We walked towards our class, an ache in my chest at always being that friend. Don't get me wrong—I had loved Ray from the moment I met her in pre-school when she punched a boy in the nose for making me cry. I don't know why she chose to be my best friend, but I wished she weren't so beautiful inside and out. Then I could hate her quite happily. I slid into my seat in class, gazing out of the window. I wished the day would hurry up and end, so I could hide away from the world, if only for a short while.
"Miss Aurelle? Would you please begin reading where we left off yesterday? Page thirty-two, paragraph three." My teacher instructed me, his eyes on mine over the rim of his glasses, studying me with encouragement as he flashed me his Hollywood smile. Most girls would swoon; despite being our teacher, he was youngandhandsome. He was also one of those teachers who wanted to 'bring me out of my shell' by making me speak in front of the whole class, not realizing it killed me a little more every time. I glanced down at my bag and realized I had left my book at home, yet for some reason, I clawed about in my bag, looking for it desperately. I caught Ray sliding her book onto my table with a reassuring smile as I mouthed my thanks to her. I glanced up to see my teacher raising his eyes to the sky before sighing.
"Today, Miss Aurelle."
Oh, Mr. Herbert, you, Sir, are an absolute cretin.
I quickly found the page and inwardly cringed as I began reading along to prompts of 'louder please' from Mr. Herbert. I hoped Karma was paying attention. He deserved a massive bite on the ass for putting me through social hell.
Two
Project Nay
Iloved the walk home from school all year round, but autumn was my favorite season to do it. The leaves had fallen to the ground, creating a natural carpet of swirly burnt orange and honey yellow. The leaves crunched under my trainers, and I breathed in the air that seemed to be guiding me home, promises of hot chocolate, toasted marshmallows, and solitude making me pick up my speed. My house came into view eventually, and I felt the knot in my stomach eased slightly, the comfort of home always soothing my soul. My brother was home, but other than that, the house would be empty, much to my delight. I slung my bag at the foot of the stairs, pulling my feet from their once glitzy prison before shuffling to the kitchen.
"Hey, little sis. How was today? You look tired." My brother looked up from his book, and I noticed he had the window seat that I had been secretly hoping was available. I shrugged as I poured myself a juice, savoring the silence between us. Elijah was amazing at asking questions and becoming distracted, which suited me.
"Dinner is pasta salad, it’s in the fridge if you are hungry," he called after me as I walked away, tugging the elastic from my hair as I headed for the family bathroom.Tell me, is there anything better than a bath with a book? I think not.I stood in front of the mirror, staring at my seventeen-year-old reflection, wondering if I would ever start to look my age. I had dimples, for crying out loud, and no boobs to speak of. My hair hung around my shoulders limply, like it too felt depressed. My eyes, apparently the window to my soul, were gray, and not a spark of life in them. I sighed as I wondered what Bailey Fenton must've thought when he was talking to me today, and I cringed when I critically ran it through my head. I wondered if he knew what it felt like to be almost invisible? I think not. I suppose it wasn't entirely his fault; he didn't get to choose his genes. But he didn't have to sleep with every girl in school, did he?
Urgh. Why am I thinking about him again?
I was pleased to see the bath brimming with hot water and bubbles- I loved the feeling of hot water on my skin; no cold water required, thanks. I sank into the bath, holding my nose as I let the water hide me momentarily from the world. It was like being back in the womb, the silence within the water. I stayed like this as long as I could without drowning myself—the dark line of thoughts that sometimes interrupted my bath hadn't led me to feel suicidal—yet. I was just your average teenager. Just lonelier. I wish I had some dark secret that made me feel the way I do, but sadly not. I don't feel much. You see, I watched life happen to other people, and today had somewhat startled me. If Bailey wanted to join the queue of guys that vied for Ray's attention, he could crack on–as long as he didn't bring me into it.
I stayed completely still in the bath, watching the water become still, only to be disturbed again by my breathing.
See? I'm even annoying the bath water.
The house was silent, and I knew Elijah would be deep within the world his book created, and I was envious. We were both readers, our mother was a librarian and our dad an English teacher at another school, so I suppose it was a given. Luckily, we both loved it. I closed my eyes and felt my body relax.
Just five minutes.
The telephone ringing deep within the house disturbed me from my wet slumber, and I heard Elijah cursing as he looked for it.
"Annabelle. It is for you!" he yelled up the stairs in annoyance.
I groaned, knowing full well it was Ray. I shouted back to tell her I was in the bath when he called back.
"He said he'll wait; it's important."
My eyes pinged open.
He?
I could hear the curiosity in Elijah's voice but knew he had manners that would prevent him from demanding to know who it was and what they wanted, so I grabbed a towel and climbed out of the bath, the phone waiting for me on the floor outside the door. Obviously, I wasn't expecting that, so I stood on it, surprised to see I didn't break it when I picked it up breathlessly.
"Hello?"
"Anna. You are a difficult girl to get hold of. I can't believe you have a house phone. Don't you have a mobile like the rest of the human race?" His amused tone made me go cold.
"Bailey?" I uttered, my voice barely above a whisper. I grabbed my towel tighter around me, as though he could see me as he chuckled.
"The one and only. I'm sorry to interrupt your bath." He sounded sincere enough, but I doubted he cared.
"What do you want?" I knew I was being blunt and probably borderline rude, but I couldn't care less right now. This wasn't the beige halls of the school where I was a prisoner, this was my home, and he was eating into my private time.
"Nice manners."
I was silent. I didn't see the point in communicating further. I asked him what he wanted. So I waited, my hair dripping onto the floor, causing a puddle on the rug. I idly pushed my toe into it, wondering why the hell he was on the phone.
