Chapter Two
I did regret it.
Every footstep forwards I took in the bitter night, I wanted to take two back. I wanted to be back at the shamefully dilapidated bus shelter awaiting a bus that would take me to nowhere important, but instead I found myself pacing much too closely with a boy I'd never known before this night, down the sombre, raven road, under the patched black and white sheets of sky and stars united.
Why was I so gullible, so senseless? Only I could find myself in a ludicrous situation like this in the space of a few hours. And yet, and I almost wanted to laugh aloud despite myself for thinking this, there was an indescribable pull, a resolute magnetic attraction that kept me close to this stranger, this stranger who could hurt or even kill me at any second. I didn't find myself attracted to him in a conventional way, romantically linked. I only knew I wanted, or more so needed, to stay in close proximity. I felt idiotic and needy.
His smooth whisper in the night rescued me from my sea of thoughts.
'Are you okay? You look a bit... troubled. Everything alright up there?'
He patted the top of my head gently, as though we were holding a light-hearted conversation between old friends.
I considered his question. I ought to be the one laden with queries here. Perhaps he was waiting for me to thrust my questions at him right now? I couldn't even deduce a single one, so I heard myself asking the obvious.
'What's your name?'
'You already asked that. Colden. Unusual, but you'll get used to it.'
That comment came unexpected and my breath caught in my throat with a shot of momentary surprise. I coughed it away.
'Will I? Oh... okay. Well, how old are you? I'm pretty sure I've not asked you that yet. Shame on me if I have.'
Colden actually laughed, a faint, amused smile tracing his lips.
'I'm eighteen. Just. Being 18 is supposed to open so many doors in life, but I find it to be quite the same, if I'm being honest, which I'm not always. But I am tonight.'
I raised an eyebrow. 'So you're not always honest?'
'If we're playing Twenty Questions here, pick some better questions.'
'Fine. Where are we going, why do you need me here, am I going to die tonight, and can we stop off for food soon, I swear there's a couple of café's round here that are open all night and I'd rather not perish with an empty stomach.'
Colden answered every question in one swift sentence.
'You'll find out soon enough, because I'm lonely, hopefully not, and you have half a burger in that bag of yours.'
'Oh... yeah. How the hell did you know that?'
'I can smell it. I haven't eaten since this morning. Or yesterday morning if you want to get technical. I'm practically feeding off of scent right now. And the scent is good.'
'How do you know it's only half a burger though? And you can have it if you're so hungry, I can wait.'
'It doesn't matter, we'll be close to food soon enough. But thanks.'
I couldn't help but notice he left my question unanswered. I kept it that way, for now.
'Do you really need me here because you're lonely?'
'No. But it made you feel good for a moment, right?'
'Sort of. I don't know why I should feel happy that a stranger wants me to walk with him so as to keep him from being devoured by loneliness though. Sounds more like a punishment to me.'
'You read a lot of books. I can tell.'
'Possibly. So why am I here then?'
Suddenly, a breeze, a thread of salt evident in the wind. I couldn't explain it. There was no sea around here. I'd never tasted the flicker of salt in the air before.
And then I realised where we were.
'The train station? You can't catch a train now, it's almost 4 o'clock in the morning!'
'We're not catching a train. I'm sorry to disappoint you, but this isn't Harry Potter, and we're not about to go to platform 9 and three quarters, jump on a scarlet steam engine and arrive at a castle filled to the brim with whack-job wizards.'
'That's a shame. I'd love to be whisked off to Hogwarts and learn to be a witch. Then maybe I can apparate myself out of this hell hole of a world. And wizards aren't whack-jobs, by the way.'
'You really are a jolly soul, aren't you? Anyway, I believe the café here stays open all night, right? Wanna grab some breakfast?'
'Are you from around here, Colden?'
'I'll pay for breakfast.'
*
The café was almost empty apart from a man settled in the corner with a mug of steamy tea and what looked like a couple of buttery toast slices. He was sporting a very refined black suit and by his chair rested a neat black briefcase. He appeared very much a businessman, waiting for the earliest train to rattle him away to London, or somewhere equally vibrant with men attending formal meetings. However, when he turned to regard me, his face was alarmingly young, barely older than mine, and he looked quite out of place in the suit.
He returned back to his newspaper and nibbled on a piece of toast as Colden and I approached the counter.
'Can I have a chocolate muffin and a tea, please?'
The lady at the counter seemed hardly to register Colden's order, nonetheless she nodded curtly and her steely grey eyes found my chocolate ones.
'Could I have two butter croissants, please? The small ones. And a regular coffee.'
'We're out of croissants and coffee. Pick something else, yeah.' She rolled her eyes in aggravation and her fingers tapped the counter repeatedly.
Colden's brown eyes flared with affliction as he stared at the rude woman.
'Do you have to be so rude? We know you're ugly but no need to take it out on her, she didn't ask to look like a model while you look like a monkey's butt on a bad day.' His face was growing crimson in anger. The woman looked ready to punch him with a giant, fat fist.
'Colden, stop it, relax! I'll just... I'll have a chocolate muffin, too. And a tea, please. Bit much for me at this time in a morning, but I'm so hungry right now.'
The woman seemed hesitant to serve us after Colden's outburst, but in the end she whipped up our orders at a deliberately leisurely pace.
The young businessman had finished his tea, toast and newspaper by the time we carried our breakfast to a table. Colden nodded at him cordially as he passed us, which the man returned before leaving the café.
'Look, I'm sorry about that just then. I... I'm quick to anger, sometimes.'
'I noticed. Forget it. Just eat your muffin.'
'People don't treat their customers like that, not where I come from.'
'Where do you come from? I want to know. Please?'
'You're so impatient, Adalyn. All in good time.'
'But I just-'. Wait a minute. My head. It was screaming quietly. Was that possible? 'How... I never told you my name, I just realised. How do you know my name?' My voice was thickening with a desire to seek some truth from this boy. I didn't quite believe he was being fully honest tonight, despite what he told me earlier.
'Shall we eat these muffins outside? And I'm sure we can take the teas with us, they're just Styrofoam cups. I don't much like the atmosphere in here.'
'I want to know, Colden. Stop avoiding truth.'
'Come on, off we trot,' and he rushed with his tea and muffin out of the café before my mind could construct something to say. I stared at him as he hastened, then turned to the grey-haired, grey-eyed, hawk-faced woman at the counter.
I grabbed my tea and muffin and followed Colden from the café as quickly as I could.
*
We sat on a cold bench beside a train track. The sky, I noticed, was beginning to drain of its ink. Morning was approaching.
Our breath was rising in wisps, small, glittering clouds in the dark. We finished our breakfast, and I looked at Colden directly. I saw someone I knew, recognised, familiar in some way I couldn't fathom. It was a peculiar feeling that made my stomach squirm a little. I looked away. It was a loathsome feeling, when you recognised someone yet could not apprehend their face.
'You know the trains don't start running until 6, right? We've got about an hour and a half to wait,' I whispered.
'We're not waiting for a train. We're waiting for Alex.'
*
Alex turned out to be somebody I did not expect.
He ambled from the train station's entrance and collapsed on the cold bench in between myself and Colden. His briefcase lay at his polished shoes.
'You! The man from the café. Well, I'd hardly call you a man. A boy, perhaps. You look about 17.'
'That's because I am.'
'I don't get it.'
'It means I've been existing in the world for 17 consecutive years. It's quite simple logic, I'm surprised you haven't figured it out yet. You must have trouble on birthdays, not knowing how old you are. Do you even know when your birthday is?'
'Are you related to Colden or is everyone this sarcastic where you two come from?'
'Hey, don't you go bringing me into this,' chimed Colden.
'I'm sorry,' Alex said, his voice softer now. 'What don't you get?'
'A lot of things. I don't get why I'm sat here at half four in the morning with two complete strangers. I don't get why one of them is dressed in a suit and carrying a briefcase. I don't get why Colden knows things he shouldn't and he wont tell me how he knows them. I don't get why my dad had to be a fool. Because if he wasn't, I'd be warm in bed right now, dreaming, fast asleep. Not... not here. I don't want to be here. I want to go home. I'm going home right now, in fact. It was nice meeting you both. Thanks for buying me breakfast, Colden. Bye.'
I knew it was pathetic even as I said it. I didn't even move from where I stood. I simply stared at the two boys on the bench who sat looking both amused and concerned. I burst into tears.
'I'm rubbish when it comes to dealing with girls,' Alex muttered almost inaudibly.
He raised himself from the bench but merely hung back as Colden wrapped me in a friendly hug and I sobbed like a little girl into his shoulder. I could feel his cold skin beneath the thin sleeve of his shirt.
'Aren't you freezing, Colden, with just that shirt on? You need a coat,' I managed to mumble as the tears reduced.
'Pfft, forget about me. It's not too cold, anyway.' He patted the top of my reckless auburn hair. 'Your hair, eh? It's wild. Are you okay?'
'Yeah, I'm sorry. I'm just... a lot is going off in my head right now. This feels like a dream.'
'Well, it's not.'
'Figures.' I regarded Alex, who looked uncomfortable, nervous even. 'Why are you wearing that suit?'
'This thing?' He pulled at his jacket. 'I like to feel important when I'm on a mission. I might over-exaggerate. At least I dress for the weather, unlike Colden here.'
Colden rolled his eyes.
'Excuse me, mission?' I actually wanted to let free a chuckle. I was slowly but surely becoming insane. It felt shockingly gratifying.
Alex piped up again, looking significantly more relaxed now. I wasn't surprised when he ignored my question. It was orthodox at this point.
'Are we gonna get going then? We need to get there before 7 yesterday morning. That gives us a couple of hours.'
'Yesterday morning?'
'That's what I said.'
'And where exactly do we need to get to before 7 yesterday morning?'
'It's mine and Colden's job to get you there. You're best not asking too many questions until then, you know. We can't really answer any of them so there's seldom any point in it. Let's get going then.'
And the three of us left at the opposite end of the station, climbed a steep, mossy hill that was stripped yellow, pink and blue due to the silent battle of morning and night up in the sky, and began our journey to wherever it was we were going.
*
It rapidly grew tedious, marching through sun-stripped forests and climbing up unmercifully muddy hills.
'If you would only have told me we'd be doing all this walking and climbing, I would have asked that foul woman in the café for a bottle of coke.'
'I never thought about that,' Colden rendered. 'Though I'm more of a cream soda person myself.'
'I'm going to pass out in a second. I need water.'
'You don't need to worry about that, Adalyn,' Alex announced. 'We're about to hit Strawberry Waters.'
'What?'
'Sorry if you don't like strawberry water, but Apple, Orange and Citrus Waters are South, East and West of the country. Strawberry Waters is North, where we are. So that's what where we're nearing now. Personally, I'm glad we've got Strawberry Waters. Last time, I had it go through Apple Waters. Tasted great but looked like pee. Frightful, it was. Put me way off drinking it. But Strawberry Waters looks great.'
'I have absolutely no idea what you're going on about.'
'I know. It's funny. You will soon though. Keep walking.'
'Soon' was earlier than I had assumed. Strawberry Waters was the most sublime, radiantly glorious place I had ever seen with my own eyes. It stepped beyond generic. Way beyond generic.
A stream of deep pink water, the sound of it soothing forwards deliciously peaceful. Scattered here and there were lily pads, a few with beautiful white lilies blossoming from them, radiating a delicate light.
There were rocks and pebbles that sat lazily beside the stream on the grass, which was also pale pink and dancing ever so slightly in the inconspicuous breeze.
A cluster of trees left, right and beyond the stream. Trees everywhere, leaving only small cracks for the rays of a sun that had just awoken to shine its weak rays through. Their petals pale and blushing pinks, salmons, rose reds, corals, even golds. Also swaying faintly in a breeze I could scarcely feel. It felt considerably warmer here. Some of the petals fell in slow motion to the grass or onto the stream.
As morning was upon us now, there was little blue left in the sky, which was now a brilliant gold and pale pink that gleamed and glistened on the stream's surface.
I wanted to take off my jacket and stuff it into my bag, but there wasn't enough room. It occurred to me that this was probably why Colden hadn't brought a coat or jacket with him – he knew we would be coming here. He'd obviously been here before, both of them had.
The sound of Alex's low voice dragged me wistfully back into reality. Well, some kind of reality. Nothing felt real anymore.
'We swim through it. Well, the stream's current makes swimming unnecessary. Just lie back in the fruity water, enjoy the sights and relax. We all need to keep a look out for green grass. The grass stays pink for a while, but at one point it quickly jumps from pink back to green. At that point, get yourself out of the water, and fast, otherwise the current will sweep you all the way to a very large waterfall which you wont survive should you find yourself in it.'
I stared incredulously at Alex.
'Glad we've got that out the way. Let's jump in, then.'
The water was cold at first. Bittersweet, however, as I drank some of the water with the two boys as we floated on down the stream. It tasted like strawberry juice. Cooling to my throat, my dehydrated body. It tasted like a heavenly liquid. I lie back on the water, Colden a little behind me and Alex ahead of us both.
The water seemed to grow warmer the farther we floated, to the point it felt like I was lying on a warm, sandy beach. It was luxurious. The scents of roses, pine, and for some reason, sugar. Several petals collapsed onto my hair and stomach. Dragonflies and butterflies, flapping their glittering wings. I could have drifted off into an everlasting sleep right there. Apparently, so could the boys.
Alex cursed.
'Guys! Guys, wake the hell up! Jump out, to your left, NOW!'
All at once there was a clash of splashing water as the three of us scrambled onto the green embankment moments before we would have been swept away to our deaths.
'Now that was a close one,' laughed Colden.
We were sopping wet, pink pearls running down our faces. Admittedly, it was a rather comedic sight. We raised ourselves into standing positions, and Alex and Colden began walking forwards, off towards more grass that eventually came to a halt at yet another horribly steep hill.
'Wait, I need to take a picture of this place with my phone. I never, ever want to forget it.'
'Er, Addy-' Colden began.
'Please, I want to.'
I snapped a perfectly angled picture with my phone. I waited a few apprehensive seconds as it saved and loaded, desperate to see it. I yelled in astonishment.
The picture looked not a thing like what I was seeing with my own eyes. The stream was blue, not pink. The surface wasn't coloured with dazzling light, just a faint white glow. The lily pads remained, though they didn't radiate light. The dragonflies and butterflies ceased to exist in the picture. The trees were not concealed with blankets of gold, pink and red petals. Instead, they were bare, naked. Just branches. Trees that looked like a tree would look in Winter. But then, I thought, it was Winter. It was almost like everything I was seeing was a lie, or even imaginary, and that the picture on my phone was the only thing depicting any truth around here.
I turned to the boys.
'Why?'
'I told you it's best not to ask questions, we can't answer them,' Alex reminded, and they began walking again. With one more glance back at the wondrous Strawberry Waters, I ran to catch up with their quick pace, still completely with my puzzled thoughts.
*
We were almost to the top of that horribly steep hill. I could taste that thread of salt in the air again. I knew why the second I reached the surface of the hill.
An ocean. A palette of rich, glimmering, burning colours, so profusely effulgent it caused my eyes to ache as I squinted at it. A dance of deep golds from the premature sun rising, warm yellows, a thin blanket of the palest pink, laced with a creamy white from the disappearing stars above. I felt considerably humble and useless as I stood atop the grassy hill, staring at it as though it were a person that deserved countless respect and reverence.
I could also spot the waterfall, the one the stream lead to, pink water gushing quite elegantly down the cliff and splashing like a war amongst water into the ocean. The boys had been quite right – we'd never have survived the sheer force.
There was a much stronger breeze at the top of the hill. My long, fiery hair was licking the air from every angle and direction as it thrashed ferociously in the vigorous winds.
'You see it? The ocean?' Alex was looking at me curiously as he spoke. They both were.
'Of course I see it, I'm not blind. Do we... are we swimming across it?'
'We're not swimming across it. We're swimming down it.'
This is going to be a fantasy genre story. They'll be five main characters, or a quintet if you will. We meet three in this chapter; Adalyn [the main character], Shay and Colden.
I admit the chapter is somewhat dull and an overload of description. The first chapter is a key for setting tones on characters, backgrounds etc etc. So it's half like an introduction chapter with less action than I would like in your average chapter. But you needed to know Addy's background & I like to help you create visions of characters with my descriptions.
I'm no J.K Rowling, so sorry about that. Just try your best to get through it. Constructive criticism is welcomed.
Chapter One
I lived on Bakerwell road, which was basically a lengthy line of desolate brick houses joined together, facing a slim road and further dull brick homes opposite. The road was worn and grey and only one line of cars could drive on it at a time, making weekday mornings a melancholy form of entertainment for me. Venturing down the road, on my way to school, watching the generic little people inside their generic little cars, pretending to ooze with a courteous manner as they waited for the car before them to trundle down the road before they could squeeze behind it. All they really wanted to do was yell at the other drivers to hurry the hell up so they wont be late for work. But that was concealed for the sake of an easy life. Who needs drama at 8:00am?
It didn't bother me at all though. I had my iPod, my mind and my legs that moved without my consent to occupy me as I journeyed to school.
It was a fresh Autumn morning. One of the last, in fact. There were only three days left of November, before December took lead role and we danced our way through our generic lives in flurries of snow, vigorous winds like whips of ice, carpets of white. It also happened to be my 16th birthday on the very first day of December. I was hardly exploding with excitement, but it was something to look forward to nonetheless.
As of now, however, I was pacing through a blanket of crispy leaves, dry, brittle and burned. Oranges, browns, reds, golds, yellows, like a hopeless fire failing to scorch your feet. There was a wind, more like a breeze, chilly but resilient, and a pale sun smiled, poking behind a candy floss cloud, looking tired but trying its best to glow bright.
I had eyes the colour of chocolate, and long, auburn hair that halted at my lower back, a sea of dark fire, thick, wavy and almost feral. Pale skin with a flatteringly smooth complexion – the only thing I really liked about my appearance was my skin. My nose and upper cheeks were sprinkled with faint auburn freckles.
My mother used to call them faerie footsteps when I was little.
'That's where the faerie's walk gently over your face at night while they're busy making you even more beautiful then you were the day before, until one day you're so beautiful you'll be the queen of all the faeries'. I really believed it, too. She made me feel like I could take on anything, be anything, do anything. The day she died was the day all my dreams and hopes died, too.
I lost my mother to suicide. Bills, my hot-headed father, the death of my little brother (who perished in a house fire we had years ago) – it all mounted into a staircase, every step she took leading her further to the edge. And one day, she made it there. She reached that last step and plummeted to nothingness. Suffice to say there was no will, I'd like to say she killed herself on a crazy impulse and didn't bear to think of what would happen to her husband and her daughter. I want to be angry at her, scream at her invisible spirit watching me always, but I just can't find it in me.
So my father and I continued on the land of the living, if you could call it that. We'd never had money, never been on holiday – I'd always wanted to walk on a beach, feel it running beneath my feet, sliding between my toes, blue oceans and burning suns. I was determined to go on a holiday – even if it took me until I was 90, and the beach instead became my death bed.
I resented myself for thinking about the past these days. I had already set myself personal rules. Don't touch upon the past anymore. Think ahead. Think about life after school. Becoming 18-years-old and having freedom handed to me in the form of lights, sun, laughter, atmosphere, exploration, dreams. Maybe then I could actually be myself again. Once I'd left my own generic fairytale, where I was too busy to even feel sorry for myself, where everything was desaturated, black and white like an old picture.
Every morning on my way to school, I'd meet my best and only friend, Shayla. She lived on the corner of Marristone Crescent, a particularly enviable estate boasting a host of grand houses, spacious and well-decorated, with back gardens bigger than my entire house, presenting neat flower-beds and well-kept hedges, water fountains and benches. Visiting Shayla's house was like visiting a different world. I never invited Shayla to my house, despite her numerous expressions of desire to see it. It looked worse than her attic, which they used to store old and broken furniture and boxes of memories in the form of photos. It smelled like mould and looked like it could do with a good, hard clean. My house, I mean - not Shayla's attic.
Shayla appeared quite the opposite to me. I was the fire and she was the ice, what with her head of silky blonde curls and those silver-blue eyes. She was undeniably gorgeous, possessing model cheekbones and long legs every girl in the world would swap their own for. Yet Shayla took it all in her stride, which was why I loved her – she didn't feel the world was over if she broke a nail or a hair found itself out of place, and merely laughed at the girls who found those sorts of things 'tragedies'.
Those girls, the 'popular' ones, they hated me, eyes alive with flickering distaste as they traced the outline my reckless hair. I was much too quiet, much too in my own world to lavish them with compliments and suck up to them like they were simply the most brilliant, astonishing things to walk the planet. Maybe if I did, they'd embrace me in a hug that would smell strongly like designer perfume and mould me into one of them. All because my best friend was Shayla, and Shay was in her own league of amazing that even the popular girls would lap up in a second.
Shay simply wasn't interested in being popular, materialistic and without layers. Shay was full of layers. That left the popular girls unable to decide whether they loved or loathed her, and often switched between both.
I pulled out my earphones and stashed my iPod into my bag as I reached the corner of the crescent.
'Hello, missus', Shay greeted with a white-toothed grin. She was perched on the front garden wall where she waited for me. Her 11-year-old brother Mason jumped down from the wall as soon as he caught sight of me.
'Hey, Adalyn' he smiled, as usual looking out of breath, as though he'd just ran to school and back again.
'Hi Mason. Walking with us today, then?'
'Unfortunately,' replied Shay, hopping from the wall and stuffing her iPod into her bag. 'Just don't talk about something boring like you normally do, Mason, and we'll be swell. No one wants to hear about cars or carpet fibres. Let's talk about ice cream flavours or Christmas. Or better yet, let's plan the awesome bunch of stuff we should do for you birthday, Addy!'
'Erm, excuse me, but when do I talk about carpet fibres?'
'You may as well do when you're talking to me, Mason, seeing as I completely switch off every time you open your mouth.'
'I have nothing to say to that. I have a lovely sister.'
'Yes you do. Thank you. Anyway. Addy? Birthday? Plans?'
She looked at me, her eyes round and swimming with excitement. She knew full well I'd made no plans for my birthday. Parties and fancy occasions didn't really appeal to me. Shay was my personal party planner. She'd never let my birthday pass by unappreciated. Sometimes I couldn't work out whether this was a good thing or not.
We left Marristone Crescent and walked up a short hill onto the main road.
'Erm... Shay. Why are you even asking? Shay, please, no parties this time. I don't even have any friends to turn up. It's not really a party when it's my best friend's family as the guests. I know you're trying to do good, but I really think I just want you, me, pizza and ice cream and a couple of good films for my birthday. Is that okay?'
Shay was not offended. I never expected her to be.
'That sounds like a plan to me. I love it. Let's do that. You choose a film and I choose a film?'
'Sure', I nodded.
Mason scoffed. 'I'm guessing I'm not eligible for film choosing?'
'Bingo', Shay replied. 'I need chocolate.'
We stopped off at the sweet shop before continuing our spirited walk up to school. This was the only time I let a smile plaster my face and laughter escape me. One look at the school building dulled my thoughts and punched me in the stomach with credible force.
The only people who talked to me at school were Shay, Mason and his two best friends Michael and Sean. Shayla once told me the three of them secretly held a fan club for me during morning break, where the trio would stare at pictures of me that Mason stole from Shay's room. I didn't know whether to feel flattered or absolutely terrified. Shayla found the whole thing highly amusing.
The school was uncomfortably warm and crowded. Mason bid his goodbyes at the school crossroads and pushed and shoved his way to his tutor classroom. Shay and I battled our way up the central staircase and onto the second floor. Whoever had built this school, about 80 years ago, was incredibly stupid. The corridors were ludicrously modest for a school that had always taught about 1,500 children. It was quite impossible to make your way to a classroom without banging you shoulder into someone else's, or having someone stand painfully on your toes.
Inside our tutor classroom, half the students were already lounging on the tables or sat on chairs. Chatting and laughing obnoxiously loud were the popular boys and girls. A couple of them were making out in a corner of the classroom, while two air-headed girls painted each other's nails in lurid pinks. A few students were settled with books, study books or fictional. Some were fiddling with their over-the-top fancy phones.
We settled in our seats at the front of the classroom. As usual, Jessica Sumner, head popular girl, and two of her robots, made their way confidently to our desk. Today they were in the 'we love Shay' mood. Admittedly considerably more pleasant than their 'we hate Shay' mood.
'Hey Shay! And Adalyn... loving your hair today, by the way, Addy. It's a good look on you.'
I stared at Shay. It was the same as it was every day of my life.
'Err....'
'You're welcome! See you two at lunch, yeah?'
Shay couldn't help herself. 'I'd rather see my own puke at lunch, and if I have to listen to you for one more second, I'll be seeing my own puke in about 30 seconds too.'
Jessica frowned.
'Oh, Shay. You're... you're a funny one. I almost want to laugh. Whatever. We're grabbing lunch up at Harper Street if you wanna come, anyway. Probably going into the chippy.'
Shay pressed her hands to her stomach and grimaced.
'Yep, yep, can feel breakfast coming up right now... 15 seconds... 14... 13....you might want to stand back, Jessica...'
At that moment, the tutor waltzed in, and Jessica and her robots scurried off to sit back down.
It turned out that Jessica took the insult hard, and was less than pleasant throughout the rest of the day. I was more than acquainted to being called names and laughed at, though I wished I could take it as lightly as Shay did. I supposed when you had a life like she did, with a perfect family in a perfect home with no dead parents or siblings, it's easier to laugh at people as pathetic as Jessica Sumner and her fried peroxide hair. However, I tended to let Shay do most of the arguing, and kept myself to myself throughout each lesson. The final bell of the day signalling time to leave school was like a celestial chorus of the highest angels. I collected my things, chucked it in my bag, and almost skipped with Shay out of the building and all the way home.
My light mood drained as I hugged Shay goodbye and made my own way home. With each song my iPod chose to play, I felt heavier and heavier, like someone had a made a hole in my stomach and filled it with steely cement. I was barley listening to the lyrics each artist uttered. They seemed insignificant. Usually, I would absorb a song's clarity like a mop to a floor. Today, or rather, once Shay had left my side and I made my way home alone, I felt light-headed yet heavy in my stomach, like I was carrying a seven-course meal in there without showing the weight, bizarre, an indescribable, unenviable feeling. I hated home, I knew that. But I was used to it. Why I was feeling so abnormal and dizzy was beyond me.
*
Dad was sprawled out on the sofa, asleep. The coffee table was hidden beneath a congregation of empty and broken glass bottles that once held litres of beer. He had a half-empty beer bottle in his right hand that rested upon his stomach, mouth open, a faint grunt of a snore erupting from his mouth every other second. The TV was shrieking a football match at intolerable volume. I ran to switch it off, snatched the bottle from my father's lax hand and slapped him across the face. He barely registered the movement.
Tears made their escape, pearl boats floating down an ashen face, painted with horror and disappointment.
'Dad!'
'What?', a muffled voice faintly uttered.
'How could you? Why aren't you at work? You drank all this today? Tell me!'
He looked like all he wanted was for me to melt into the floor, die like my mother and my brother, so he and his beer could be alone together, happy together, and he could sleep in peace and without interruption.
'I... I don't have work today...', came the inaudible, indifferent grunt.
'Yes, you do. I know you do... you... you haven't been going to work, have you? Have you?!'
The increase in the volume of my voice forced dad to look directly at me. He rolled his eyes as though this was a joke. 'I got fired weeks ago. I've been going to the pub instead of work.'
'You... no. No way.'
'Can I go to sleep now?'
He took a swig of beer and subsequently began snoring rhythmically. I gazed at him, unsure. I spun, then bounded up the stairs, grabbed a bag, and stuffed it to the brim with clothes, a toothbrush, makeup and a couple of books. And then ran from the house, and unbeknownst to me, I would never return to it.
*
Hunger was tearing at my insides by the time I reached the city centre. I'd brought £10 with me. Enough to buy a burger at McDonalds, at least. Though as I sat inside and swallowed each bite, that heavy, dizzy feeling came rushing back. I nestled the rest of the burger tightly in its greasy wrapper to consume later.
It was getting late, the sky appeared to have a bottle of midnight ink spilled across it, without a flicker of a star. The air was penetratingly icy tonight. I shivered as I found an empty bus shelter and pulled out a musty, useless sheet to curl up in on the floor. It actually smelled strongly like stale beer. I ultimately found myself rolling it back up and sleeping without any blanket. My coat was a poor insulator. I lie there, wet with tears, shivering uncontrollably from the cold and from the pain of crying. The trains rumbling away at the train station down the road was the last thing I heard. The layers of inky black, the starless sky, was the last thing I saw, before I finally fell away into a dreamless sleep.
*
Diamonds, a hundred or so, glittering, blinding.
The sky was choked with white stars. There had been none when I'd drifted to sleep. I almost wanted to tell myself it was the faerie footsteps leaving their speckles on the sheets of pure black. My eyelids closed.
'Don't you dare go back to sleep, I've waited ages in this bitter weather for you to wake up.'
'Holy-'
I jumped up, too alarmed to divulge a scream.
A boy, 16 or 17-years-old, shockingly handsome but frowning in a way that distorted his features against the light of the stars. I could tell his hair was a dark brown. His eyes sparkled. He was shivering softly. He was wearing a t-shirt and jeans in late November. Absent of a coat.
I finally found my voice, though it was ragged and weak.
'Are you crazy?'
'Depends what angle you look at me from. Who actually cares, though?' He was looking at the stars.
'What's your name?'
'Again, who actually cares? It's Colden. But I digress'. He looked at me. 'You need to follow me.'
'Erm... I don't think that's going to happen, sorry. If you're wanting a bus, it's 3 in the morning. You'll be waiting a while, they don't start running until 6.'
'You think I want a bus? Ha! No thanks. I'm going now. I just wondered if you wanted to come with me, is all'.
'Well... that's... uh, flattering. But I'm already on my own adventure. Thanks though.'
'I'd hardly call it an adventure, what you're doing. But it's fun to pretend.'
'Right.'
'Look. Are you coming or not?'
I looked at him. His eyes were saying something, but I was unable to receive the message. I sighed. I couldn't really comprehend the situation. Half of my head was still asleep.
'No.'
'Fine then. Enjoy your night.' He gazed pitifully at the bus shelter, destroyed with incandescent graffiti scribblings and cracked windows that sparkled shyly in the starlight. He then turned swiftly and began to vanish into the hardness of the dark.
I knew I would regret this.
'Wait!'
He spun to face me, little more than eyes floating in ink. 'Yeah?'
'I'm... I've changed my mind. I'm coming with you. My bus doesn't get here for another 5 hours, and I'll never fall back to sleep now.'
