“Wait a minute. So what you’re trying to tell me is that this whole ‘Celine-plot’ was to keep me from getting hurt? Hugo, looks like that already happened!” I blurted.

I peered down at Hugo in his hospital bed. It was the type that had stained white sheets that were more yellow-y than white. It had silver (I think it was silver, but I can’t really bet you because of the undeniable rust) bars attached to the head and the foot of the bed. I didn’t see the Hugo I’d been familiar with back in middle school. Instead of an incredible actor, he was now a magician. And he made all my respect for him perish, but all I needed was for him to return it.
“Genevieve, I meant physically.” He answered. Hugo looked innocent, almost vulnerable.
“Since when have you been cautious, or should I say conscious of me getting hurt?” I leveled.
“Geni, you know that’s not true!” Adele added. I sent her my most ominous look.
“To tell you the truth, I don’t know what to believe anymore. I gotta think.” I solemnly exited the room. My head had a surplus of thoughts racing. I was suddenly becoming aware that someone was observing me. No, more like stalking me. Every time I planted my casual, yellow Converses to the squeaky, yet dingy hospital floor, I heard a brief echo. I spun on my heels, and saw Celine…standing there. I was silent, not timid, but baffled.
“Think all you want,” She sniped sarcastically, and finished rhetorically, “But where will it getcha?”
“Celine, if you came here to sabotage, oh I don’t know, everything, I think fate has already done that!”
“Gen, when have I ever done that?” She batted her ostentatious eyelashes to reveal her faux sky-blue eyes that she’d suddenly widened for an innocent-look.
“I think we both know the answer to that,” I jibed.
“I just came here to warn you.” Celine’s face distorted into a more neighborly vibe, as she twisted her “Petal-pink” lips into a more serious pout. If she was practicing the art of shape-shifting, then she would be phenomenal, but instead she was trying to bamboozle me. Not going to happen!
“Warn me about what?” My plan was to act ignorant, this way, if she was on her exasperation limit, she would just tell me her plot.
“Honestly, if Hugo did this to me, a pretty girl, what do you expect him to do to someone like you?” I blinked, not defeated, but prepared for a vicious war. “Not everything is about being gorgeous!” I shot back. Celine didn’t even flinch at that strike, lucidly to my dismay. “I’d expect someone like you to say that!” she snickered at her “witty” remark.
“Celine, what do you do, go around labeling people to be at a lower status than you?” I questioned. That was her Achilles’ heel; her shallow purpose in life was her weak point.
“Look,” she exhaled, obviously damaged from my sarcastic remarks, “I didn’t come here to fight. I came here to help you. Hugo fooled us both. Don’t you get it? Or are you really that naïve?”
I was utterly stunned. Celine was deep?! What’s next?
“Don’t believe me,” she sneered, “But you’ll regret it and be sorry!” When she seethed like this, she resembled a hungry snake, but snakes don’t threaten that you might rue a colossal option, they just excavate for a meal.

I made my way back to Hugo’s hospital room. I had a serious case of paranoia as I pondered whether or not Celine was miraculously correct. Was he that shallow? Would I have regrets? Would I need Celine as an acquaintance in the long-run? And that’s just to name a few.

“You, okay?” Adele asked. She looked worried, and in unison we replied,
“Not at all.” I shook my head. I believed in following my heart, but currently, my heart was sending versatile messages. Maybe I should listen to my head for a change. I mean, I’m living proof that all your heart ever suggests is to fall in love no matter how much you know you might make it out with a broken heart. “You’re over-analyzing this whole situation.” She informed.
“I know, but you know that once I begin to over-analyze, I can’t stop myself.”
“Why don’t you talk to Hugo?”
“Talk to Hugo? You want me to talk to Hugo?! Are you out of your mind?!!!”
“It’s the only way to clear things up.” Adele reviewed, fixing her curly brown hair, “All you have to do is tell him how you really feel.”
“Adele, the problem is, I don’t even know how I really feel!”
“Just try it. You’ve got nothing to lose!”
“Fine, I’ll try it, but I don’t wanna emerge from this fiasco with more tears to wipe up than I already have.”
“Enough with the metaphors. Just go for it!”
“It wasn’t a metaphor…”

I put aside all my awkwardness and walked into the room. He looked at me, and in that mere, wordless moment, I knew exactly what my heart was saying. Go for it! You knew since the day you met him, you were in love!
“Hey,” I said, and my awkwardness returned.
“Hi,” he replied. Even if he was as tense as I was, he didn’t let it faze him. He was just that cool. “I thought you left.”
“Why would I do that?”
“Because I thought you hated me…And you had every reason to. I was protecting you, when you didn’t need my protection.” I pretended to be unaware of Hugo’s rambling because honestly, I knew if he wasn’t babbling, I’d be the one with the perpetual thoughts I needed to blurt out.
“Hugo, I need to tell you something.”
“What?” he seemed caught off guard.
“I…um…I…uh…” I suddenly felt nauseous. Why was I so tongue tied? Adele would be scolding me at this moment if she were here.
“You okay?” he asked. That was the second time in one day I’d been asked that in one day. I felt like I was going to throw up. But I couldn’t tell Hugo that, could I? I suddenly wished Adele were here. But what could I do, walk out on him to get Adele? That was not an option, at least not a logical one.
“Yeah, yep, I’m fine.” I answered, queasily.
“You sure?” he repeated to my dismay and uneasiness. I was about to vomit, and I was pretty sure I couldn’t hold it back.
“Will you excuse me?” I asked.
“Sure. Is everything alright?”
“I just have to tell Adele something. No big deal. It’ll just take a sec.” I bolted out of there faster than anyone in my gym class probably knew I was capable of running.”Geni, Geni what’s wrong?”Adele appeared to be peeved. For one thing, I hadn’t gone through with my portion of the plan, and for another, she was just fed up with my imagination that seemed to get me nowhere. “You just don’t get it. I’m no Celine, nor will I ever be.”
“He compared you to Celine? What a jerk! Is he really that clueless?!”
“No Adele, he didn’t. But I felt sick in there. I am terrible with boys! I’m never going in there again!”
“Enough drama, and you bet you’re going back in there!” She was as persistent as a puppy insisting to go on a walk.
“No! What do you want me to do? Puke?
“Eww…Anyway, I’ll help you.”

“What do you expect me to do?” I asked.
“Talk to him!” Adele clarified.
“About…”
“Anything.” She finished.
“His music?”
“It’s a start.” Adele dismissed my “session” with her signature hair flip. She was building up my confidence, but I was unsure if it was the correct remedy. Either that or I was allergic to the remedy Dr. Mouton (that’s the nickname Adele gave herself) prescribed.