August 17, 2015

There's a heatwave going on. The temperature fluctuates while the day progresses at its sluggish pace, but Jamie estimates it's in the mid-nineties this afternoon. That means it's far too hot to do much of anything. And far too hot to wear a T-shirt.

Jamie's sitting at a desk that isn't hers, flipping through pages of a math textbook that isn't hers, either. Kaden should've returned this to their school before summer break started, but he didn't. If Jamie had to guess, he kept it just because he could and quite possibly to use it for bonfire fuel in the near future. The fate any sensible person would wish upon a math textbook, really.

"We don't have to go back to school for another week," Kaden observes from the other side of the room. "And I don't think you've ever opened a textbook outside of a classroom before. What's so interesting about that thing now?"

Actually, Jamie did open textbooks in the past. She used to at least try and do homework, but getting started and staying focused were always so difficult. She'd procrastinate until it was too late, or give up in the middle of an assignment when things got boring or challenging, or half-ass the whole thing to be done with it before moving on to activities she doesn't loathe with a passion. The end results were never pretty, though. Eventually, she figured she might as well not bother at all.

But Kaden doesn't need to know that. Nobody needs to know that. Let everyone believe she doesn't and never bothered to care. Jamie finds that much easier than explaining that she somehow just can't with things like homework. She'd probably get accused of making excuses if she tried, anyway.

She spins Kaden's desk chair around so she can face him. He's sitting on his bed, absent-mindedly scrolling through his phone and snacking on a rice cracker. He never bothered to put his own shirt back on, either. Nice. It may be too hot for sex, but Jamie can still enjoy the view.

"It's the names," she explains. "I swear the writers of these books give the people in their problems the weirdest names imaginable. I forgot to figure out what the most fucked-up name in this book was before I handed in my own copy, so I'm rectifying that now."

To Jamie, it's as good a way to pass the time as any, but Kaden raises his eyebrows. It reminds Jamie that his eyebrow game is strong. But of course it is. You can't be a Certified Bad Boy without your eyebrow game being insanely next-level. Jamie's pretty sure it's in the job description.

She's also pretty sure Kaden's giving her the look. The one that says I don't know if I should be weirded out or entertained right now. Jamie knows this look well, for she tends to see it multiple times on any given day.

She's generally well-liked wherever she goes—popular, even. She's nice, she's funny, she knows how to have a good time. But she overstays her welcome too fast and too often. At the end of the day, people often seem at a loss of what to make of her, and some may even be relieved once she's left.

She's confusing. Nobody likes being confused.

(Jamie doesn't, anyway.)

"Do you have a winner yet?" Kaden settles for this safe question, though his attention wanders to his phone's screen. Jamie knows he's scrutinizing himself in the selfie camera—can tell as much from the way he's trying to tousle his brown hair until it sits just right.

There can't be a winner when I haven't made it through the whole book yet, she considers telling him, but that's a letdown of an answer, even if it's the truth. So far, 'Mark-Matthew' takes the cake. Who in their right mind would ever call their child Mark-Matthew? For the love of god and all that's holy, pick one name or the other. It can't possibly be that hard.

But Jamie has an answer that's better still. She smirks. "Kaden with a K."

Kaden stops chewing on his rice cracker, pensive. After a few seconds, he swallows in an almost lazy fashion. "Fuck. I should've seen that one coming." He doesn't sound offended. Not particularly amused, either. He lays down on his bed as if continuing to sit upright is far too taxing for him today. "Weird-ass summer project, though."

"It's hardly a project," Jamie defends, turning back to the textbook. "Temporary entertainment at most."

Like you, she almost adds on impulse, but she stops herself in time. That's another thing she doesn't much feel like voicing right now. Truth be told, this fling was never going to last beyond summer break.

Jamie knew that from the start.

Kaden is a heartbreaker, burning through girls like it's nothing to him, like he'd be king of this town if only somebody would hand him a crown. And contrary to popular belief, Jamie isn't that naive. When Kaden asked her out, she never for a second thought she'd somehow be different than those earlier girls. She'd initially considered rejecting him right away.

But then all she'd thought had been why not go for it?

Because Kaden is exciting, fun, a surefire way to stave off the inevitable summer boredom. Because he's hot and good in bed, because he likes getting wasted at parties and driving way over the speed limit even when it rains. Because he's rich and popular and an excellent waste of time. Because her parents hate his guts and that's the cherry on top of an irresistible pie.

Jamie said yes because this fling suited her fine, because two can play a game, even though Kaden thinks he's the only one playing. Perhaps he's looking forward to breaking her heart; it's probably the kind of thing he gets off on when he's all alone. But Kaden can't break anything Jamie never handed to him in the first place. She's almost eager to see how this is going to end.

"You're documenting your findings on my post-it notes." Kaden sprawls out, talking more to his ceiling than to her. "That screams project to me."

Jamie lets that sink in, glancing at the paper trail she's leaving across Kaden's desk.

Yeah. Okay. Maybe it is a bit of a project.

Whatever.

Jamie isn't going to argue. It's too hot to die fighting on a molehill.

"Fine. You have a point. Speaking of projects..." She leans back in her chair, recalling that other project that's been floating around her brain for about a week now. "...I think I might start a YouTube channel."

This grabs Kaden's attention. He props himself up on his elbows. "Wha– YouTube channel? You serious?"

Jamie nods. "Yeah. I think it could be fun."

Kaden snorts. "That's already a lost cause before it's even begun. You're not gonna get rich or famous."

Who said anything about getting rich or famous? It could be kind of nice, Jamie thinks, to become either one of those things. To have fans, to be appreciated, to perhaps even be considered cool enough to have a Wikipedia page. But she's realistic enough to know achieving that would require a remarkable combination of skill, effort and sheer luck—a combination almost impossible to attain. That's undoubtedly what Kaden is talking about, and Jamie can't say he's wrong.

But the project doesn't need to rake in money or fame to make it worth her while. If she stops and thinks about it, there isn't much she wants in life. World peace, she supposes, and a free lifetime supply of chocolate milkshakes. Maybe a hug sometimes.

Mostly, though, she'd just like to escape the inevitable boring drudgery of everyday life. Something to do other than nothing. Something enjoyable she actually likes that'll spice up her days, make them suck a little less. Making videos, doing and talking about what interests her and sharing that with others, could be just the thing she's been fruitlessly searching for in parties and recklessness and too much alcohol on the weekends.

She'll settle for obscurity if that's all she can have. She'd already consider herself lucky if her future channel showed up in the pop culture section of a shitty Trivial Pursuit rip-off app some other bored teenager threw together.

That's a type of being famous, too, isn't it? Trivia Famous. Fun Fact Famous.

Jamie would like to be Fun Fact Famous one day.

"I didn't say I was hoping for fame and riches, did I? Just that I thought running a YouTube channel could be fun."

"Don't be ridiculous, Jamie. If you're not doing it for the fame and the cash, what's the point?" Kaden chuckles. "You'd just be another loser talking to herself on the Internet."

Woah. Temperature in the mid-nineties and it's T-shirt weather after all. Who would've thought?

Jamie abandons her mess of math problems and post-its in favour of getting up and figuring out where she discarded that damned article of clothing. "So what? It doesn't harm anyone. Besides, your opinion on the idea doesn't matter all that much. It's my project and it has nothing to do with you."

"What would you even make videos about? Hit me with it. We'll see if it's any good."

Considering Kaden's attitude so far, Jamie knows there's nothing she could answer that would receive his useless seal of approval. But refusing to reply would be the coward's way out. If she's going to create a channel for real, he'll be able to watch her videos, anyway, so she might as well tell him what's up.

"A bunch of things. There's stories out there I think are worth telling." She breaks the narrative off almost immediately when she spots her T-shirt half-hidden behind one of the bedroom curtains. She snatches it off the floor, slips into it and pulls the curtains open for good measure, allowing the afternoon sun's blinding light to filter into the room. If Kaden wants to keep bathing in cool and comforting shadow, he can damn well get off his ass and close the curtains again himself.

"Stories."

"Interesting stories. Strange stories." Jamie continues her hunt, this time for her shoes. "About things we can't explain. Weird legends, unsolved mysteries, haunted places, crazy folktales. Occulty things and magic. There's a lot of ground to cover."

She doesn't go into too much detail, not for Kaden. But, a decade ago, Stella spent a few weeks interrogating Dad about spooky Mexican folktales for a school project concerning getting in touch with your roots.

Jamie had insisted on listening. Dad had allowed it—miraculously, as she may have been a bit too young to be delving into such material. Dad himself had laughed it off, but Mom hadn't been amused when she'd refused to go near any bodies of water for a solid year, so terrified had she been of encountering La Llorona. Jamie smiles at the memory.

Those are the kinds of stories she'd like to tell.

She finds her shoes, unceremoniously kicked off before, and puts them back on. Ties the laces without much fervour. Kaden is laughing hard now—so hard he might roll off his bed if he doesn't watch out. Jamie thinks it would serve him right.

"Who would even want to watch that? Do yourself a favour and let this idea go. You'll only embarass yourself and people won't have any problem letting you know." Kaden grins far too sharply. There's a glint in his eyes, the cruel kind—the mark of someone who relishes tearing others down just to feel good about himself. "But if you're going to do it, shit, you should upload on a set day each week. Fridays, maybe. Then you could call the whole thing Freakshow Friday. I'm sure people will love that if they find your content at all."

Sunglasses, that's all Jamie still needs. No way is she heading out in this weather without her sunglasses. She takes them from Kaden's desk, not bothering to restore order to the chaos she's leaving in her wake. That's also something the jerk can do himself should he feel so inclined.

His fatal error is his unshakeable assumption he can say this kind of shit and get away with it.

"You know what, Kaden? Go fuck yourself."

He laughs. He's pathetically slow to catch on. "I have you for that."

"In your dreams, asshole. We're over. Enjoy your stupid rice crackers." Jamie makes for the door. "See you next week in history class. Unfortunately."

From the corner of her eye, she sees Kaden sit up properly. His expression is baffled, shocked. Desperate, almost. "Hey, I– Wait, come on, don't do this! You know I'm just messing with you."

Jamie leaves without another word.

She knows the difference between joking around and bullying. She knows Kaden doesn't care she's walking out the door because he cares about her. Her dumping him instead of the other way around just makes him feel like he's no longer in control.

She doesn't know very many things, really. But at least she knows all this.

Stepping outside is like stepping into an oven, the sun scorching her skin. It's blinding, trading a shadowy house for this harsh and bright light, so Jamie puts her sunglasses on. There's way too much adrenaline coursing through her veins and it would be dangerous to run home in this heat, but she might do it, anyway. She ponders this as she starts on her way back, until she stops and laughs.

Shit. She forgot her socks.

That's so fucking dumb.

Jamie laughs until it hurts, and then she laughs some more—just loses it on the sidewalk. Every stranger driving by may think she's batshit crazy, but what else is new under this blazing sun?

She laughs because it feels good and because, despite all the shit, there are still things worth laughing about. Things like forgotten socks she won't go back for and the fact the sun is still shining and summer isn't over yet. Things like a project she'll definitely make happen now, because there's nothing, absolutely nothing anybody could still say to make her want to give it up.

And among all the negativity Kaden spouted, there may have been one gem of a thought worth keeping in mind.

Uploading on a set day each week is a pretty great idea.