Reece

Ten

Ever since the first day of Sixth Form, someone- or rather, Reece- has been slipping notes into my locker. Some days they are filled with song lyrics and on other days I’d get some with movie quotes. Some have lines of poetry scrawled on them. Every now and then I’d get a random hand drawn picture. Each note was written or created with me in mind. I’d always thought it was Dylan, because only he knew that much about me. Like, on Monday I would mention a new song I had discovered and by the next day there’d be a note with the lyrics on it. Or if I’d seen a film and happened to talk about it in passing, there’d be a quote from that film written on the corner of a slip of paper in my locker.

The notes had always made me smile; knowing that someone took the time to really listen to what I said made me feel special. For years I had thought that Dylan was the one behind them seeing as he’s the one who knew the best, but hearing that it was actually Reece sent my head spinning.

I get to my feet rather shakily and head for the door, pausing briefly when I hear Erin ask where I’m going.

“I need some air,” I mumble before practically running from the room.

The fresh winter air greets me like an old friend, and I can’t get enough of breathing in the sharp oxygen. I inhale deeply and hold my breath, letting the air flow around my body before I exhale slowly. I repeat the motion a few more times before I find myself calm enough to think coherently.

I lead against the railings that encircle the patio, my elbows resting against the frozen wood. An involuntary shiver ran down my spine and I couldn’t contain the tremor that shook my body. I sigh deeply and shake my head, my hair tumbling into my eyes. When I move my hand to brush the strands away I feel slight moisture leaking from my eyes.

When had I started crying? And more importantly- why was I crying?

“Damn it,” I sigh to myself. “Get it together, Cady.”

The news that it was Reece behind some of the most significant things in my life was hard to believe. I mean, he hated me. How could someone who picked arguments with you day in, day out for years on end actually love you?

I think back to all the notes that had found their way into my locker. Some of those must have been written or produced when we were in the midst of an all-out war, and yet Reece still had it in him to give them to me. Last year, the day before my birthday we’d had a full on blazing row about something insignificant, but there was still a huge colourful rainbow of balloons at my locker with the first clue to a treasure hunt tied to them. Reece had done all of that for me when he, by rights, should have been furious with me.

“Maybe he’s insane,” I reason with myself. “It would explain a lot.”

Or would it?

Reece, despite being antagonistic most of the time, had always looked out for me.

When Harley Marsden spread those rumours about me, it wasn’t Dylan who pinned him to the ground and punched him half way to Sunday. No, that had been Reece.

The day Lydia Jacobs ‘accidentally’ spilt coffee down the front of my uniform back in Year 11, it was Reece who took the time to come and find me, and then gave me his rugby uniform to wear until I got home.

And it was Reece who didn’t want to see me hurt this evening. He had looked so furious with his brother that I had to wonder why Reece had even bothered to take my side. Now it made sense.

The biggest question, however, was the one I just couldn’t answer.

Could I possibly love Reece Nicholls?