"No matter your problems, face them with a bright smile and a bucket of chocolate ice-cream," nana once wisely told me. At the time, I was barely twelve and thought that I could summon a unicorn if I just believed in myself.
A decade later, despi...
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Maeva'spoint of view.
"Is she still alive?"
"Don't be silly, James! She's just a little perplexed."
"Jules, she hasn't blinked in a while. You're a psychologist, do something!"
Although I can clearly hear them studying my not so great mental state, I cannot seem to break out of the vicious circle of thoughts I got myself into. Herds of ideas run wildly in my head, and no matter how hard I try to recompose myself, my brain refuses to take the control back on my body.
Why did he move out? He and his father obviously had a fight, but it's not the first time they do! Is he okay? I bet he's sitting in his car, trying to calm himself down. Does that mean I'll never get to see him on the balcony again? And here I was waiting for him like an idiot. Should I call? Nah, I won't even know what to say... Stupid brain, stop burning already! I could really use some advice, conscience. Hello...
'...' I suppose I'm on my own.
Just as I'm about to enter another dark whirl, several blade-like objects sink into my skin and I can't help but wince at the agonizing feeling taking over my arm. Seconds later, my mind's finally back to its normal state, and I find three pairs of worried orbs fixed on me.
"If pinching's part of your process, I'm never setting foot in your clinic, Jules!" James squeezes his eyes in recoil which earns him a tongue click after which Julia apologizes for almost dethatching a section of my skin with her nails.
"Are you okay, Meava?" I only nod since I'm well aware that whatever the words I say, and no matter how well studied, the inner chaos raging in me will eventually burst. I think that one out of service brain scandal is enough for the night.
"I heard that you're a plant whisperer," asks Jackson and I feel like kissing him on the head for changing the subject; if only we didn't just meet!
"You mean THE plant whisperer?" Being his usual exaggerating self, James begins filling Jackson in on the many green miracles I pulled on his plants. Full disclosure, I only moved his cacti into a sunny spot and ordered him to stop drowning them in water every single day. Even kindergarten kids are knowledgeable about that if you ask me.
Not having the opportunity to intervene, I leave James marketing the hell out of my so-called miraculous skills, and take the opportunity to enter a room from which emerge some very familiar voices. Greeted by the faint smell of wood, I find it hard not to place my hand on the mahogany shelves packed with agonizingly heavy books. Despite my addiction to written arts, this particular collection nearly causes me a panic attack, for I cannot imagine myself reading a ten pounds court reports file.
"If I were you, Charles, I would carefully calculate my next move." Anthony sits on a huge desk chair, his feet roaming inches away from the ground, and a smug grimace covering his face as he waits for his opponent. If it weren't for his still-growing teeth, one would probably think that he's a fully-grown man who's been left a little too much in hot water. With his strangely mature sense of fashion, he never fails to pull off some jaw-dropping clothes combinations that actual adults, such as my father, are barely able to envisage.
