The Explorer's Apprentice

3: Belle

 Song on the right = beautiful. ------------>

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Isabelle Claiborne

When Isabelle Claiborne answers the knock at her front door, Jamie Holt is the last person on earth she expects to see. But he’s standing there, sandy golden hair looking dark from seawater and she can tell he’s been at the beach. He’s got a blue shirt on and the sleeves are rolled up past his elbows, and she can’t help but notice his muscular biceps. His pretty blue eyes, as blue as the ocean he’d just come from, survey her with obvious curiosity. And he’s got a smile on his face, kind and beautiful, that resembles an angel’s.  It lights up the moonless night.

Absolutely breath-taking.

“Hey…” He says, a bit uncertainly. “Uh…I wanna ask you something. Can I come in?” Usually, he wouldn’t even have to ask. But lately things have been different.

Isabelle hesitates, because she can’t help but wonder how in on earth anyone is able to have a voice as soothing and hypnotic as Jamie’s. Oh, she scolds. Hopeless Isabelle, you’re absolutely hopeless. Stop staring like a freak and answer him already! “Uh huh.” Hopeless.

She leads him to her bedroom, neither of them saying a word until they get there. The silence is an odd contrast to what the pair are used to, and neither of them know how to handle it. For kids who have been the best of friends since third grade, at the moment they surely don’t look it.

Isabelle grabs a seat at the foot of her bed, but Jamie stands tall by her door that’s creaked open a bit. He can’t stop fidgeting, like a nervous child, and Isabelle is probably the only person alive who would notice.  She probably knows him better than anyone—maybe even better than he knows himself. He looks so odd next to the pink walls and floral decor of her room—like he doesn’t belong. And for this, Isabelle can’t help but feel a pang of guilt.

“You rearranged everything,” he says, nodding his head towards the spot by Isabelle's desk where her bed used to be. Now it faces the window.

“Yeah,” Oh gosh, Isabelle thinks, looking down to hide the red that’s blossomed on her cheeks. What’s wrong with you Isabelle? Can’t you just be a normal person and carry out an actual conversation with the boy?  But she can’t, no matter how hard she tries; she just can’t ignore the lovely fragrance of him. Even from across the room she can smell it—a delightful whiff of the sea mixed with the faint but terribly seductive scent of his cologne.

Then to Isabelle’s surprise, Jamie says, “Are you mad at me or something? ‘Cause you’ve been avoiding me, and don’t try to say that you haven’t ‘cause you make it so obvious. I’m sorry if I did anything to, you know, make you mad, but it would really help if you told me what that thing was so that I could—what?”

She’s shaking her head like a wild woman, a million thoughts of shame and disagreement flowing through her confused brain. Oh gosh…oh gosh Jamie I’m so sorry. Of course I’m not mad at you; you’re my best friend in the whole world. You’re absolutely perfect in every way. I could never be mad at you. Not even when I caught you smoking with those ‘friends’ of yours. Not even when the police said you guys robbed a store. I know you would never do that, Jamie. The truth is…well I’ve been avoiding you because I’m not used to the way you’ve been making me feel lately. I’m not used to the way I feel like melting whenever you touch me, or the way I completely stop breathing whenever you look in my direction. I’m not used to any of this Jamie, and its scaring me. You understand don’t you? I think I may be in love with you, Jamie. I think I might’ve been this entire time, ever since the third-grade when Riley Harrison called me that name, (the first time I’d ever heard the ‘b word’), and you punched his teeth out for it. You’re always looking out for me. I love you, Jamie…

“Belle…?” She loves the way her name sounds, rolling off of his sweet tongue.

“I’m sorry Jamie, It’s not you. Really, I….“ She lowers her voice to a whisper, “I could never be mad at you. And I’m so, so sorry for making you think that I was. You’re my best friend in the whole word, you…” Isabelle takes a deep breath, choosing her next few words very carefully. “I just…I don’t know. Things have been…weird for me, I guess, with senior year starting and all. It has nothing to do with you, really.” She even forces a tight, toothy smile.

Jamie stares at her through slightly narrowed eyes, not completely buying it because he knows her better than anyone else in the whole world, too. But she won’t stop smiling until she’s convinced he's convinced. She smiles so hard that her cheeks hurt. “Do you wanna talk about it?” He asks, the tone of his voice laced with obvious concern.

“Oh no,” she stands up and heads over to her dresser, pretending to reorganize the pictures on its mirror—anything to keep him from seeing her face and reading her lies. Her long blonde curls curtain the side of her ivory face for added protection. “I think I’m okay now. Really, I think I’ll be okay. But thanks.”

“And you’re su—“

“Positive.” Isabelle wants to spend time with Jamie; she wants it more than she’s ever wanted anything. What frightens her though is just how much she wants it. It's more than a want. It's a desperate need. An ache that only he can soothe. 

“Okay….”

“You’re going to pick me up for school tomorrow, right? Just like always?” Jamie and Isabelle drive to school together, and before Jamie could drive, they walked, everyday. The path to school is so familiar that it's practically a part of Belle, holding pieces of her, her memories, her secrets, like little ghosts.

“If you want….”

“Of course I do!” The familiar feeling of guilt begins to stir in her belly once again. Hurting him is the last thing she’d ever even dream of doing.

She’s just…she doesn’t even know anymore. “So I’ll see you tomorrow? Ten to eight?”

“Yeah,” he says. He’s got his hand on her doorknob and one foot out in the hallway. “Just like always.”

When he leaves, she’s stuck standing in the middle of the room fingering the bracelet she made. It’s the only one she can’t sell because she loves it so much. Her tiny hands are perfect for making jewelry, and Belle does so with the shells she finds by the ocean. It’s one of the few things she feels she can actually do perfectly. And she loves it.

Usually she sells her creations, but this one she could never part with. There’s a shell in the middle that’s as blue as her bright eyes, and Jamie found it. Just for her.

She doesn’t want him to leave.

She wants to shout after him, make him come inside, make him draw her like he used to. They wouldn’t have to talk. She wouldn’t have to keep messing up.

Jamie is the best artist in the world. When he draws, the paper becomes a mirror. But an enchanted mirror, a cursed mirror, the kind that so captivated young queens and drove them insane. Wicked. Haunted. Knowing they could never have what they wanted. Because his mirrors reflect back incredible creatures, without bumps, blemishes, or cowlicks. They capture you at your best self, the person you feel like but never look like.

Jamie makes ordinary things like Belle beautiful.

When she thinks of him, so many contradicting emotions brew within her and make her feel sick. Excitement, fear, happiness, despair, longing, and most of all, hatred at herself for feeling and acting so…weird.