11: The Birds and the Bees

Quincy St. Martin

I drop my bag at the foot of the bed, peel the hobo hoodie off me, and fling it into the far corner of the room. I flop myself onto my bed with a resigned sigh.

I’ve been to several job interviews in the last few weeks. Today was my seventh, but I could tell right away that they’re not interested in hiring me.

I'm not being ambitious or anything. I’m not aiming for a high-flying job at all, more like flipping burgers. Initially, I had been searching for jobs on the web.

Yesterday and today, I just walked around town and went in whenever I saw a help wanted sign on the window.

Hobo hoodie is lying in a heap on the floor like an old rag. I glare at it for a full minute, and then I sigh in frustration. We have a love-hate relationship, hobo hoodie and I.

It’s complicated. I wanna break up with it, but then I need it. I want to burn it, but then I don’t. See? It’s complicated.

The trouble is I don’t think I can score any job with hobo hoodie on. I wish I could ditch it, but I think I saw one of Loup Noir Pack members on campus on my very first day of school during lunch, a few weeks ago.

It was just for a split second. Like a coward, I took off. I didn’t stick around. Call me crazy but I just didn’t feel like getting re-acquainted, talking about the weather, or exchanging contact information with the guy. No, thank you.

Jonah confirmed the night after that they ~were~ here. So, love it or hate it, hobo hoodie is keeping me safe. Jonah keeps telling me not to bother looking for any jobs yet because it’s not safe, but I can’t keep sponging off my cousin. He’s buying my food.

I also learned that this house belongs to him, and he refuses to take my rent money.

A week before, he drove me to school and gave me a bus pass for the whole semester. Last week, when he offered me money after another failed interview, I almost had a meltdown. He shook his head and called me abnormal.

He stated that he’d never met anybody who’d had a meltdown after being offered money. Then he slipped the money into my swear jar and left. It’s not really about the money. It’s the principal, and it’s about not having my life controlled by the Loup Noir Pack anymore. I want to be free of them.

Why can’t they just leave me alone? I just want to be normal. Werewolves and those other creatures are trouble. They make my life hard, and sometimes I can’t deal, no matter how many times I keep counting my blessings.

Jonah and Jorden are the only two ‘not normal’ people that I can allow in my life right now.

After a shower, I put on a baggy T-shirt and pajama shorts and wander into the living room. It’s already after eight, but nobody else is home. The house is very quiet and in total darkness except for the light from my bedroom. So I turn the lights and the TV on and plunk myself on the sofa and try to read.

It’s no use, really. My mind keeps drifting back to a certain non-human golden god. I learned that his name is Caspian. Lord, even his name is sexy. I hear girls talking about him all the time. It’s been a few weeks since the first time I saw him.

I still see him once a week in that lecture hall. I’ve seen him around campus a few times since then too. He’s almost always in the company of these three stunningly beautiful girls, turning heads wherever they go. Not one of them is human.

If he’s not with any of them, he’s always surrounded by human girls who compete for his attention. Some of them look so desperate it’s embarrassing.

There are times when he seems to ignore their attention and looks so bored, but there are days when he seems to be enjoying it.

His eyes linger on the breasts almost spilling over their tops or the legs under the shorts and skirts so tiny they might as well be belts. Uggh. It’s disgusting.

Maybe it’s my own fault. I should stop watching him. I feel like a creep watching him like that, but I can’t help it. I vow not to be one of those girls who fawn over him and make a fool of myself no matter how fucking gorgeous he is.

Yet I can’t seem to get him out of my mind, and it’s driving me crazy. Why am I so drawn to him? I know that he’s gorgeous, but this is stupid.

I don’t want to be drawn to him. Wait. Is my book upside down?

I throw the book onto the sofa in frustration just as Jonah’s Jeep pulls in. The lights from his Jeep flare into the living room through the slits of the blinds. He kills the engine, and not a minute later, he walks in.

“I’m going to order Chinese. What do you want?” he asks, walking past me across the living room. Just like Jonah. ‘Hello’ and ‘how are you?’ don’t exist in his vocab.

“Anything you’re having,” I say. I know that I won’t be paying, and it feels wrong to ask for anything.

Besides, I’ll eat anything on the menu. Food is food. I’m easy like that.

Jonah disappears into his room, and I hear him giving his order on the phone before he closes the door. Twenty minutes later, he joins me on the sofa.

His hair is damp from the shower. He looks relaxed in his tan shorts and a gray short-sleeved T-shirt.

He reaches behind me for the remote control and starts to change the channel.

“Jonah, do you think they’re gone by now?”

He doesn’t answer me. He just keeps changing the channel. Sometimes I think changing the channel is his hobby.

He doesn’t really watch anything; he just changes the channel. Sometimes he stops when he sees something interesting, and just when I start to get into the show, he changes the channel again. Sometimes I suspect that he’s doing it just to annoy the crap out of me.

“Jonah!” I tug his arm. “Do you think the Loup Noir Pack trackers are gone now?”

Still, he ignores me, but he stops at ESPN to watch the sports news.

“Jonah. Jonaaah! Jonaaaah!!! I start poking his arm with my index finger.

“Goddess, you are annoying!” he says.

Of course, I am. What’s with him stating the obvious now?

“If you just answer my question, then I wouldn’t have to be so annoying now, would I?”

He just grunts, scowling at the TV. He starts changing the channel again, and I’m getting impatient, so I pluck the remote from his hand.

“Are they gone? Yes or no?” I ask him. “Jonah, just say yes or no.”

“Just keep wearing the hoodie,” he says, snatching the remote from my hand.

“But it stinks and it's ugly and I can’t get a job wearing it,” I protest. “They’re gone now, aren’t they?”

He grunts again and keeps changing the channel. Is that a yes or a no? This is so confusing. He refuses to answer the simple question. He even refuses to look at me now.

Suddenly it dawns on me. They’re gone! They’ve probably been gone for weeks now. Jonah just wants me to keep wearing hobo hoodie.

“Why didn’t you tell me they’re gone? Why d’you let me keep wearing that ugly-ass hoodie?” I ask him. “Jonah?”

“That hoodie will keep you out of trouble. It will keep those college pricks from looking at you. You don’t know what they’re like. They’ve got one thing in their minds when they see girls like—”

“Really? For real, Jonah? Are you going to teach me about the ways of the birds and the bees now?” I am slightly mad that he made me wear hobo hoodie for longer than necessary, but never have I seen Jonah more uncomfortable than he is right now.

His face pulled into a painful grimace when I mentioned ‘the birds and the bees.’ It’s so comical, and payback is a bitch.

So I innocently say, “Nana sat me down for the birds-and-the-bees talk once. She told me about how they make babies. Daddy’s part goes into Mummy’s part. Then they—”

“Enough!” he says, springing up from the sofa. His face is slightly red.

I slap my hands over my mouth to muffle my laugh. Oh, God, the funniest thing ever! Jonah looks so relieved when the doorbell rings. He can’t get away fast enough to answer the door. The food has arrived.

He should be thankful that I didn’t give him the real version of Nana’s birds-and-bees talk, which happened when I was eight. She left me quite shaken and made me look at boys suspiciously and pregnant women with sympathy for the next couple of years afterward.

We spread the egg rolls, shrimp low mein, chicken fried rice, honey garlic spare ribs, beef and broccoli, and Kung Pao chicken on the coffee table in front of us.

“Wow, this is a lot of food,” I comment.

“Are you complaining now?” he asks me.

“Nope, never,” I say quickly, shaking my head vehemently. “Nana used to say, when it comes to food, a lot, yes. Never enough,” I tell him.

He grunts in agreement, and then we eat in silence. I’m still trying to wrap my head around the thought that I’m finally free of hobo hoodie. So, all this time, Jonah just wanted to stop me from meeting men, or rather men from seeing me. I can’t help but plan what I’m going to wear to class on Monday.

I suspect that Jonah is just relieved that I’m no longer bugging him about procreation and parent parts. After we eat, we clean up and watch TV for a little bit. Then Jonah disappears into his bedroom.

A few minutes later, he comes out of his bedroom wearing the same gray T-shirt but with a pair of black jeans and biker boots.

“Where are you going?” I ask him.

“Out.”

“Out? Are you going out to a party? Can I come?” I ask him eagerly. “Please? Can I come? I’ll be good, I promise. I’ll be super good. I’ll be super suuuper good. Please? Please?”

“No.”

“I can be your wingman…or wingwoman.”

“No.”

~Bummer~.