. Mom always had dinner done or close to it when Dad got off work before she got sick. I still tried to have it done before he got home so I wouldn't have to listen to how Mom always had dinner on the table. It was one less thing that I had to worry about him getting mad at me over. 

"Do you need help with dinner?" Jules asked, walking into the kitchen. 

"Sure." I smiled, grabbing pans from underneath the island. Then, I walked over to the refrigerator and got the hamburger out for the meatballs. I used to love helping Mom make homemade meatballs for spaghetti and meatballs. It was something that she and I did together, just the two of us. Jules and Mom would make fudge together in the kitchen. And all three of us would bake cookies. We each had our alone time with Mom; then, we would do something together with her. 

I mixed the ingredients in the bowl, then grabbed a small amount of meat mixture and rolled it into a tiny ball. Jules jumped right in and started rolling the meat into tiny little meatballs. Next, we filled up two small cookie sheets; then, I placed them in the oven to bake. She opened the sauce and poured it into a deep pan so we could add the meatballs later. She opened the cabinet next to the stove and started shuffling spices around as she placed several jars on the counter. I stood there and watched her for a few minutes as she opened the spice, smelled it, and then added it to the sauce. I could feel the corners of my mouth curling up in a slight smile as I continued to watch her. I must have made a noise with my foot or something when I shifted my weight from one foot to the other because she looked over at me. 

"What?" She asked, tasting the sauce she had just added numerous spices to. 

I shook my head. "Nothing." 

"Are you laughing at me?" She asked again, putting the spoon down. 

"Never." I smiled a little bigger, filling the pot with water for the spaghetti. I would never laugh at Jules. Watching her add the spices to the sauce took me back to five years when Mom was healthy and still able to cook dinner. She used to do the same thing with the spices before adding them to anything she cooked. God, I missed her so much. 

I looked at the time and saw that it was almost six, and Dad would be pulling into the driveway within ten minutes. Jules rushed around the kitchen, setting the table while I finished draining the pasta and getting the meatballs out of the oven. I hurried and stuck the garlic bread in the oven, praying it would be done before he walked into the house. I stepped back and assessed the kitchen and table, making sure everything was in place the way Dad liked it. 

"Jules, how does everything look?" I asked, pouring the pasta into the bowl and glancing at the clock. 

"It looks perfect. Oh, it smells so good. I can't wait to eat." She pulled the garlic bread out of the oven, placing it on the breadboard.

"What in the hell is that smell?" Dad bellowed, walking down the hall. 

My eyes flashed over to Jules, who stared back at me in confusion about what we could've done wrong. "Why is he mad?" I mouthed. 

She shrugged her shoulders, moving closer to me. 

Dad stepped into the kitchen, his hazel eyes filled with rage the second he saw the meatballs sitting on the counter by the bowl of spaghetti sauce. "Who said you could cook that?" He ran a hand over the top of his dark brown hair. 

"Dad, it wasn't Rylee's fault." Jules grabbed my arm, staying close to me. 

"Did I ask for your opinion? NO! I didn't!" He walked over, opened the back door, grabbed the pan of meatballs, and threw them out the back door. "How dare you try and cook your mother's recipes!" He stepped toward me. I turned to run out of the kitchen to get away when my body stumbled a couple of steps forward. I straightened myself up, and he pushed me again. "Get your ass out of this kitchen! Now!" 

Author's Notes:

Wow...

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