Playing With My Heartstrings

by Chloe Brewster

  I joined in with Tara's beyond-thrilled euphoria, relieved that I was finally going to be reunited with my first and true best friend for the new school year, and jumped into a bear-like hug, wishing to break into a dance in order to display my happy emotions.

  "School is going to be so much better with you," I exclaimed, leaping into motion on the sofa. "As long as I have you as a friend, I'm happy."

  "Glad to have placed that perfect smile of yours back on your face," Tara grinned, pretending to bow majestically.

  "Can you be my fairy godmother?"

  Tara howled, reminding me of a hysterical hyena, albeit much nicer and without an burning appetite. "Yes, yes, Sadie, I'll be your fairy godmother as long as you spill more beans on Luke."

  "I've got a picture on my phone, if that's any better?"

  Clapping her hands as though she'd just woken up to a pile load of presents on Christmas Day, Tara squealed loudly as I shuffled through my many (selfies, to my utter shame) pictures on my phone, eventually finding the one I'd taken of Luke and I together in my bedroom a few days before.

  Happy days.

  **********

  "Hey, Luke, look at those stars - don't they look stunning?" I said, gazing happily at the fabulous display of stars shining in the otherwise black sky, twinkling like glittering diamonds.

  "Yeah, they sure do," Luke agreed, grasping my hand in his.

  Both of us were lazily lying down on an old red checked picnic blanket out in my garden, beside an easy-to-set-up tent that Cassie and I discovered whilst searching for some old DVDs to watch one afternoon; Dad had mowed the razor-short lawn earlier during the afternoon, pulling out the nettles which would have otherwise stung my bare legs. Ouch.

  "This time, our camping experience will be a lot easier," I noted, gesturing towards the darkened outline of my home. "If needs be, we can take the tent into the living room; I doubt Cassie will be staying up late tonight, watching old episodes of The Simpsons, until she starts drawling on the sofa."

  "Nah, I prefer it outside."

  I leant up, a cold gust of wind making my teeth chatter loudly, so I picked up my black cardigan and put it on top of my Garfield-themed pyjamas. The fashion police wouldn't arrest me for that mistake, if they were out on patrol at that time of night.

  "Here, I've got a surprise for you," Luke said, stretching his arms like a newly awaken cat, and crawled over to his backpack, unveiling a box hiding inside.

  "What's that?" I asked, puzzled.

  "Open it."

  Luke handed over the box to my awaiting hands - all of the sudden, I felt as young and innocent as a gleeful child - and I took the lid off, squealing with delight at the wonderful contents lying inside.

  "Luke, they are perfect!" I exclaimed, holding the denim-coloured pair, and touching the soft material. All my life I had been waiting for this special moment to come and, without a hint, it had arrived in a fantastic form.

  "I knew that you had wanted a pair for a long time," Luke admitted, smiling sheepishly. "I asked your mum for your size, so I didn't buy the wrong ones."

  Of course Mum would mesmerize my shoe size; she was the one who was obliged to cleaning my black bowed pumps whenever I trod in sticky bubble gum at school.

  "Thank you, Luke!" I howled, catching him off-guard by embracing him in a half-kiss, half-hug. "Finally I'm part of the club."

  Luke half-smirked, unsure whether to remain graceful or burst into hysterical chuckles. "They're only a pair of shoes, Sadie."

  "Yeah, but a pair of Converse are more special to me than anything, Luke."

  "Anything?" Luke raised his eyebrows.

  "Obviously, you are at the top of the list, though the Converse are pretty high up, too," I corrected, grinning madly.

  At last. All of the pieces had come together: I was fully complete.

  About the Author

  Chloe Brewster is a book-loving teenager, who resides in England. Playing With My Heartstrings is her first published book and nothing brings her greater pleasure than writing – alongside reading – stories. She counts her excessive viewing of fabulously romantic French films and bucket loads of humorous books amongst her inspirations.