Jude

"Jesus, Jude. No one cares about your stellar grades."  Abbey looks up from her bowl of soggy Frosted Flakes just to tell me that. 

"Be kind, Abbey." Mum says, squeezing my shoulder as she walks around. "I'm not surprised our boy did well."

I thank my mother and marvel at the list of A-pluses on my phone's screen some more. Abbey gives me a look of judgement, but I'm used to it. Her ego grew to be the size of a bowling ball after clobbering her opponent last weekend, hence the attitude. 

Mum grabs her purse. "I'm heading to work, kids." She didn't have to indicate that with her colorful skirt and white top. She works as a pediatric therapist and is good at what she does. Working with children day in and day out makes her a patient and understanding mom, complementing my hotheaded dad. They're fire and water, but so in love they keep the house from bursting into flames.

"I'll miss you, Mummy!" Abbey jumps on top of our poor Mum. Her head reaches my forty-five year old mother's hairline. 

"Don't be mean to your brother." As she leaves, Abbey heeds the lecture and hugs me. 

"Atta boy." She whispers. "How do you think your girlfriend did?"

My eyebrows knit together in confusion. "What the hell do you mean?"

"You got straight A's on your finals and can't remember the girl you like." Her nails dig into my scalp like a pissed off cat, but her words stick to me longer than the stinging feeling on my head.

"You're right, Abs."

As Abbey shakes her head, my head replays that moment on the beach ten nights ago. Emilia is an unforgettable movie I know like the back of my hand. 

Each scene of our brief friendship turning into something larger and deeper.

Each hug makes me want to come back for more.

Each time I receive a Snapchat of her sun-kissed face.

The way she acts like a giddy little girl during a sugar rush when she's excited.

She's the movie I wish I could watch every day, but can't because she was taken off of Netflix. I'm sure she's at the beach somewhere living her best life whilst I enjoy my lonely summer. 

"So? Shoot your shot." 

"I can't"

"How come?"

"Fine." I take my phone out and open her messages. Princess Emi, followed by a couple kiss emojis fill the screen. 

Abbey wastes no time telling me what to say. "Start off with a simple hello, beautiful." I look at her questioningly and she puts her head in her hands. "Isn't she the most beautiful girl to walk this earth in your opinion?"

"That girl needs to become a bikini model."

"Perv." Abbey laughs. "I can see that. Her Instagram pictures are stunning."

"They never do her justice."

"Stay focused." Abbey smacks me like she didn't cause my distraction to begin with. Still, I comply and type in what she told me to. 

I stare at it. "There." Even though I always start my conversations with her exactly like this, my heart is about to blow up inside of my chest. 

"And? Send it."

Please don't explode, heart.

~

Being a fat, ugly wench in a world full of beauty means I see things differently than most. I'm no Lindberg, but I always have my camera, my fifteenth birthday gift. If you go through it, sunsets and pictures of my happy peers are the main things you'll encounter. Emi might get a restraining order on me if she sees the few shots I have of her doing what she loves with a massive face mask and glove.

Although tenth grade was just another year for me, I look through the highlights my camera begged me to capture. A barrage of beautiful views take up most of the storage. My old dog never fails to make the sky pretty.

Monty was my best friend from diapers until a few months after I turned fourteen. We may have competed for my parents' attention when I was little, but our bond couldn't be broken. He's no longer with us, but we're still the  best of friends no matter where he is. Lucy is the best, but I'll never forget his soft dark brown fur and cuddles. 

My phone dings and I place my camera on my table. I'm reminded that my text to Emi hasn't left my end. Looking at it makes me want to crawl in a hole since I don't have the cojones to talk to her, but Leo's "you only live once, kiddo" speech comes to mind. Impulsively, my finger assaults the blue send icon.

Delivered just now, the blue words read. 

It's over with. 

I wait a couple seconds for her to reply, but not a peep. I go back to what I was doing with my camera.

These look nice. Has she texted me back? Damn.

These look nice. Has she texted me back? Damn.

These look nice. Has she texted me back? Damn.

After an hour of this monotonous sequence, I begin to overthink. Maybe she's forgotten about me. Girls never look at-CRASH! 

"Ju-ude!" Abbey sings from downstairs. 

"What's going-" I peek out from the back to see why I've been left on delivered. 

There she is, hitting a ball better than the thirty-something year olds in the MLB. Emi doesn't acknowledge me nor the fact that she hit a ball into my yard.

Jude's catastrophizing: 1. Jude: nothing. 

I wave to her as she swings at another ball. The larger part of the bat has no time to take the ball resting on the tee from here to the Keys before she notices me standing in the way. 

This season, I've seen games where she takes that pitch to Hawaii. I can only imagine how much pressure she feels to hit the ball well. Today, Emi is relaxed and in her happy place with her AirPods in.

Suddenly, my tongue ties itself. As sweaty as she is, holy shit, she's flawless. The Lululemon shorts hug her in the right places and she's wearing a T-shirt instead of her usual sports bra. 

She rips the hair tie from her damp curls effortlessly. "Where's the dog? She's welcome to it." Emilia points to the ball with her bat. 

"Lucy's inside." I say, checking her out and praying it's inconspicuous. Her cheeks are red and it doesn't look like she has water. "It's really hot. You want something to drink?" It's not even June and it's hot enough to make breakfast on the sidewalk.

"How do I know you're not going to drug me?" She places her hands on her hips. 

"No pressure." I say apprehensively. It breaks my heart she has to think that way. Some boys my age have the capacity to do gross things to girls and even end their lives. Still, catching up after that party is all I really want to do. 

"I trust you." With that, she climbs over the aluminum fence like a contestant on American Ninja Warrior. 

I open the back door for her. "Get comfortable," facing Abbey, I add, "and don't mind my sister."

"Who mentioned your girlfriend's presence, huh?" Abbey glares at me. "Long time no see." I feign annoyance at how friendly my sister is towards my crush, but I'm grateful Emi can put up with her. 

"What do you want to drink?" I ask, anticipating her answer. "Dr. Pepper's off the table. The rest of my family hates it."

"It's all good." Emi says. "What's on the table?"

"We have water, Gatorade, juices, ginger ale, and those weird smoothies our mum drinks." Abbey answers. 

Emi asks for water and gives me a hard time for the lack of ice in the glass. Her smile once the cold passes through her lips makes this worth it. 

"Thanks, Jude." She says. "I feel a lot better."

"My pleasure, gorgeous." I reply. "Did you see the Snap that I sent you?" As quickly as it came out, I cringe. I'm not the most charismatic guy, and it's a bit too obvious now. 

Emilia briefly lifts her shirt and retrieves her phone from the stretchy waistband of her shorts. She giggles at the message, tucking a stubborn curl behind her ear.

Abbey smirks. "That was my idea." 

"Don't listen to her." I usher her upstairs. She doesn't know whether the water should come or stay down here. "Let's catch up."

"You better not get her pregnant."

~

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