I normally don't do many chapter dedications, but the lovely @ariqueen21 has pointed out something incredible-- apparently Garrett is like a soc while Josh is a greaser? That's awesome, that wasn't even intentional. What do you guys think about that? :)

||Jamilla Tate|| First Person ||

        I've never been one for the cliche moments in life-- they never sat well with me. I grew up in a household constantly aware of all of my inadequacies; I wasn't perfect enough for my parents to be happy with me; I couldn't keep friends for the life of me... I wasn't deserving. Finally being able to fall asleep without tears in my eyes on the regular has been an absolute dream for me. Having friends has made me feel almost feverish, like I'm going to wake up at any moment and find myself back in Cleveland. I'd have been clutching my acceptance letter to Ohio State, stuffing the contraband-like papers back into my drawer with a heavy sigh, knowing that it'd never happen. I would never escape them.

        Meeting someone as lovely as Joshua Dun has become one of my fever dreams. I'm waiting for the moment that I'll wake up in a cold sweat, never knowing who he is and never harbouring this sense of desire in my chest at this moment when his eyes scan  my face for any sign of disapproval to his idea. I pause, my heart hammering in my chest like the beat of a drum.

        Josh's question throws me entirely off-guard, my throat closing up for a brief second as his words replay in my head. My palms feel sweaty and my head feels light, so I'm shifting in my seat awkwardly with a billion questions on my mind. Why would he want me, of all people, to stay with his family during Christmas holidays? I couldn't have made enough of an impact on his life for him to want me to accompany him on the trip back home. 

        Me, come home with him?

        "Josh," I say softly, and the brunette boy looks down at the steering wheel with his face flushed from the biting wind. "Josh, that's really sweet of you, but I can't--"

        "I want you there, Jamilla." Josh says firmly, and I stop myself from coming up with a rebuttal, instead allowing myself to bask in the sense that I finally have people who care about me. I inhale a shuddering breath, rubbing my eyes with my cold hands as if to rid myself of my apprehensions. "If you're going with Garrett or something--"

        "I'm not." I say clearly. Josh pauses for a moment, looking over at me with the ghost of a smile teasing at his lips, as if unsure if he should be relieved yet. I chew on my bottom lip, my eyes flickering up to stare at the roof over our heads. "Why..."

        "I... like you, Jamilla." He says slowly, as if I hadn't been aware of it at this point in our immensely complicated relationship. The feelings between us are mutual, but with Garrett in the picture and the sore hit that Melodie Rivers(or Meningitis, as I liked to say) delivered to our relationship... We aren't prepared at all. We aren't ready for it. "I know that you'll be miserable, shuffling around Park-Stradley for the holidays, and my family will love you." He tries to explain, fidgeting in his seat nervously. "I want you to come home with me, Jamilla."

        It takes me a moment to finally address him, a moment that he allows me without a second thought. I reach back for my ice cream, slipping the lid off slowly before bringing the cup back towards me. I eat a spoonful, staring at the dashboard blankly so I wouldn't have to look at Josh while I betrayed Garrett. "Okay."

____

"No, Jamilla, James I is the same guy as James VI," Garrett says around a laugh, running a hand through is windswept curls absentmindedly. "James VI was ruler of Scotland or something but since he was cousins with Elizabeth I, he became James I of England..." It should have been easy for me to have memorized at this point, but I've been so preoccupied of late with the plaguing notion that I'd be going home this holidays with someone who is not my boyfriend. Garrett is all giggly and dopey, his eyes wide and bright as he helped me study for my upcoming History examinations... He doesn't know what I've done.

"Oh, I'm... Sorry," I say sheepishly, staring at the comforter on his bed so I don't have to make eye contact with him. It's nearing nine at night, and Garrett has been helping me memorize notes about the Renaissance period in Europe for the past hour or so. The thought of staying with Josh's family for the majority of December is both mind boggling and exciting, but I know Garrett isn't going to be happy about it. How could he be?

"Is something bothering you?" He asks me, and when I don't immediately look up at him, his fingers are tucking underneath my chin and tilting my head up to look at him. "Jamilla, what's up?"

"I'm... I-I'm fine, Garrett." I fumble for my words, and he can tell. Garrett isn't stupid, he knows when I'm bullshitting him.

"You never forget about James I, you said he liked witches and was the wisest fool in--"

"Would you be mad if I told you I'm going to spend the holidays with Josh's family?" I barely manage to blurt out, stopping Garrett in the midst of his sentence and instead shocking him with my truth. Garrett's mouth stays agape for a moment, his eyes wide but his gaze still focused on my face. I feel small then; insufferably tiny.

I hear laughter coming from someone in the halls, and it seems incredibly loud in comparison to the sullen silence in Garrett's room.

"What?" He says. "You... Home... With Josh?"

"It's not anything, he just--"

"Josh isn't your boyfriend, Jamilla." Garrett states, his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed. I freeze, my fingers stalling on yanking at the threads of my sweater. I want to speak, to open my mouth to refute his claims, but there's nothing I can say to that. "What kind of boyfriend lets their girlfriend spend the holidays--"

"The good kind." I say. Garrett glares at me, and I immediately shut up.

"No." He says.

"No what?"

"No, you aren't going anywhere with Josh." Garrett says firmly, his eyes narrowed and his fists gripping my textbook harshly in his hands. My heart hammers in my chest, my eyes wide open. I want to run-- something about the way Garrett speaks reminds me of someone that I once knew. "Why the hell would that even be something to ask--"

"I wasn't asking for your permission." I say, albeit in a small voice. Garrett pushes himself off of his bed before tossing my textbook into the space next to my leg. The corner of the large book hits my thigh roughly, and I wince with the force that he put into throwing my book.

"I don't give a shit, Jamilla!" Garrett yells at me. "You're my f*cking girlfriend-- why the hell would I let you go home with that--"

"Maybe because you're not my parents!" I explode on him, pushing myself off of his bed with my textbook in hand. "I wasn't asking for you to let me, I was just--"

"You think I'd be fine with this?" Garrett yells back at me, taking an intimidating step forward that only makes me take a step back. "You think I want my girl to meet some other guy's family?"

"Christmas break is in two weeks, Garrett!" I shout at him. "You haven't even brought it up! You know damn well it's either I stay here or--"

"I'd much rather you stay here than go--"

"I don't want your permission!"

"As long as you're my girlfriend--" it happens so fast that I'm not even entirely sure what we were doing in the milliseconds leading up to it. Garrett grabs my notebook off of his bed in a quick swipe, his arm retracting and then flinging the book in my direction. The metal rings that bind the pages together smacks straight into my face, and I'm recoiling against the wall, clutching my throbbing cheek and squeezing shut my paining eye.

Garrett finally stops.

"Jamilla," he says slowly, but I can't deal with it because God, haven't I already escaped this? "Jamilla, I didn't mean for it to hit you--"

"I'm leaving," I choke out, my voice trembling as I bend down to pick up my notebook and the textbook that I've dropped. Garrett moves towards me, but I make this terrified sound so he stops. His eyes are wide with apologies that I don't think I can stand to hear.

"Jamilla, please," he says worriedly, but I shake my head and grab my coat, pulling it on as quickly as I can. "Jamilla, stop right now and listen to me!" He raises his voice, and I hate how weak I feel when a helpless whimper escapes when he grabs my wrist. "Jamilla," he says softly, but I don't see the boy from five minutes ago who was teasing me over my study notes. I don't see the boy with the camera, anxiously asking for his SD card. I choke out a sob.

"Garrett," my bottom lip trembles, and he looks so terrified then that I can't stop crying as he searches my fave for any sign of bruising. He kisses my forehead and then my nose and then my cheeks and then each closed eye before pulling me into a hug that I involuntarily melt into.

"It was an accident," he murmurs apologetically, but I don't care because all I can remember is my mom hugging me after hurting me. 'Don't make me angry, Jamilla' she said, 'I hate having to hurt you, baby.' All I can remember is my dad slipping a 5 under my shoes after hitting me with his belt. "I'm so sorry, baby, it won't happen again. I swear to you Jamilla, please..."

I don't go home until half an hour later, my trembling fingers stuffed into my coat and my face burning with the memory of kisses from a boy I no longer think I know.