It wasn’t so much the writing driving him but the effect he hoped it would have. Rachel was his muse and his words would make her fall for him. Not the most modern way of attracting a girlfriend but it was all he had to work with. Every single word he put down was for Rachel.
It hadn’t taken him long to think of a story. He knew he wanted it to be about a vampire, that was a given, considering Rachel’s attachment to Twilight. He knew he couldn’t equal that, but he could write something to get her attention and maybe, just maybe, get her to look at him as more than a friend. If she liked the story, there was a possibility she would like him, respect him and eventually fall in love with him.
Words were powerful things, he knew that. If wielded in the right way they could conquer minds and change lives. All he was asking was to change someone’s heart. That hope was so powerful it had possessed him and given him the stamina to write like a savant and, fingers crossed, ensnare Rachel’s heart.
Clive read and reread every sentence to ensure the story flowed like a mountain stream with clarity and purpose. He was pleased with it but the final test would be tomorrow when he gave it to Rachel.
There would be no waiting for the right moment, no biding his time. He would walk straight up to her with the final draft in his hand and say he had written it for her and her alone. Even better, he would say she had inspired him to write it.
He read the same sentence three times and realised his mind was beginning to drift. It was the first time he’d lost his focus since starting the story. Instead of hearing the words in his head, thoughts about Rachel at Lewis’ party started hijacking his brain.
He wondered what had happened there. Had she fallen for him? Were they now an item? Perhaps she was playing it cool and making him run around after her. He played out all the different scenarios in his head. There was a very strong possibility that Lewis and Rachel were now going out together; or at least on their way there. That would make all this writing utterly pointless. It was an unwelcome thought that jabbed away at his mind. A little voice in his head kept saying: You don’t really think this is going to work do you? He had to ignore it.
Yes, the odds on Lewis and Rachel getting together were high. But if he could get the story to her before that happened, it might be enough to fend off Lewis and make Rachel choose him.
A picture of Lewis and Rachel with their lips stuck together forced its way into Clive’s head. He pushed it out but it flew back in again, so he mentally threw it in a box and imagined it being padlocked and buried deep underground. That would stop it for now but he knew sooner or later it would resurface to torment him. Quick, he thought, distract yourself. There was something else bugging him and he couldn’t think what it was. Then he remembered - his story had no title.
Clive needed to think of something but he could feel his brain slowing down. He was nearly finished, just a bit more editing and he’d be done. The trouble with having the end in sight was it made his mind relax. He didn’t want to think of titles, not after writing twenty thousand words. But it must have a title. It was crucial. Clive yawned; the tiredness coaxed him into its cosy embrace. The thought of switching the computer off and climbing into bed was excruciatingly tempting.
Clive shook himself in an attempt to wake himself up. He looked at the remains of a cup of coffee which hadn’t been hot for three hours. Clive grabbed it and threw it down his throat. It tasted bitter and stewed. He took the mouse of his computer and clicked on iTunes. Maybe some music would keep him awake and dislodge some ideas from his brain.
He scrolled through all his albums but he didn’t feel like listening to any of them. So he clicked on his folder marked odds and sods, which was full of singles and random bits of music that he liked. As he scrolled down the list of titles, he stopped on one that caught his eye - A Love Like Blood by Killing Joke. He liked the title and it sounded perfect for his story. He couldn’t remember the song so he hit play and turned the volume up loud. When the first few lonely chords rang out, it all came back to him. A relentless heavy guitar riff cut through the song like a rusty saw.
As he listened, Clive sat back and afforded himself a little fantasy. He imagined his story being made into a film and turning up at the premiere with Rachel on his arm while flash bulbs went off around them. They would go in and take their seats. The film would start with A Love Like Blood playing over the opening credits.
He could see Rachel looking at him proudly. She was wearing a scarlet dress, her face as pale as chalk. She was stunning. After the movie finished and the applause subsided she kissed him again and again and again. It was all so perfect and he wondered how many other writers sat in front of their computers like this, imagining themselves getting awards or seeing their books turned into movies, with a beautiful partner on their arm.
Clive read through the whole story one more time, changing little bits here and there. When he was satisfied that it read okay, he saved it and turned the computer off. Then he flipped off the light, rolled into bed with all his clothes on and fell straight to sleep.
Clive woke up ten minutes before the alarm was due to go off. He was surprised at how awake he was, considering how he’d spent the previous twenty four hours. But then he was still on a mission and that spurred him on. Writing the story was only half of it. He now had to put it in Rachel’s hands and tell her how he felt. This was definitely going to be the harder part of the task.
He switched on the computer, found the document entitled A Love Like Blood and hit the print button. While the printer spat out the pages, he got washed and dressed. He took the freshly printed manuscript out of the tray, squeezed a staple in the top left hand corner, put the whole thing in a clear plastic sleeve and shoved it into his bag alongside his text books.
He headed downstairs for breakfast. His father had already left for work and his mother was getting ready to do the same.
‘How did your writing go?’ she asked.
‘Fine.’
‘Can I read it?’
‘No.’
Clive stuffed nearly a whole piece of toast in his mouth so he could leave the table without getting into a tricky conversation with his mum. Though he was grateful to her for giving him the idea to write a story, the last thing he wanted to do was get into a discussion about it. Besides, it was far too personal.
He said goodbye and made a swift exit. Grabbing his coat he was out of the house within a few seconds.
As he walked down the road, he remembered he had double English first. That was a good thing because he sat behind Rachel. It was her favourite subject so hopefully it would put her in the right frame of mind. After the lesson it would be break time which meant the classroom would empty out quickly and he could get Rachel on her own. That’s when he’d give her the story and tell her about his feelings for her.
Cassie would be there of course, but he got on with her okay. He’d have a word with her before they went into class and ask if he could speak to Rachel alone. Cassie would understand. Although, knowing her, she’d interrogate him afterwards to find out what it was all about.
Clive thought about the possibility that Rachel could be going out with Lewis. He didn’t want to but he had to. This could all end up making him look like a complete tool. It wouldn’t be the first time. Romancing women was a language he didn’t speak. He was determined this time would be different. He wouldn’t let anything distract him from his goal, but equally he didn’t want to look stupid. If Rachel was going out with Lewis he would need to rethink his strategy. He thought about this as he walked along the road, staring at the people with blank faces sitting in traffic queues on their way to work.
An idea came to him. He would ask Cassie what had happened at the weekend before he did anything. That way he could get the low down on what was going on. Cassie would know the score and would be only too happy tell him everything, leaving no details out. If Lewis hadn’t gotten anywhere with Rachel he would continue with his plan. If they were together he’d have
to work something else out. Biding his time wasn’t something he wanted to do but he might have to if Lewis and Rachel were now a couple.
As Clive walked along the streets of bland houses, he formulated a plan for that as well. He would wait until Lewis slipped up. He had known guys like Lewis before; being good-looking was their strength and it was also their weakness. They stayed with a girl for a while, but sooner or later the temptation of other females would always prove too much for them. They’d make a mistake and get off with someone else. He’d witnessed it loads of times before at school. Hot guys were always breaking the hearts of girls who didn’t know any better. There would be the inevitable argument in the playground between the boy and the spurned girl. She’d always say things like ‘How could you?’ While he pretended to be sorry. Then she would burst into tears and retreat back to the comfort of her girlfriends who would embrace her and shout ‘bastard’ at the offending boy.
Behaviour like that didn’t seem to bother guys like Lewis. Whereas Clive would never do that to a girl. If he was lucky enough to be with someone he liked then he would do everything in his power to make them happy, which was basically his problem. He was too nice. Clive wasn’t naïve; he knew that nice guys finished last and all that. He had even considered trying to be a bad guy once or twice but he wouldn’t do it because it wasn’t in his nature. Plus he thought he’d probably look ridiculous - it just wasn’t him. Anyway, why should he change and be something he wasn’t? Besides he didn’t like that kind of behaviour.
If Rachel had been taken from him, Clive would play the waiting game. Not out of fear this time, but because it was the only option. This would be temporary and when Lewis hurt Rachel or two-timed her, he would be there. The shoulder to cry on. And he’d have his story that he’d written. He could say he wrote it for her to make her feel better.
None of this had happened yet but it was good to know he had a back-up plan just in case.
As he approached the school gates he took a deep breath and thought about what he would say if Rachel was indeed still single. He immediately stopped himself from doing this. No rehearsed lines this time. He would just play it straight and tell her he liked her and had written a story for her. No complicated stuff - just tell it like it is. She would respect him for that and hopefully his words would do the rest.
Clive pushed open the school doors. The pungent smell of cheap disinfectant forced its way up his nostrils. He threaded his way through the mass of uniformed bodies all moving in different directions. The bell went just as he got outside his English class. He popped his head around the corner and saw a few people had already taken their seats, including Rachel. He pulled his head back in, just in time so she didn’t see him. He noticed Cassie wasn’t sitting next to her. That was good; it meant he could wait outside and catch her before she went in.
He tried to control the nerves that were going haywire around his body. For this to work he had to stay cool. He stuck his head around the door again and stole another glimpse of Rachel. He was looking for some indication of her mood.
Usually, girls that had new boyfriends walked around the school looking smug and superior but there was none of that showing on Rachel’s face. He couldn’t imagine her doing that sort of thing anyway. Her face looked its usual sad beautiful self.
The bell rang again to signal the start of lessons but there was still no sign of Cassie. Clive was the only person who hadn’t gone in yet.
‘Are you joining us today, Clive?’ asked Mrs Edmunds the English teacher. She had kind blue eyes and brown basin-shaped hair.
‘Er, yeah,’ said Clive. ‘I was just waiting for Cassie.’
‘She’s ill today.’
Damn it, thought Clive. He paused for a second trying to think of what to do. Now there was no way he could find out about the weekend. He’d have to try and find the information some other way. Clive took a deep breath and walked into the classroom. As he passed Rachel he went for it.
‘Hi Rachel, how are you? Good weekend?’
‘Fine,’ she said in a small voice without looking up.
Something was definitely wrong, but that was a good thing. Now there was a strong possibility the whole thing with Lewis hadn’t gone well. The glummer Rachel was, the better the outlook for Clive
‘What did you get up to?’ asked Clive, trying to tease more out of her.
‘Not much.’
This was the response he had hoped for. Rachel clearly didn’t want to talk and unless someone close to her had just died, he was ninety nine percent sure she’d had a bad weekend. And if she’d had a bad weekend then hopefully Lewis had something to do with it. Clive was still in the running. He sat down behind her and couldn’t help breaking into a massive smile.
‘What are you grinning at, Clive?’ asked Mrs Edmunds.
‘Nothing.’ Clive dropped his smile immediately. Rachel looked around and stared at him, puzzled.
‘Would you like to share it with the class?’ asked Mrs Edmunds.
‘No, no, I’m good,’ said Clive.
‘Okay. Everyone turn to chapter twelve. Clive, seeing as you’re in a good mood would you like to start reading please.’
Clive did as he was told but his mind was elsewhere. Rachel looked like she was in a foul mood. Normally he’d be worried about her and would want to cheer her up, but today was the best Monday morning he’d ever had.
Eventually the bell rang. Like a group of meerkats, everyone jumped up and tried to get out of the class as quickly as possible. As Rachel was about to shuffle out of her desk, Clive seized his chance.
‘Rachel,’ he said.
As she stopped and looked around at him with the full gaze of her rich brown eyes, all Clive’s confidence disappeared faster than air from a popped balloon.
‘What is it?’ she asked.
Clive swallowed hard and told himself to hold it together.
‘I’ve got something for you,’ he managed to say. He pulled out the clear sleeve containing the manuscript and held it up in front of her.
Rachel looked confused. ‘What is it?’ she repeated.
‘It’s something I’ve written.’
‘Okay,’ she said, as if waiting for the next piece of the puzzle.
‘I was wondering if you would read it and tell me what you think.’
‘Sure.’ Rachel took the story out of Clive’s hand, put it her bag, then turned and disappeared from the classroom. And that was that.
He hadn’t said any of the things he wanted to. When the moment had finally come, he had chickened out again and not told her why he’d written it or anything about his feelings. There was that saying about the plans of mice and men going wrong, and today Clive had certainly been a mouse. He had simply sat there, mumbled a few words and let her walk out of the classroom. When he had imagined this moment happening in his head, it all seemed so easy. But reality was a cruel bitch and had never made anything easy for him.
Clive slumped at his desk as if someone had punched him in the stomach. He’d worked all weekend for this and it was over in a matter of seconds, like a damp firework. There was no big event or fanfare, no flashing lights and certainly no girl rushing into his arms. Nothing had changed and he was back to where he was before – nowhere.
Chapter 8
*
Every day since the party, Lewis had become more and more irritable. He felt restless and itchy, like he was supposed to do something but couldn’t figure out what it was. He wanted to get in contact with Rachel to find out what had happened to her and if she was okay. But he had no way of doing that. He hadn’t thought to get her number or her email address. He didn’t even know her second name. There was no starting point for him, it was like trying to find the end of the Sellotape.
He was in uncharted territory. Lewis’ popularity with girls meant he’d never had to ask for a number or an email address, they’d just given it to him. Like a knee-jerk reaction, it would just happen automatically. This was the first time someone h
ad simply walked away from him. He felt rejected and it was horrible. Firstly, because that’s what being rejected feels like and secondly, because it was new experience and he wasn’t used to it. Rachel was turning out to be a learning curve for him and it was getting steeper all the time. At any moment he felt he would slide right back to the bottom again, if he wasn’t there already.
He had to get in touch somehow, otherwise he’d lose his mind. There were no links back to her whatsoever. He looked on Facebook but she wasn’t on it and neither was Cassie. He tried Friends Reunited, Myspace, Twitter, Bebo and even Youtube. Nothing. She was off the grid. A ghost. Had he dreamed her? She was an enigma, and that only made her more attractive and mysterious.
Becoming Edward Page 7
