Dibs! (Lesbian, GxG)

Chapter 26

The last project I had to do was due today. Much to my relief, my teacher took a glance at my project and told me I was meeting most, if not all, requirements. The whole time I've been working on it, I just winged it, with an occasional glance at the rubric. 

     Someone's leaning against the door when I come out of the classroom. Thinking it's Jules, I flinch when I see the posture. It turns out to be May, who's been staring off into space while she was waiting for me.

     She perks up a bit. "Callie!" A flash of metal in her mouth catches me by surprise. Clearly, it's going to take me a while to get used to my friend wearing braces.

     "Hi," I say. I clutch the textbook I had to use. "Um, anything new?"

     "Yeah, I'm bored." We start walking to my locker. "And with Jules being in your life now, there's always something new."

     I find my locker and put the combo in the lock. "There's not much that's been happening," I lie. I'll tell her about Jules and Randy later; I just want to talk about something else right now. "What's up with Logan?"

     May sighs. Oddly, it's not one of those "he's so dreamy" sighs. "We're taking a small break," she says. "He's got homework and football, and I have . . . well, pretty much the homework. And you." The last sentence was added with a teasing smile.

     "Glad to know I'm the majority of your entertainment," I deadpan.

     "Hey! You're better than a reality TV show," she points out.

     Getting us back on track, I ask, "Exactly how small of a break are you talking about?"

     "Frankly, I'm not caring. What I care about right now is making sure I pass any classes that I don't want to repeat. Trust me, geometry is boring as fuck one time; the second time, you'd be in agony and wishing that you're dead so you don't have to deal with it."

      I stop the conversation long enough for me to shove the textbook in the tiny space and pull out another one. Closing the locker, I pick up the walking again. May comes with me. "Anything from Dominic lately?" she asks.

     "Other than the apologetic messages about what happened at the party, not much."  That's what you should be doing with Jules, a voice whispers in my head. I'm not sure why it sounds like Dumbledore, but I've had weirder thoughts before.

     "What part was he apologizing about?" my friend inquires. "The guy who was talking trash, or Dominic's sad attempt at defending you?"

     Since there were only a couple, and I received them a while ago, I have to think. "Both," I say finally. 

     We get to May's next period classroom. She waves at me and tells me to meet her at the cafe today after school, and I head off to my last class before lunch.

__________

I decide to face the cold weather today and eat my lunch outside. Now that I know gossip from Edgewood and Fife are shared between the schools, I'm not going to deal with people in the Cafeterrible, with a possibility that my questioning Jules would be heard, stretched, and shared.

     For once in the last few weeks, I don't have to worry about big assignments. Hell, even my English teacher gave us a fun word search sheet with the new vocabulary. Trust me when I say I kick ass in word searches.

     I'm about to stand up and throw my trash away when someone pokes me on my shoulder blade. I turn to see Jules. Her facial expression is neutral and no-nonsense, none of the usual happiness. The little ball of guilt that's been growing in my chest gets bigger.

     "Give me a second." I stand up and walk over to the trash can fifteen feet away. After putting the garbage through the hole, I turn back around to return to the bench. 

     Jules apparently thought my seat was the coolest; she's in the exact same spot as I was, her legs crossed and her hands in her lap. A little thought pops up in my head from first grade, when the teacher would say, "Criss-cross, applesauce!" and the students would reply back, "Hands in the basket!"

     The shirt she's wearing that's advertising a fandom isn't helping me not picture her as a six-year-old. 

     "Why did you think I was on drugs?" Jules asks, taking me away from my thoughts. She matches her tone of voice with her facial expression. "I thought you knew me well enough to not go there."

     I think this is the part where I'm supposed to be apologizing. But so far, Jules isn't showing any sign that she wants one. And if I learned a lesson correctly (other than what happened at the library), it's to answer her question first before saying anything else. Half the time. "Before you forced me to notice you at the Cafeterrible, I never knew you at all," I say. "How was I supposed to know you so well that I should strictly ignore the rumors?"

     "They're called rumors for a reason," Jules says, no longer neutral. Similar to back at the library, the switch of emotions happens fast. "The word 'rumor' comes from Latin, meaning 'noise'. Don't give me that shit about not knowing whether to trust me or the gossip."

     Her agitation makes me glad that I've got some distance between the two of us. "How'd you know the origin of the word?" I ask.

     Wrong response. "That's not important. What's important is, I've given you plenty of evidence that I don't touch that stuff. Am I childish? Yes. Annoying? To an extent. Junkie Jules, though? That's just a 'cute' nickname I was given back when I was at Edgewood High."

     I'm about to start my apology, but Jules puts her hand up, making me keep quiet. "And that nickname was thought up in the rumor mill," she says. "To the school, I went from 'Jules who called dibsed on a guy' to 'Jules who did illegal activities' to finally 'Junkie Jules', all within a span of two months."

     She stops talking long enough to stand up and walk towards me. I step backward until my back hits the brick wall. Jules puts her hands on the wall by my arms, closing the distance. "I didn't pick you randomly," she says.

     "Really?" I ask, remembering the name game I had her play.

     Jules pauses. "Okay, I did," she corrects. "But after I knew your name, I asked around a bit, wanting to know a little about you. And out of pure luck, I find out that while you have accounts on some social media sites, you're not active enough to know much about the rumors about me. 

     She takes a deep breath. "So, I restrained myself the best I could when I was around you," Jules continues. "You're lucky to never have to experience what it's like to hang out with someone who doesn't know about your past. And you know why I say that?"

     If she keeps us in this position any longer, I'm going to need my meds to calm myself. Sadly, I've already taken my dose of the day. And I don't think Jules would like it if I start breath exercising when we're so fucking close. "Why?" I whisper.

     Jules stares at me. "Because I took the time to know you, without the help of any rumors."

     Slowly, her hands lower, and she takes a step back. The motion gets me wondering if she's going to say anything else. She doesn't; she simply turns her heel and walks to a different direction. Breathing normally again, I slide down the wall until my ass hits the concrete. 

     My thoughts race in my head, running the conversation over and over, making sure I've got everything recorded, from the words to the emotions. I don't know what kind of fucking magic Jules used when she was giving me a beatdown, but it hit me kind of hard. 

     Like what the main character in those cheesy, dramatic, and cliched romance novels would say to the reader after being confronted by another main character, there was something else than guilt growing in my chest.