Kissing Jeeves, part I
Written by me. At age 15, I believe.
(Just a warning... this is verbatim. Therefore, no editing. At all.)
KISSING JEEVES (part 1)
When I came down to the dinner table, I wasn't feeling very well. We (Uncle Bertie and I) were dining in that night. Jeeves served us roasted duck and the smell made my eyes water.
"So, how are things, at the, eh, bording school?" my uncle inquired, straining to make polite conversation. "And your teachers, are you getting on?"
"Quite well, thank you," I replied, cutting into the duck.
"I didn't get on at all with most of my teachers," my uncle went on. "I suppose it was because I so often had the wrong answers..."
I tasted the duck. My stomach rumbled and my ears grew hot. Just as Jeeves reappeared, I knew what was going to happen. In my rush to get out of the room I overturned a chair. As I ran for the bathroom, I heard quiet, steady footsteps behind me. I rushed into the bathroom and kneeled at the toilet. I head someone kneel behind me and a pair of gentle hands on the sides of my head, supporting it as I involuntarily emptied my stomach. After I was finished, and had flushed the toilet, Jeeves helped me back up onto my feet, gave me a drink of water, and half-carried me down the hall to my room. He helped me into a nightgown
(OK. I have to interject here. He helped her into a nightgown?!!! Don't think I thought through the implications on that one.)
helped me into a nightgown and put me in bed. I was crying as he was about to leave. He turned around and cleared his throat. He seemed as if he was uncertain about weather or not he should say something.
"Troubled?" he asked, one eyebrow arching a little
(I've always been a fan of raised eyebrows)
arching a little. I couldn't respond. He hut the door behind him and sat down on the edge of my bed.
"It's perfectly in order if you tell me what's on your mind. I am not employed by you, and therefore, can be more familiar with you,"
(Eh, Jeeves? Sounds a lot like rationalizing to me)
he said softly, looking a tme. "I can be a good listener, and as you know, have helped Mr. Wooster out of many a predicament."
I flushed. How could I possibly tell him, of all people, what was wrong. "I guess I'm overdoing it a little," I said, looking down. He took my hand and pressed it.
"Could the problem be... , love?"
(please say no, please say no)
"Yes," I replied, looking at him inquisitively. He looked back, and something seemed to pass between us that hadn't before. I could see his thoughts and it seemed to me, that, maybe, he was having a similar problem. "What about you, Jeeves? What's troubling you?" I asked him, in a voice that sounded strange to me.
His gaze grew piercing. The door swung open. Jeeves hastily detached his hand from my own and nodded to my uncle, who was entering the room.
"So, feeling a little queasy, Wot?" he exclaimed. "Sometimes one of Jeev'es little pick me ups will cure all problems of that sort."
"I would guess, sir, that Miss Travers would hardly be able to keep such a thing down," suggested Jeeves, and his lips twitched a little.
"Oh, quite," my uncle appeared a little disgruntled. "Well, then, sleep well, what ho, see you bright and early and as fit as a fiddle, I expect!" With this cheery remark he left the room.
Jeeves smiled distantly at me. "Good night, Miss Travers," he added, and softly closed the door behind him.
I cried myself to sleep.
Part II coming soon :)