"Even death has a heart."
Markus Zusak.
Everything amplifies. The sun is brighter, the world more voluminous in terms of sound, questions pile themselves on top of each other. They suffocate me, their remarks of concern flowing faster than a stream, my breathing is limited, my train of thought crowded.
We stand their in the front garden, the yellow tips of grass stroking our ankles, our eyes studying everything insight, our hands begin to tremble, our perplexity evident from the shift in the atmosphere. The awkwardness creeps into our conversation, deciding to sit between us as it makes itself comfortable.
Opening our mouths, we close them again in hopes that we may find the right words to utter. Biting my lip to prevent it from quivering, I tuck my hair behind my ears. I feel myself go red and I try to look away from the perfect boy. Gulping, the adults bombard us with their curious inquires, shaking us, yelling our name, waiting for some kind of response.
Breaking my promise to not look at Wyatt, I patiently stand there, putting the pieces of the puzzle together, wanting to hear some kind of click. All I hear are the pieces breaking. The universe shattering. My mind wandering to all possibilities, yet none of them seem possible. None of them make sense when I attempt to organise them.
"I want logic," I plead. "I want an answer."
"Val, I...," Wyatt begins. "Are you wearing Donald Duck slippers?"
Looking down, I face palm myself. Indeed, I am wearing DONALD DUCK SLIPPERS!
Simultaneously, the adults snigger, shaking their heads, disbelieving what they're seeing. They cover their mouths, stifle their laughter but the embarrassment is still present and I can't help but go red at the humiliation.
"Silly Valentina!" mother exclaims. "I told her to get dressed before coming down!"
As soon as this comment is registered, more laughter occurs. It gets to the point where John departs from the group to 'take a moment' and Anne has to wipe the tears in her eyes.
"It's okay," Anne reassures me. "Now onto business. How do you two know each other?"
"We go to school together," Wyatt answers, slightly giggling. "We're in the same English class."
"How did you two meet?" My mother quizzes.
"We..." I begin.
"At English," Wyatt retorts quickly. "I found that it was easy to talk to her. So, I decided to become her friend."
"Friends?!" I think. "You always referred to us as that but I never thought you meant it."
"She's a very good person," Wyatt continues, turning to my parents. "Your lucky to have her as a daughter."
Then, John stumbles towards us, regaining his composure and putting an arm around his son and wife. Still smirking, he acknowledges my family with a simple nod of the head.
Looking uncomfortable, Wyatt waves at me. His eyes seem filled with worry, he looks as if this may jeopardise our friendship. However, with a weak smile I manage to portray the feeling of calmness. I manage to tell him that I accept what's happening and that I don't mind, as long as he doesn't bother me.
"And as long as he doesn't leave me," I think.
Woah, where did that come from?
"Hey," my mum says, "I have an idea!"
Rolling my eyes, I sigh and try my best not to cringe when she says the next words.
"Why don't you all come to dinner?"
"Oh sugar," I think. "Oh no."
"Really?" Wyatt questions, doubting the idea.
"Of course!" Mother exclaims. "How about... six o'clock?"
"How about...no and...no and...wait a second...NO."
"Sure," Anne agrees. "We'll be there."
"Great," my father says. "See you then."
Turning to leave, my mother stops me by grabbing my wrists. She digs her long, pointy nails into my skin, glaring as she forces my to stay. She brings her lips close to my ear.
"Aren't you going to say goodbye to Wyatt, Val?" She asks, mimicking Wyatt's voice when she whispers my nickname.
Taking a deep breath, I do as she says.
"See you said soon, Wyatt."
Wyatt nods, ambling back inside his new home.