"Best Friends"

Lifting up the heating blanket that’s holding Hades from my stomach, I carefully place him to the side and reach for the remote of the ceiling fan. I love Hades, I love snuggling with him – I do, but Jesus Christ does that heating blanket get too hot too fast. I know I could just leave my little dark-chocolate Sphynx kitten to any of his beds or houses or trees strewn across my sizeable bedroom suite, but there is something so special about having him in bed with me. Curling around the edge of the heat, I run my fingers down his ever-so-slightly fuzzy paw. His little squinty eyes look up at me, then straight to my nightstand where my phone lit up with a text. Seeing as my phone is almost dead, I curl uncomfortably to it, keeping it plugged in, to reply back to Jonah. For real though, you sure a pool party is enough? Why wouldn’t it be? We’re only turning 15 Oh… right. It’s 16 that’s a big deal? Sweet Sixteen, yeah. 15 is Quinceanera Thanks for the fun fact, WASP I snort. We are both as white as can be - the ladies of my family apart of the Daughters Of The American Revolution and my dad’s mother knowing the Scottish clan her father was a part of, tartan and all. The Wilson’s are the spitting image of Nords while I and my mom are classically Irish - red hair, freckles, the works (even if it’s now generations back). Still though, I know a lot about random s**t and there are at least a dozen books on my shelves where the main character of Latin or Spanish background. I haven’t quite kicked the teenage-romance phase I am in right now (which Jonah comments is weird because how did I ‘downgraded’ from romance novels – or as his brother called it ‘girl p**n’.) But… there’s a difference between the heart-pounding, blood-boiling instant attraction and passion of a lot of the adult romance novels and the slow and increasingly real connection between two people who are friends first like in the teen books. Suddenly, Hades stretches a paw against my thigh, his needing-to-be-clipped nails digging into my skin. This brings me back from my far-off thoughts and I type to Jonah about our birthday. Right in the middle of my second text back to him, a notification lowers across my screen. I click over to Clark’s conversation. I can hear Jonah laughing…. You really should go to bed. I looked up at the “Goodnight” I’d sent him, tapping it and yep, that had been over an hour ago. You’re right…. I know. Goodnight, Candice. Goodnight, Clark. I’ll see you in the morning. Smiling a little, I put my phone back down on the side table and pull my stuffed bear down the back of neck. Even now, there’s plenty enough time for me to get eight hours of sleep, eat breakfast, and be ready before the Wilson brothers come to pick me up for school. Still, though, it is nice of Clark to worry… he knows how it’s actually important for me to get a full nights sleep given the abrupt news last Spring that my off-and-on depression was actually Bi-Polar I Disorder. Right as I am drifting, the blue light of the phone screen glows. Heart-thudding a little too hard, I look. But alas, wrong Wilson. My brother just stopped playing his guitar. Goodnight, Candi no, my mind runs rapid tonight. I thought, maybe, if I tried to finish the song I am writing for her birthday that would be enough to quiet my mind. But it actually made things worse, me now trying to figure out how the Hell am I going to play it for her? Get her alone, in private, and play it for her. Jonah mentioned something to Pops about a pool party, which he was thrilled about because it is a perfect excuse for him to use the grill. It also meant Pops could stay home and there wouldn’t be a lot of drinking from us youngins. It’d been a few years, but Pops is still trying to be friends with us rather than the single-parent he now is. At least he’s home. Unlike Candice’s dad. Groaning, I rub my face and sit up. Kicking my comforter off, I reach over the side of the bed for my acoustic again. My lyrics are crap, for once, but there’s a huge difference between a how-can-I-say-I-love-you-without-the-words ballad and the common-denominator hate-the-world rock song. Going through the music twice, I start singing softly the third time. Clark I blink a few times and check the name. Candice. Her medication usually knocks her out for eight hours. I text her when I get up and sometimes it’s another twenty minutes before a text back. She shouldn’t be up. What’s wrong? Brother Music Sleep Biting my lip a little, I can’t help but smile. She can barely type, she’s so out of it. What if I told you the song’s for you? I sigh and backspace. Sorry. Sleep well I try not to overthink the heart. She always ends her conversation with Jonah that way, too. I’m sure a ton of people get the little typed-out heart. She’s cute like that. Not that I could exactly tell her, now that cute means something completely different in my head - in my heart. But it is nevertheless true.