one

nineteen

Sophie's point of view

I rapped agressively on Maeve's door, willing her to let me in. Her walk seemed soft, almost tentative and I watched her throw her phone on the sofa with unease, her eyes ridden with agitation and pent up emotion. I frowned to myself, Maeve didn't get stressed, or at least unless there was a really good reason to. Even when our whole year seemed to be on the verge of hyperventilation over imminently due English Coursework, Maeve had remained allegedly totally untouched by what was going on, despite completing several people's essays on behalf of them, something I would never really be able to understand. That's the thing I suppose, I'm smart, always have been to some degree, but only because I work hard, listen pretty intently in lessons and do extra credit when I have to. Maeve on the other hand naturally just had beautiful thoughts, so whatever she wrote was next level, whether she had spent an ungodly amount of time planning and then spell-checking it or done it in the five minute break we had between classes.

I snapped myself out of my Maeve thought train, realising she was motioning for me to come inside and shooting me increasingly confused looks as I stared uselessly into space. "Sorry" I muttered, meeting her eyes and immediately going an unflattering shade of bright red, "I got distracted". Maeve gave me an almost giddy look but neglected to add the usual sadistically sarcastic response leaving me even more worried than I had been before. I gritted my teeth and broke the silence between us tentatively as I stepped over the threshold into her living room, "are you okay, because I don't want to assume and I'm sorry if I'm wrong it's just you don't seem yourself". Maeve's eyes seemed to fill with tears for a second and I readied myself to run over and wrap her in a massive hug but then: "I'm fine" she replied, the stress not quite fading from her eyes, "just got something on my mind". I fumbled over my words, blundering but still somewhat hopeful that there might be something I could do to make everything okay again, "well if you need to talk about it, you know I'm here for you right..." I trailed off. Maeve gave me an angry look and spun around abruptly, first aggressively walking through to the kitchen, but then slowing down, she turned, her voice beginning to soften "thanks Sophie".

A smile gently curled at the edge of my lips and I sat down on the sofa, waiting for the almost inevitable cup of tea in the red mug that Maeve would bring me every time I came over to hers. Maeve being not okay, which she clearly was, made me more upset that I had anticipated. In fact it was almost overwhelming how much I just wanted to hug her until the world made sense for both of us again. I sighed, the anxiety returning to my eyes and sank back further into the sofa, grimacing as my arm collided with Maeve's phone. I picked it up, planning to simply move it to the other side of the sofa so Maeve wouldn't sit on it when she came back in but stopped short when I saw the page she had clearly been looking at just before I arrived. The results were clear "you are 80% attracted to members of the same-sex". I froze, totally confused by what I was seeing. Maeve being bisexual or at least not entirely straight wasn't actually that surprising but the idea that Maeve needed a quiz to tell her that seemed a little out of character. Maeve had the potential to be whatever she wanted but what she wasn't, and i knew this for sure, was someone who was indecisive or at least not proud of who they are. I frowned slightly, reading the description.

"Sophie what the hell do you think you're doing with my phone". 

I sat up abruptly, "shit". Maeve walked over to me a smouldering look on her face and grabbed the phone, clearly getting increasingly angry by the second. The thing that seemed to stick with me though was this terror or intense anxiety that shone through in the way she moved. "What did you see" she demanded, eyes frantically searching mine, desperate to know if I knew. I tried to assure her that it was okay, that it didn't matter whether I had seen or not because she was going to be fine either way, no doubt totally unsuccessfully, "Maeve it's okay". She cut through my sentence, her voice like a knife, "get the hell out of my house". 

I stood up, my hands trembling and tried to advance towards her again "Maeve". A tear dripped slowly down her cheek "Sophie please, just go" she said, her voice hollow and tired. 

Somehow the total collapse of any Maeve-ness made her feel suddenly foreign, threatening in a totally different way and I turned to walk towards the door, my eyes slowly starting to fill up with water. Outside I collapsed on the grass outside her caravan, totally numb. I felt like I was drowning: overwhelmingly guilty about what I had done.