by Holly Bourne
I poked him in the chest. “It’s BECAUSE you liked what being a coffee-drinker implied. The ‘image’ it gives out. You forced yourself to like it because you wanted to look like a proper grown-up person. When really all you wanted was banana milk.” I held out the glass again. “Now drink up.”
With amusement in his eyes, he leaned forward and took a long sip. He swallowed.
“So?”
“Yeah, it’s good.”
I punched the air triumphantly. “I told you.”
He grabbed my arm mid-punch and again pulled me into him. I settled back against his lean body, proud of myself for winning the argument.
“You are just the teeniest bit crazy, aren’t you?” he whispered in my ear, making every inch of my body erupt in goosebumps.
“Every girl is a teeny bit crazy. Some of them are just better at hiding it than others.”
“I suppose you’re right. I like that you don’t try to hide it.”
I laughed. “I do try and hide it! I’m just not very good at it. I’m incapable of keeping my mouth shut.”
“I like you very much, Poppy Lawson.”
I let the words sink in and a smile stretched across my face.
“Yeah…well…you’ll do,” I replied. And then I squealed again as he tickled the side of my stomach in protest.
Time passed at record speed as we sat there, getting to know each other better. We became one of those incredibly annoying couples who laugh at each other hysterically. When Noah came back from the till holding two glasses of banana milk, I burst out laughing and got a few dirty looks from customers. We talked about everything and nothing. Hours passed but neither of us brought up anything serious. There were huge questions hanging over us, questions we’d come here to supposedly work out. What was Noah going to do about Portia? What was this weird thing between us? Were we going to get together? If so, what would that mean? I was dying to ask about his past and the rumours I’d heard. I was sure he was intrigued to know more about me too, like why I’d hidden him in a bush so he wouldn’t have to meet my mother, or what the deal was with my panic attacks.
But it was so much easier to talk about nothing. We talked favourite movies, favourite bands, books, and all the usual stuff, but I didn’t take much in. To be honest, while he was talking, I couldn’t concentrate much. I would nod convincingly when really I was examining his gorgeous cheekbones, staring into those black eyes, or fighting the urge to run my fingers through his hair. I think he felt the same because sometimes, like when I was explaining why I told everyone my favourite band was The Beatles when really I didn’t have a clue who my favourite band was and I was just copying my parents, he would suddenly cup my face with his hand. It was a surprise to both of us when we looked out the window and saw it’d grown dark. I had one last slurp of my drink and took Noah’s outstretched hand.
We dawdled home, wanting to draw out the journey for as long as possible. As we walked past identical manicured lawns, I learned that Noah obsessively read newspapers.
“Really? But they’re so depressing.”
“You shouldn’t hide from what’s going on in the world just because it’s depressing.”
“Now you really do sound like an anti-capitalist rock star.”
“Shut up.”
“So how many do you read?”
“All of them, including both the locals.”
I was stunned. Well, he didn’t go to college, and he hadn’t mentioned a job. I guessed that gave him time to read all the papers.
“Isn’t that an expensive habit?”
He shrugged. “My parents pay.”
Silence. We hadn’t discussed his parents either. I wondered whether Lizzie’s gossip was true. Did he really live alone? At seventeen? I supposed there was time to find out.
“So what’s happening in the world then?” I asked.
“Loads. In fact, lots has been happening in Middletown recently.”
I stopped in the road. “Yeah right,” I said sarcastically.
He nodded. “It’s true. Do your parents not get the local papers? There was a story last week from the local weather association. They say there’ve been all these weird temperature fluctuations. Haven’t you noticed we’ve had random hot days come out of nowhere?”
“Surely that’s just global warming?”
“Nope. The weather patterns have been totally out of whack.”
I wasn’t convinced. Who belonged to a weather association anyway? Boring! “What else has happened?”
“Weird electrical shortages. Totally unexplained. There was this story in the Middletown Observer about people who’ve randomly had stuff blow up in their homes. And remember that first gig I did at Band Night?”
I turned red again at the memory of that evening. The first time I’d met him. “What about it?”
“Well, the amp blew up out of nowhere, didn’t it?”
“Hmm. I suppose.”
We carried on walking.
“So you didn’t know any of this happened?” Noah asked.
I shook my head. “Nope.”
“So you don’t read the papers?”
“Not at the moment. I’ve got so much stuff to read for my A levels.” I groaned as I remembered my unfinished Psychology coursework.
“What stuff is that?”
“Well, we’ve just finished Romeo and Juliet in English. Ergh. Thank God for that!”
Noah stopped us again and turned to me. “You don’t like Romeo and Juliet?”
“No. Why does everyone think that’s weird?”
“Because you’re a girl. Girls are supposed to adore all that forbidden love stuff.”
“Not me.”
“So you’re not a Twilight fan obsessed with that glittery guy?”
I grimaced. “God, no.”
“You don’t cry over Nicholas Sparks novels?”
“Amanda made me watch The Notebook once but I fell asleep.”
He smiled.
“I just don’t believe in all that stuff.”
“What stuff?”
“You know. True love. Soulmates. Yadda yadda yadda.”
Noah was quiet for a moment. “That’s strange.”
I supposed it was. Although I wondered how my love cynicism fitted into my feelings for him.
It was like he was reading my mind. “So how do you explain your feelings for me then?” he asked, almost nervously.
“What makes you think I have feelings for you?”
“I know you do.”
“You’re so full of it.”
“Poppy, please? Let’s not go there again.”
I thought about his question and sighed. “Okay. I might like you just a little bit.”
“Thank you.”
“But I don’t think we’re meant to be together or anything. That’s just greeting cards, crappy romcom novels and flower industry induced. It’s not real life.”
Noah looked almost sick. “That is the saddest thing I’ve heard anyone say.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Oh no, Shakespeare. Don’t tell me you’re an old romantic?”
“I never used to be.”
We were at my house now and I didn’t want the day to end. The moon had hoisted itself high in the sky, casting white light onto my home, making it look small. The kitchen light was still on, so I steered Noah into the hedge.
“I’m going to change your mind,” Noah said, taking my hand.
“Change my mind about what?”
“About love.”
I rolled my eyes.
“Seriously.”
“And how exactly do you plan to do that? Don’t tell me you’re going to appear below my window with a rose between your teeth singing ‘I Don’t Want to Miss a Thing’ – because I will ring the police… What are you doing?”
Noah pulled his face towards mine and stared deep into my eyes. And I was lost. My heart began its frantic pounding; I stopped breathing. Keeping his hand under my chin, he brought his face close
r until his lips were less than an inch from mine. I could feel his breath on my face and my knees almost buckled. Every atom in my body longed for his lips to touch mine. I waited. I could smell him. He smelled of apples, almost too sweet. Without realizing, I’d slipped my arms around his waist, trying to pull his body as close as possible. Noah brought his face closer – his lips so close now. I closed my eyes and waited for that first luxurious contact…
But, out of nowhere, I felt him draw his head back. My eyes snapped open and he was looking at me with that playful grin again, his head cocked to one side.
“I’ll change your mind, just you wait.”
And then he turned and walked into the darkness, leaving me quaking.
That night I found it impossible not to smile. Like, really smile. One that begins in your core and seeps through every fibre of your body. I pulled my duvet over me and lay on my back, knowing sleep wasn’t going to come any time soon. I was glad for that. It gave me more time to think about Noah.
I was struggling to keep hold of all the things I believed in. I already felt like I was falling in love, or lust – whatever word best described it. It was like my cynicism was the outer shell of a sherbet lemon and I’d sucked on the bitterness for so long, eventually I had to hit a sweet centre. I turned on my front and hugged my pillow underneath me. I was proud of how I’d acted. I had been me, and Noah liked that. I’d also managed to control my misbehaving body for the entire day, which was something of a miracle. Right now, a panic attack seemed a highly unlikely event.
Sleep eventually found me, as usual, when I stopped thinking about it. I dreamed only of Noah: his face, his smile, his touch.
When I woke up I was still smiling.
Of course reality had to hit sometime, and my mother was talented at bringing up unsavoury subjects over breakfast.
As I sat in front of my steaming bowl of porridge, she broke my dopamine-induced haze.
“Have you done your Psychology coursework?”
I choked on my mouthful. Coursework! My good mood instantly evaporated.
“I thought you were doing it yesterday.”
I nodded. “I was. But I got caught up in stuff.” I drained my orange juice to combat the choking.
“Nothing’s more important than your education.”
“I know, I know.”
“And don’t forget you have another appointment with Dr. Ashley tomorrow.”
Any leftover good mood was officially murdered.
“I do?”
“Yes. I booked you another emergency appointment. I heard you crying in your room on Friday.”
I felt awful. No doubt she would think it was something she had done. And, like clockwork, she sat next to me and took my hand.
“I haven’t dared ask but is everything okay, Poppy? Is it something I’ve done?” If I hadn’t felt so heart-plummetingly guilty, I would’ve been annoyed at having to relive this situation again.
“Mum,” I insisted through gritted teeth, “I’m fine.”
“Well, you’re quite obviously not. Have I done anything wrong?”
I decided to tell her the truth. Okay, so it would throw up more problems for her to obsess over, but that was better than her constantly blaming herself.
“If you really have to know, I’ve been upset over a boy.”
She wasn’t expecting that. Boy trouble. She pulled herself back in her chair and actually looked relieved – in fact, she almost looked happy.
“A boy?”
I nodded. Cringed.
“But I thought all boys in Middletown were disgusting?”
“Yeah, well, all but one of them are.” I examined my empty juice glass like it was the most interesting thing I’d ever seen.
Mum was quiet for a moment. “So why has this boy been making you cry?”
She was happy. She could handle this. It was in the normal repertoire of having a teenage daughter. Unlike scraping your child off the floor when she randomly loses consciousness while buying Tampax.
I tried to think of an answer. “I didn’t think he liked me, so I got upset. But now I think he does like me…maybe.” I saw an opportunity. “So you can cancel my appointment with Dr. Ashley tomorrow. Now you know I’m not getting madder and everything.”
She looked at me sternly. “Nice try, but boy or no boy, you’re going.”
“What? But I told you what was wrong!”
“You still need to see him. Anyway, you can’t cancel last-minute. They still charge.”
My stomach sank. So this was where telling the truth got you.
Mum leaned forward in her chair, excited. “So tell me about the boy.”
“No.”
“What? Why not?”
“Because you’re my mum and it’s embarrassing.”
“Am I not cool enough, is that it? Am I not hip enough to do guy talk?” And then, to my horror, she started waving her hands around in the air, trying to do a gangster movement.
“Mum, I’m leaving the kitchen now.”
“Oh, come on. I was only joking.”
“Bye.” I took my empty porridge bowl to the sink and quickly left the room.
“Well, you still need to do your Psychology coursework before you go off canoodling,” she called after me.
“No one uses the word ‘canoodling’ any more, Mum.”
“I don’t care, you still have to do your coursework before you canoodle.”
“Yeah yeah,” I grumbled.
Trying to do any sort of academic activity is apparently impossible if you’re thinking about a boy. I sat staring at my textbook for what seemed like for ever, willing my brain to understand the mumbo jumbo. But my brain was only interested in one thing: Noah. At one point I even closed my eyes and pictured Noah reading to me from the textbook and – to my horror – it helped me concentrate. I managed to write a page or so before it occurred to me he hadn’t called yet. I looked at the clock on my mobile phone. It was 2 p.m. Why hadn’t he called? Had he lost interest already? I shook my head. No. I was not one of those girls. I would NOT obsess over why a boy hadn’t called. I turned my phone off and felt a bit better.
Eventually, I managed to finish my rough draft. I read it back and was surprised to find it wasn’t utter rubbish. Brilliant. I could take it to college tomorrow and shock my Psychology teacher. I looked at my turned-off phone. It was on my desk, taunting me, willing me to turn it on and check my messages. I left it off and walked downstairs with it.
“Cup of tea?” I yelled out.
“Please, love.” My dad’s voice came from the living room.
“Mum?” I yelled, in no particular direction.
“She’s gone to Pilates.”
I turned on the kettle, took out two mugs and dropped a tea bag into each. I tapped my fingers on the worktop as I waited for the water to boil, glancing at my phone every other second. But still, I left it off. After what seemed about a lifetime, the water began bubbling and I made the tea and took both mugs into the living room.
Dad emerged from behind his newspaper. “Cheers, poppet,” he said, relieving me of one mug.
I settled on the couch and took a small sip of my drink. “So what’s going on in the world?”
He shook back his paper. “It’s all kicking off in Middletown actually.”
“Ha ha, very funny.”
“It’s true.”
“Don’t tell me. A local vicar has run away with a lonely housewife?”
“Honestly, Poppy – we don’t live in Desperate Housewives.”
“It feels like we do.”
“Well, if you must know there’s been more freak weather. In fact, there was an electrical storm last night. Lightning actually struck some poor lady’s house. It’s ruined her roof.”
I was confused. “I was up most of last night because I couldn’t sleep. There was no storm. I would’ve heard it.”
“It was over the top part of town.”
“Really? I didn’t hear any thunder.”
Dad took a sip of his drink. “Mmm, good tea. It says in the paper there was no thunder, or rain. That’s what’s so weird about it. There was just a random lightning strike that hit this lady’s house.”
I wasn’t convinced. Insurance scam, I reckoned. Didn’t storm damage count as acts of God though? “Hmm.”
“The Observer is saying there’s been a lot of weird weather going on lately.”
“Yeah, Noah said.”
Dad lowered the page. “Who’s Noah?”
Oops.
“No one. Just some guy.”
“Some guy?”
“Come on, Dad. Leave it. Having Mum interrogate me is bad enough.”
“She told me there was a guy. She almost fainted with excitement. I didn’t know he was called Noah though.”
I fidgeted uncomfortably.
“I’ll leave it, pet. Don’t worry. As long as he treats you well, that’s all I care about.”
“Yeah, yeah.”
“Seriously.”
I drank the rest of my tea as fast as I could, burning my mouth. When my mug was empty enough, I stood up.
“Right, I’m off upstairs.”
Dad didn’t answer. He was too engrossed in the paper.
I’d left it long enough. Proved I didn’t care just enough. I turned on my phone the minute I was out of the living room and impatiently waited for it to load up.
“Come on, come on,” I muttered.
It beeped in my hand. I felt a little sick. One new answerphone message. I punched in 4444 and pushed the phone to my ear.
“You have one new message,” an electronic voice told me.
Yes, yes, I know that already.
“To listen to the message press one…to save the message press two…to delete the message…”
I jabbed the 1 on my mobile and took a breath.
Lizzie’s excited voice echoed tinnily down my ear. “Oi, Poppy – why have you got your phone off? Anyway, I don’t have much credit but I just have to say RING ME. I have gossip. Also I need to know if you’ve done your coursework. You have, haven’t you, you swot? You always hand it in on time. Can I read what you’ve written? Call me or die.” Beep.
The electronic voice started asking me more questions but I hung up.
Why hadn’t he called? I keyed in Lizzie’s number. She answered on the second ring.
