Completed Wattpad Version of {Kinda, Sort Of}

Chapter 2~ Camryn

Chapter 2

Camryn

After Jason flicks on the ceiling light, the room brightens up to reveal my albums. Forty-two in total, they take up an entire wall of my bedroom, opposite to the door. My writing journals lay in a collapsing heap in my hanging chair, which protrudes from the ceiling like a fish hook.

Plopping down on my window seat (which doubles as my bed) I peer out the window to watch the last of the fall leaves flutter to the cracked pavement. I reach down to pick up a novel off the floor and place it back on the tiny wooden bookshelf, which lays next to the window. The crack from the door allows the cold air to bleed into the space. Suddenly I realize I'm still wearing Jason's sweatshirt, and immediately take it off and fling it at him. I grab a sunset orange jacket from my walk-in closet and slip it through my skinny arms.

"Okay, let's get down to business." Jason says in a deep, monologue voice. He takes a seat in my leather desk chair in the corner of the room. The large, flat-screen, of my desktop Mac book flares to life with a neon glow, when Jason presses the power button.

Research articles flow down as he scrolls with the mouse, until he clicks on a chart showing pictures of all 44 presidents. I recognize some familiar faces; Theodore Roosevelt, John F. Kennedy, Abraham Lincoln, George Washington, and all the other people we learned about during 8th grade. The mouse lingers over a picture of President Roosevelt, until Jason clicks on the website listed below it. His eyes begin to skim the pages of the biography until he comes back to reality. Just like me, Jason loves to read. But when he reads anything, whether it's a novel, article, textbook, or whatever, he blocks out the rest of the world. Unlike Jason, when I read I compare the characters' situations to my own personal problems (and that could take a while).

"Okay, Bridge. I got my president dude picked out- your turn!" Besides the last-name-teasing, Jason also prefers to use 'Bridge' as my nickname, as opposed to Cami, like everyone else. He likes to think he's special, because he's the only one who calls me by my middle name.

I roll my eyes. Lord, help me with this one.

"Alright Jase, scoot over."

Two and a half hours, four soda cans, two bowls of trail mix, a couple of cheesy jokes from Jason, and about 20 pieces of crumpled notebook paper later, we sit there droopy-eyed, staring at our finished projects.

"Oh my gosh. I can't believe I did it." I say with astonishment.

"Neither can I," Jason replies. I shove him off the window seat and onto the turquoise and grey colored carpet. He lets out a childish squeal of pain while looking at me and pouting like an eight-year-old. I shrug. You asked for it.

Jason turns 16 again and stands up, only to tower over me like a giant, at his full height of 5'11. "Wanna go to the spot?" he asks, but I'm pretty sure he knows my answer, before I can even get the word 'yes' out of my mouth.

I jump off the window seat and slip on my cream-colored flip-flops. Jason picks his backpack up off the floor, throws it over his shoulder carelessly, and follows suit. By the time we get downstairs to the shop, my mom is already flipping the OPEN sign to CLOSED.

"Where're you two going?" she asks concernedly. Even though we live in Oregon, one of the quietest and safest places to live, she is completely overprotective of me. She always needs to know where I'm going, and who's with me. Don't even get her on the topic of boys; we would be here f-o-r-e-v-e-r. She was even skeptical about my friendship with Jason as we got older. I understand her concern of me hanging around boys so much during my teenage years, but Jason and I would never have that kind of relationship- he's too much like a brother to me. (Plus, Jason has enough chicks drooling over him- he asks ME for advice about THEM). She eventually realized she has really nothing to worry about.