Page 21 of The Death of Kisses

“Mrs. Jacobs, you’re not supposed to be in this class.” I saw Mr. Waters glanced up just as the door closed behind me, and a surge of panic hit my chest.

“Yeah, Mrs. Wright said I could come in here since they were talking about HIVs and I get queasy fast.” I hastily lied, feeling my heart race.

He nodded slowly. “Alright, take a seat,” he said, and I hurriedly slid into the first empty spot I saw, clutching a fragile hope that I wouldn’t be outed or judged.

Suddenly, a hand touched my shoulder, and I nearly jumped out of my skin. I looked up to find Charlie staring at me with a mixture of concern and curiosity.

“You don’t have AP chem,” she whispered softly, worry lingering in her eyes.

“Yeah but it was the closest class to my locker.” I groaned, feeling my cheeks flush with embarrassment and frustration.

She reached into her bag and handed me her notebook from earlier social studies class. “Here,” she whispered. “ I managed to take double the notes, since you like to sleep in it anyway. Our project’s due after the break, so I think we should get together soon—collaborate, you know?”

“What?... uh sure.” I mumbled, eyeing her detailed notes filled with little cartoon drawings of the founding fathers. I looked at her, but she was totally absorbed in the lecture about mixing hydrogen properly and ending up in some reactive state. I spent the rest of that period doodling in Charlie’s notebook, my mind racing, my nerves jittery, jumping at every small noise that broke the silence—feeling both overwhelmed and secretly grateful for her kindness.

Lunch raced past me in a whirlwind, a frantic blur of motion that made me feel completely detached—like I was there, but somehow not truly present, trapped in this strange, out-of-body sensation. I can’t even bring myself to recall the sound of the final bell ringing, as if those moments slipped away before I could grasp them.

“Hey Anna, could you give me a ride?” Charlie’s voice suddenly reached into my chest, and I felt my heart tighten with urgency.

“Oh yeah, where are you headed?” I hurriedly unlocked my car door, my mind racing.

“Oh, I thought you knew—your dad invited me over. Something about a therapy tradition, I think.” Her words made my stomach twist with a mix of worry and hope.

“Oh shoot, I completely forgot about that! Yeah, come on, we’ve got to go now before Dad decides to cook—he’s terrible at it, and I’d rather not risk that!” I laughed nervously, trying to hide the unease fluttering inside me as I slid into the car.

“Same here,” she chuckled softly, a small smile giving me a flicker of comfort.

She climbed into my car, and we drove in a thick, tense silence toward my home. Every mile felt heavy, but through it all, I couldn’t shake the overwhelming relief that Charlie was there with me—someone so kind, someone real—rather than that creepy stalker lurking in the shadows.

“You nervous?” Charlie asked softly.

For a fleeting moment, I completely forgot about the message painted on my nails. I forgot about the figure lurking outside my window. I even forgot about the handprint around my ankle.

“No,” I lied, though my heart pounded a little faster.

Charlie smiled gently, and I couldn't help but be struck by her beauty—the way her raven hair poured over her shoulders, illuminating her face with that warm, glowing smile.

“Good,” she replied, her voice reassuring yet tinged with unseen concern.

I pulled into the driveway, killing the engine. My mind raced as I gathered the last fragments of courage to face whatever was waiting.

15

THERAPY

Present day - October 16th- Town of PineRidge - Population 5025 - 18 yr old

“You’re late,” Dad’s voice rang with a mixture of warmth and gentle impatience from the kitchen as I finally pushed the door open.

“I know,” I managed a strained smile, dropping my backpack onto the sofa and kicking off my shoes, feeling that heavy guilt settle in my chest.

“Oh Charlie, finally! Nice of you to grace us with your presence for an early dinner. I promise I won’t talk your ear off,” Dad teased, his tone light but tinged with affection.

“Did you cook?” I asked, aromas of Italian herbs and spices teasing my senses from the kitchen, bringing a flicker of hope and comfort.

“No, I figured pizza was easiest. I ordered Tony’s—hope you don’t mind, Charlie, it’s got pepperoni.”

“Not at all, Mr. Jacobs,” Charlie responded, carefully placing her bag beside her shoes by the door, her eyes glinting with anticipation.