by Holly Bourne
The thing is, I was a complete Daddy’s girl. His little princess. I was a “happy accident”, as my mum so adoringly put it. They weren’t expecting to have another child after my sister Louise, especially as late afterwards. And when she got married and moved away, I think it freaked them. My dad especially. So I was lavished with a lot of attention. And sometimes I wished I wasn’t, because I couldn’t imagine meeting anyone else who treated me as well as my dad did.
I started to get sleepy, but stayed nestled.
“I yelled at Ruth,” I said. “I told her off for using my panic attacks as a pulling mechanism.” I paused, wondering whether to continue. “And then I told the bloke she was trying to pull she had an STI.”
Dad was definitely surprised by that. He put his paper down again and stared at me.
“It’s such a mess,” I continued. “I don’t know what came over me. I was just so angry. She’s never going to talk to me again. And now this random bloke knows all about me. I’m so humiliated.”
I came to a stop and waited for his response, his wisdom to make it all better.
“So…” he said. “Just another normal day then? Complete misery?”
And despite myself, I laughed.
Waking up on a Sunday morning is supposed to be a pleasant experience. And for about the first five minutes, it was. The light streamed through my curtains and I happily savoured being warm and snugly in bed. Then, of course, I remembered what had happened. I jerked up and dived for my phone, which I had left buried in a discarded pile of last night’s clothes. Flicking open my screen, I saw I had nine missed calls: four from Lizzie, four from Amanda, and one from an unknown number.
I shouldn’t have run off like that. At the time it had seemed dramatic and important, but now I saw it was selfish and silly. They must’ve been worried. Angry as hell but still worried. I ran my fingers through my hair and sensed it was going to be a day for apologies.
The doorbell rang and I heard my mum answer it. Probably one of the neighbours asking to borrow some milk – it was that type of road. We had a neighbourhood watch scheme and street parties.
I was surprised when Lizzie stormed through my bedroom door, her face livid.
“So,” she said, “you’re alive then.”
I picked up a hoodie from my floor and quickly pulled it over my head. “Lizzie, I’m so s—”
She interrupted me. “If you’re going to apologize for your hysterical outburst last night, then don’t.”
My stomach relaxed in relief.
“It was the funniest thing I’ve ever seen in my life. The look on Ruth’s face. And Noah’s. Priceless. Okay, the whole thing was a tad overdramatic, but you bloody well had a right to do it. Although I think you’re absolutely mental. Taking on Ruth? You’re braver than I gave you credit for.”
“So Ruth is…?”
“Absolutely furious, of course. Do you blame her?”
“No,” I squeaked. “And you?”
“Let’s just say you’re not my favourite person this morning. Why the hell did you run off like that? And not even bother answering your phone? You could’ve been hit round the head with a hammer for all we knew.”
“I’m sorry, Lizzie.”
She smiled. “Yeah well, by the time it got to midnight and we hadn’t had a frantic call from your neurotic mother, I assumed you’d made it home unscathed.”
I patted the empty space next to me and she sat down.
Good. I was forgiven.
“So what happened after my dramatic exit then?”
Lizzie shuffled herself back on the bed so she was leaning against the wall. “Oh, it was brilliant. Amanda and I were trying to contain our hysterics while Ruth went schizo. Of course we had to nod furiously when she told us what a conniving bitch you were.”
“Great, thanks.”
“Ha ha. She’ll get over it…eventually.”
“Is this whole thing going to make things awkward…you know…between the group?”
She waved her hand vaguely. “Nah, it’ll be fine. I figure you’re even stevens. What she did was pretty low and you trumped her. I think even she realizes she took her seduction technique a bit far this time. Poor Noah.”
My body spasmed at the sound of his name but luckily Lizzie didn’t notice. As casually as I could, I said, “So what did he make of it all?”
She paused.
“Bless him,” she said. “He looked like he’d been smacked in the face. Don’t think the poor bloke is used to being spoken to like that. God, he was fit, wasn’t he? Didn’t I tell you?”
I nodded, frustrated we had gone off track. “Yes, very gorgeous. Well done, Mystic Meg. So…what did he do next?”
“Ooooo,” she cooed. “You’re keen, aren’t you?”
I flushed red. “Shut up.”
“Ha ha. Poppy’s got an uber-crush,” she said, elbowing me in the side.
“Yeah yeah, very funny. Okay, so there’s a man in Middletown whose face doesn’t resemble hell. It doesn’t mean I’m in love with the guy.”
I wasn’t, was I? I couldn’t be. Shut up, thoughts.
“I believe you, thousands wouldn’t. He’s a nice guy actually…”
My mouth fell open. “Lizzie! How can you say that? After he laughed at me and my panic attacks?”
“No he didn’t. He just thought you’d fainted. He was mortified when he found out the real reason, kept asking me for your number so he could apologize.”
I swear my heart stopped beating. “He did?”
“Yeah. He kept insisting until I gave it to him.”
The unknown number on my phone. It must have been him. I blushed again but crossed my arms stubbornly.
“Yeah, well, why would I want to talk to him?” I said in a sulky voice.
“Jesus bloody Christ, Poppy. I swear you’re crazy. God, if he was calling me I would lick the phone.” She leaned back against the wall and fanned her face with her hands.
“And you’re calling me crazy? You’re the one who wants to dribble on a piece of technology.”
“Yeah well, I think he wants to make it up to you.”
The words triggered a warm gooey feeling. I quickly summoned the rational side of my brain. He wasn’t interested in me, just wanted to make peace. I supposed I could let him. But what if he was interested? I entertained the thought for a second – it made me quiver just thinking about it. His hand on the small of my back, those dark eyes locked on mine, the touch of his lips brushing mine…
Lizzie interrupted my fantasizing by standing up.
“Where you going?”
“I’m off to Middletown Lakes,” she said, swinging her bag over her shoulder.
“Umm…why?”
“I heard the council has drained one of the ponds too shallow by accident and some fish died. Mum saw it this morning when she was walking the dog. I thought I would go down and get some pictures and quotes and then try and flog the story to the Middletown Observer.”
Her ambition never failed to stun me. “Lizzie. It’s a Sunday. The day of rest.”
“The news never rests, my dear,” she said, acting like my mother and patting me on the head like a child. “You know that.”
“You’re mad,” I yelled as she strode out of the room.
“You smell,” her voice called back.
As I heard her footsteps descend the stairs, I leaned back into my pillows. I closed my eyes and Noah’s face appeared instantly. This had to stop. I was turning into an obsessive – I was beginning to scare myself.
“One more thing.”
I jumped and my eyes snapped open. Lizzie was peering round the door.
“Ring Ruth and make it up, will you?” she said. Then she disappeared before I even had the chance to protest.
I eventually got up, showered and pottered about – the usual mild hungover Sunday activities. Every so often I examined my phone, but the blank screen stared back at me. I couldn’t decide whether I wanted Ruth to call. Or Noah. Or bo
th. Or neither.
After nearly a day of driving myself insane I decided to get out and pulled on my trainers.
As I stepped outside I knew I’d made the right decision. Much as I despaired of where I lived, I couldn’t deny its luscious lawns and green-belt land were beautiful. My phone felt lighter in my pocket as I walked to the common. I passed several middle-aged neighbours, squatting in their front gardens, bums out, eagerly tending to their immaculate flower beds or topiary hedges. Some children were playing on their bikes in the road, which was always clear of traffic at the weekend. Massive cars sat hibernating in everyone’s double driveways, resting before the perilous school run on Monday morning.
I turned a sharp left into a slightly overgrown alleyway, the trees on either side forming a green tunnel. I’d walked this path so many times I knew exactly when to raise my legs to avoid stinging nettles. The path got steeper and I pulled off my jumper and tied it round my waist – hoping like mad that no one would see my fashion crime. Eventually I emerged into startling daylight. I was here. My favourite place.
To anyone but me, it wasn’t anything special. Just a clearing where dog walkers exercised their pedigrees and a meeting place for fourteen-year-olds to drink a bottle of cider together and dry hump. But I loved it here for several reasons. Firstly, the view. The clearing overlooked the whole town, making everything look tiny, like Toytown. Any silly problem my brain manufactured would relinquish its hold the moment I sat down on the lone bench and looked out. I could see the local airport’s landing strip in the distance, miniature planes stuffed full of people landing and taking off.
I also loved how undiscovered this place was. Middletown was full of parks and green spaces, tarted up with lottery money we didn’t need or deserve. At the slightest hint of sunshine, a stampede of mothers with prams, dads with footballs, and teenagers with disposable barbecues would descend onto those spaces. But up here it was usually mostly empty. I felt I had ownership of it. I only had to share with the odd rambler or dog walker. It was my own little space where I could sit and think, away from my turbo-charged mother and my cramped bedroom, and try and make sense of whatever problem was distracting me at that moment in time.
Today it was two problems: Ruth and Noah. Up here I felt I had the strength to evaluate last night’s events. Solving the Ruth crisis was easy enough. I would have to beg for forgiveness and suck up for a couple of days. I was certain I would never receive an apology in return, but that was the way the world worked, wasn’t it? My friendship with Ruth was largely successful as long as I suspended hope of her ever growing a conscience.
I sighed, flipped my mobile phone open and dialled her number.
She let it ring before answering. “I’m not talking to you.”
I stared out over the view below me. I could handle this…up here anyway. “Come on, Ruth, I’m sorry.”
“And so you bloody well should be. I’ve never been so humiliated in my life.”
She’d never been so humiliated? SHE’D never been so humiliated? My cheeks burned with fury but I kept my voice even. Getting angry wasn’t going to resolve this. “I said I’m sorry and I mean it.”
She was quiet for a moment, thinking. “Yeah, well, I suppose you were just jealous Noah and I were getting along so well,” she said finally.
I swallowed. “Maybe…yes. That must be why.” I tried to keep sarcasm out of my voice and just about managed it.
She jumped on my admission like a defence lawyer. “So you admit you like him then?”
Oh God. Why did I make this phone call?
“I’m not saying that,” I said. “I mean, he’s okay-looking and everything, but I didn’t really get to know him.”
“Well, I don’t think you’re his type.”
My hand holding my phone was shaking. “And why is that?” I asked quietly.
“Well I don’t think he goes for the brooding, sarcastic thing. I think someone like Noah likes girls with a bit more sass.”
Of course you do. “Someone like you, Ruth?”
“Yes, well, probably,” she snapped. “Although he’s not going to be interested now, is he? Not after you told him I was an STI-ridden TRAMP.”
I switched my phone from one ear to another. It would be over soon.
“Ruth, as I said, I’m truly sorry. I was just jealous at how easy you find it to talk to boys and I acted out. I hope we can be friends again.”
Another pregnant pause.
“Yeah well, don’t do it again, right.”
Relief.
“Anyway,” she continued, “I don’t actually like that Noah guy. Much too pose-y for my liking.”
I stifled a laugh. Honestly, you couldn’t make people like Ruth up. No one would believe you. Her own self-belief was extraordinary.
“Of course. Much too pose-y. So what time you starting college tomorrow?”
We talked for another few minutes, getting things back to normal, before I hung up. I tilted my head back in relief, inhaling the fresh summer air. I’d thought she would make me suffer much more than that. Maybe there was a tiny shred of her that felt bad. And then I laughed aloud at my own naivety and startled a passing dog walker.
With the Ruth fiasco sorted, I let my mind drift to Noah. My memory was drowned immediately – the curve of his jaw, the intense look in his eyes when they met mine. I firmly pushed this to one side, determined to compartmentalize whatever these emotions were and deal with them practically.
I supposed it had to happen at some point. There had to be at least one boy out there who got attractive before the age of nineteen. But the strength of my attraction concerned me. I’d only just met him and I couldn’t get him out of my head. As I saw it, there were only two possible outcomes. One – the much more realistic option: he’d barely remember me, let alone feel anything, and I’d feel rejected and awful. Or two: he’d fall for me, soon realize I was way below his league, dump me for someone beautiful and I’d feel rejected and awful. So there was only one solution: to remove him from my brain entirely. I didn’t have the mental strength to be hurt by a guy, not now. My head was already too preoccupied trying to stop me from passing out.
So no. I wouldn’t let myself fall for him. For anyone. I wasn’t ready.
With my decision made I felt lighter. I watched another plane disappear through the thin cloud layer. The sun was going in so I slowly made my way across the clearing, savouring every last moment of the view. And then, checking first that no one could see, I skipped down the alleyway towards home.
When I woke up the next morning, I groaned. It was Monday.
I hit the snooze button, pushing my head under the pillow to block out the light shining optimistically through my window. Lying on my front, I practised my breathing exercises again. I breathed in and out slowly, but it was difficult not to doze off. For a moment I slipped back into sleep and my thoughts floated elsewhere.
Noah’s eyes appeared before me the moment I closed my own. In a dozy haze I let myself imagine how it would feel to have his arms wrapped around me – those same strong arms I’d seen playing the guitar…
The frantic trill of my alarm jogged me awake properly. I took my time getting ready for college, as I had a free period first thing on Mondays. I’d washed my hair the night before and plaited it into four sections. I slowly unravelled them so my hair was wavy and dabbed on some make-up. I pulled on some light blue jeans, a white vest, and twisted my long turquoise-stone necklace around myself. After breakfast, brushing my teeth and checking I had all the right books, I set off. It was a gorgeous day, the sort that rarely bestows itself upon England. I wondered if anyone would bother with lessons or just sit in a beer garden instead. I put my iPod headphones on and turned the music up loud. It was definitely a morning for The Beatles and I picked “Here Comes the Sun”. Dad had once said this was the only song that really summed up a British summer, and he was right. Everything looked beautiful. The roads were quiet, green leaves burst from trees, birds sang out lik
e ambitious reality-show auditionees, and everyone was wearing summer clothes and had a grin across their face.
I played my favourite walking-alone game where, in my head, I pretend I’m in a music video. Imagining myself leaning into a wind machine and practising my dramatic-singing face made the journey go quickly and soon I was walking up the college path. I was enjoying myself so much that I didn’t really notice somebody tapping my shoulder. I was singing under my breath, oblivious to everything, when I felt it again.
I turned round, music still blasting in my ears, and there he was. Right in front of me. Noah. Wearing a rolled-up pair of jeans and a blue T-shirt. Looking perfect. My heart started thudding and I felt out of breath. I stared at him gormlessly, music still roaring. I couldn’t hear what he was saying; I was too busy concentrating on staying upright. So, so perfect. His so-dark-brown-they-were-almost-black eyes were wide and questioning. My breathing was getting faster and I was scared I was panting. Noah motioned to me but I just stared back like a fool. Then he was reaching towards me. The pace of my heart picked up as his arm approached – the arm I’d fantasized about only this morning. He reached for my face. Was this happening? Was he going to cup it? Was this morning’s daydream actually a premonition?
And then the reassuring sound of The Beatles disappeared and I realized he was just taking my earphones out.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to shock you. Can you hear me now? Poppy, isn’t it?” He was smiling but it was strained. I think he was nervous. Probably scared I would yell at him or pass out again.
I gulped and nodded idiotically. Memories of the other night whirred back. The humiliation, the hurt. I felt my face turn tomato.
“Hey,” he continued. “I tried to call you Saturday night but you didn’t pick up.”
I didn’t know the correct response so I stayed silent. My heartbeat was so loud it was stopping my mind from thinking of anything coherent to say. It felt like a warning drum and all the hairs on my arms stood on end, like when I’m home alone and I hear an inexplicable bang – a primal fear reaction. But Noah was just a boy. He wasn’t dangerous, was he?
“I feel really bad about what happened.” His smile had gone. My silence was obviously bothering him. “I didn’t really understand what was going on. Your friend Ruth just dragged me over. I only laughed out of nervousness.”
