Because You're Different ✔

21. Hormones

Nathan

I couldn't figure out what was wrong with her, and it bugged me. She'd said she'd forgiven me for not telling her about Charlotte, but I didn't believe her. Not when she retired to the study more and more, even when I was home, and claimed she didn't have time to cook because she had too much homework. I didn't see Sam sweating over French sentences for hours on end, though. "Yeah," Sam said, "I don't get it either. She's been getting A+'es for weeks now, and believe it or not, Mrs. Pope gave her an A+++ for her last essay. I didn't even know A+++'es existed."

"I think I might be making her uncomfortable," Charlotte had told me after she'd made me confess I was worried about June. "Have you seen her T-shirts, Nathan? They have holes in them!"

"Not all of them. She can't really help it, Charlotte. Her parents don't have the money to buy her new clothes; most of it goes to their health insurance."

"So why haven't you and Sam taken her shopping?"

This was one of those moments in which I could only damn myself for falling for a rich girl. I knew she would never understand, no matter how many times I'd explain it. "Would you want your loaded friends to pity you and take you out shopping because you can't afford it yourself?"

"Yes!"

See? She looked at me as if I was the fool, but she was quickly going to find out that this time, it was her who was wrong. "Fine. Then ask her. But I promise you, you're not going to like the answer."

"Good. I think you're very mistaken here, Nathan. You've never been a fifteen-year-old girl."

Okay, her funeral. It'd be a valuable exercise to practice her lawyer skills. I should make sure I was no way near them when she'd suggest it, and also stay away from her sometime after: Charlotte could go wild if something didn't go her way. While it'd been funny at first, by now, I rather left her to cool off on her own.

So, when I went into the kitchen one morning and asked Sam where the girls were, and he said, mouth full of cereal, "Gone shopping, I think", I stared at him like he just informed me they were moving to the moon. "What?" he said. "They're girls. It's not such a weird answer." And he walked away, grabbing his bowl and his phone, leaving me perplexed.

Maybe Charlotte was right. I'd never been a fifteen-year-old girl.

Why hadn't we thought of it?

I didn't know if it was the result of the new clothes or the fact she and Charlotte now seemed to get along, but she was cooking again, and she was shining. I couldn't keep my eyes off her, wondering how she could be this different all of a sudden.

She seemed to be floating around the kitchen, a smile on her face like she was the queen of the world. Skinny jeans and a new shirt. Probably cheaper than our cutlery. Those simple things had taken her to a whole new level of confidence.

Why hadn't we thought of it?

Even Sam had finally seemed to notice she was pretty. "Did you know?" he'd asked me, blinking like he wanted to make sure he wasn't dreaming.

I'd hit him on the back of his head. "Of course, you ass. And you stay away from her, okay? She doesn't need teenage boy hormones harassing her."

He grimaced. "Gross, Nathan. She's like, June. I don't even know how you could think that." Still, I decided to keep an eye on him in case he would wake up a little smarter someday.

"Nathan, help me with the oven, please?" She was standing right in front of me, big brown eyes filled with lights again, and all I could think of was that in the future, I had to listen to Charlotte more often.