"We were two worlds that were never meant to collide. But when we did, we caused an explosion."
James Miller and Jamie Anderson were two people who were never meant to be. He's the quiet kid in class struggling with his mother's cancer diagnosis. Sh...
For the third time in a week, Jamie Anderson's alarm clock was her parent's screaming.
She turned over in her bed, trying to bury herself beneath the cotton covers to escape from the sound of the argument happening downstairs. It didn't work, and despite her attempts to ignore the shrieks, she couldn't help but listen to snippets of parent's words.
"I should've never married you in the first place!"
"You don't listen -- you never listen, do you?!"
"You know what I could've done with my life if I hadn't ever met you?"
At least this time they hadn't mentioned her, or at least she didn't think so. Jamie let out a soft groan as she glanced at her phone. It was six twenty-eight. Although she usually awoke around six forty-five, Jamie decided that she might as well get up, considering that she wasn't going to get anymore sleep anyways.
Grabbing her airpods from her night stand, she plugged them into her ears and turned on her morning playlist on Spotify. Colbie Caillat's Bubbly started playing, and Jamie tried her best to relax. She turned up the volume so that the soft strums of the guitar was the only thing she could hear, and headed into the bathroom for her morning routine.
Most of her life, at this point, was routine. Jamie would awake at six forty-five, listen to her morning playlist, wash her face and brush her teeth, get changed, and head downstairs to breakfast. She'd read somewhere that having a routine was one of best methods to establish organization in her life, and she needed to be as organized as possible.
After all, she thought glumly as she pulled her chocolate-brown hair back into a tight ponytail, that's who I am, right? Organized Jamie, got-everything-together Jamie, smart Jamie, academic Jamie --
A crash of glass from downstairs caused her to whip her head around. Even Colbie Caillat's soft voice wasn't enough to mask the breaking of china. Jamie felt her heart begin to pound harder in her chest. Calm, calm, don't panic, someone just knocked the plates over, it's fine. She immediately began to do breathing exercises she'd watched in a Youtube video. Usually, those breathing exercises worked, but this time, Jaime began to find herself panicking more.
What if someone's hurt? What if Dad hit Mom again? Should I do something? Call the police? 911? Oh my god oh my god oh my god --
"No!" She slapped herself across the face, hand trembling. "Shut up, shut up, it's fine, everything's fine."
Her cheek stung, but those thoughts had stopped, and that was all that mattered.
Jaime realized that in the chaos, one of her airpods had fallen out. She picked it up and plugged it back in her ears, then grabbed her toothbrush and toothpaste and began to brush, like nothing had ever happened.
Nothing did ever happen, as far as her parents, her peers, and her teachers would be concerned. Jamie Anderson was still the bright, gifted young student, and Mr. and Mrs. Anderson were still the laughing, loving couple.
It was just like Colbie Caillat sang:
Wherever it goes I always know That you make me smile, please, stay for a while now
Reality was always better in the songs, anyways.
Jamie rinsed her mouth, then smiled, as wide and as hard as she could, in the mirror. Her teeth sparkled. Pearly-white. Perfection.
She quickly threw on her outfit for the day that she had picked the night before, like any organized student would do. She didn't need to pack her bag -- she'd done that before she went to bed, like a responsible girl.
Taking in a breath, Jamie opened her bedroom door, and walked down the stairs. The screaming had stopped, but the broken china plate was still on the carpet. She ignored it, and headed to the table to make her breakfast, which was always cereal and toast.
Her mother was no where to be seen, but her father was sitting at the table, reading his newspaper. "Good morning, Jamie," he said with a smile, like he hadn't been yelling with his wife just a few minutes before. "Have a good sleep?"
No, Jamie wanted to say. But the Jamie Anderson that her father knew would never say that, so instead she smiled and said, "Slept like a baby."
"Oh, that's good," her father almost seemed relieved. "Excited for a new day at school?"
"Of course," she forced another smile.
"That's great, honey."
Their conversation reached an awkward lull, and Jamie focused her energy on eating her breakfast as fast as she could. She wanted to ask about her mother, but she knew that in doing so, she'd open a can of worms that she didn't want.
So instead, when she finished her breakfast, Jamie stood and slung her bag over her shoulder. "Well, I guess I'm off."
"Oh! Right!" Her father stood awkwardly and engulfed her in a hug. "Have a great day, Jamie. Ace those tests!"
"Yeah!" She gave him a high-five, then whirled around on her heels before he could say anything else, heading straight for the door.
As she exited the house, Jamie took a breath. The morning sunlight felt warm against her skin, but her hands were shaking again. She curled her palms into a fist, nails digging painfully into her skin.
"Everything's fine," she said softly, and tried, with all her heart, to believe it.
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