The Strong Will Survive

Chapter Eight - KC

Lilith was on a walk, so it was just me and Jared. He sat on the couch next to me, watching me make an arrow from a novelty bow-and-arrow set and a paring knife. I quickly turned towards him, jerking the knife across the arrow.

"Why are you looking at me like that? It's kind of scaring me," I said. Jared took my pale hand in his dark ones, squeezing my wrist to try to staunch the bleeding. Apparently, I had cut myself on my hand while I turned to him. I didn't feel it, though. I was more focused on that weird, fluttery feeling in my chest.

"I, uh, what? I'm not looking at you. Have you noticed that you're bleeding?"

"No, the red stuff pooling in the palm of my hand is obviously hot sauce. Of course, I've noticed that I'm bleeding!"

"I kind of set myself up for that one, huh?" Jared stared at me with those deep brown eyes. I locked his gaze with my gray ones.

"Staring contest. Ready... Go!" I caught him by surprise. Guess he thought that we were gonna kiss, or something. Nuh-uh. Not on my watch.

Jared won the staring contest. He cheated, though. I don't think that throwing a fake punch so I'd flinch was in the rules. Really, though. Is it? He bandaged my cut, being the best at first aid. "Thanks, man. You're the bomb."

He was doing that staring thing again. What was happening to him, and to me? I felt that weird feeling in my chest again, like I was gonna hurl, spew, vomissement, whatever you want to call it. "You don't want to have another staring contest, do you? Because you're staring at me again, and I won't have any of it. I lost the last staring contest. And I don't wanna lose another one. Or maybe..." I didn't want to think about it.

He put his arm around my shoulder. "I know that I haven't known you for very long, maybe about a month, but-"

"Time for a French lesson," I said quickly. I sat down on the couch. "And get off me!" Jared took his arm off of my shoulders right away. I intimidate him, obviously. I'm scary!

I tried to teach him my language, but his very, very American accent made the words hilariously unintelligible. "Okay, okay. One more. But only because you have THE WORST accent, and it's a RIOT! A word of advice? Let go of English dynamics. Just let the French flow through you. I know that sounds dumb, but it'll make sense. Alright? Ready?"

"Yup. Hit me with your best shot, bruh."

"Je t'aime. I love you."

"Je t'aime." He said that one perfectly. I knew that he meant it when he told me that, and I had mixed feelings about that, to be honest.

"Well? How was that?" Jared was smiling a little. It was odd to see that. He looked like a tough ghetto boy, but then again, I looked like a tough punk girl. On the inside, we were just awkward teenagers, living the derp life.

"C'est jolie. That's beautiful." It really was. I felt like I could trust this dude. So I heaved a sigh, and spilled my freaking guts.

"Can I tell you a secret?"

"Yeah, man. Whatever you feel like doing."

"As you know, my name is KC. That isn't my real given name."

"Well then, this is a plot twist. Do continue," Jared smiled. Mon Dieu, that boy made me dizzy, with his bright white teeth flashing against his dark skin. What the heck was happening to me?

"KC is an abbreviation for my true name. It's... embarrassing. I hate it."

"Tell me! God, woman, you leave me hanging too often!"

I laughed. "Alright, alright. My name is Karlotta-Cerise Tremblay. Ugh, it's horrible. Don't judge."

"Dang, that's a wonderful name. At least it's not something boring, like I don't know, JARED SMITH! What are you all worked up about?"

"Are you kidding? It's a horrible name! Karlotta means 'tiny and feminine,' and Cerise means 'cherry.' Now do you see the point of my hating my name? It doesn't fit me."

"Do you want to unwind for a while? I have a Bluetooth speaker, and we can connect my phone to it for some tunage," Jared asked calmly, breaking my intensely angry composure.

"Sure, yeah, whatever. As long as you have good music."

Jared connected his phone to the speaker, and "All of Me" played. "May I have this dance?" Jared tripped over my backpack.

"Smooth." I sniggered, taking his hand. "How often do you do this with punks, or do football players like you go for the airhead cheerleaders?"

"You are the first rocker I've danced with, but you're also the first person I've EVER danced with."

"I'm not surprised. You're a wimp! I'll show you how to waltz. Put your hand on my waist."

"But-"

"JUST DO IT, YOU NOOB!"

He put his hand on my waist. (Again, a 5-foot-nothing rocker can intimidate even the toughest varsity boy. I love doing that.) I put my arms in the right position, and kicked Jared in the shins until he did the right steps. He figured it out eventually. I think that that was because of the fact that I was wearing my favorite steel-toed boots.

"How many times do I have to tell you, even when you're crying you're beautiful too. The world is beating you down, I'm around through every mood." My eyes slowly filled with tears, and one spilled over. This was Marianna's favorite song. There were so many great memories associated with this song in my mind, now tinged with sadness. No, I thought. You cannot break. You are strong. You need to stay that way. Focus on the present, not the past.

The song ended. Jared and I were left standing, our arms around each other. His face was very close to mine. I pushed his forehead away from mine and said, "Not too bad. You'll have to practice."

"Practice what?" Lilith, that fille sournoise, that stealthy girl, had walked in on Jared and I dancing. Sometimes I hate that kid.

"Uh, practice his karate, of course!" With that, I took Jared's hand, kicked him behind the knees, and judo-flipped him onto the couch. "Work on your defensive strategy, got it? Or do we need to go over that again?"

"Can we plan now? I've had enough of HER for a while," Jared said thickly through the pillow that fell on his mouth.

"And I've had enough of HIM," I said. I winked at him, to tell him that as soon as Lilith went for another walk, I would teach him more karate (for real this time, not slow dancing. The guy needed to work on

it, and Lilith was already a black belt in tae kwon do from before the zombies.) But maybe without the steel-toed boots...