Bookish London

Chapter 3 - Liz

I walk away from him with my head high and my pride a little stronger, though there’s this feeling in my stomach, like somebody has my guts in hand and is squashing them hard…but it’s not only that. It’s like a dizziness that starts in my head and goes down to my stomach and closes my throat. I can’t feel the air around me…I need to breathe…
Why is this happening? I never had a panic attack! Not since…not since Chad…Goodness, I shouldn’t go trigger it, should I, huh, Brain? Hell, I can’t feel anything…Liz, breathe. In and out. Like the doctor said. Breathe, relax. And then it was dark.
I only wake up after some time. It doesn’t even feel like waking up, I just know I can breathe again…and I am no longer alone. Someone brought me to the infirmary…and that exact person is hovering by the doorway like a hawk watching over its breeding…HIM.
Why did I have to faint in front of Kyle James Carter, of all people?
And where the hell was Kayla?!
Speak of the devil. Here she comes, rushing past Kyle with a paper bag in one hand and a coffee to-go mug in the other, her skirt flying around, covered by her blazer.
“There you are! I was wondering when you’d wake up!” she yells, destroying my ear drums.
I unintentionally turn to look at the place where Kyle had been, but there is nothing there, just the empty doorway leading to our school’s main hallway. Had I imagined him?
“He was there, Liz. You didn’t dream him. And you know, I bet Cailyn Thompson is very angry with you, you see, she never got to faint and be saved by one Kyle Carter! And I didn’t even get to record the scene! That’s not nice, Liz! You should give me a little anticipation on your grand love gestures, huh?!” she says, ignoring my sleepy look and delicate hearing.
She puts down my afternoon break on the table next to the bed where I’m lying, then sits down on the side of it and snugs under my right arm and hugs me.
She does love to make a scene.
“You’d be pretty good together, you know?” she says, after a while.
“Me and HIM?! Are you high?!” I say, highly offended by the simple thought of it.
“I didn’t say a name, Liz! And besides, I hear he’s a reader, like you!” there you go, another episode of Kayla trying to pair me up with someone and failing completely.
“I don’t care, Kay! I don’t care for him, and I utterly dislike him! What makes you think it might change as of now? Him helping me does not prove anything…and I sincerely don’t care. I just need my best friend and to not talk about a guy who makes my academic life hell, thank you.”
I blurt out, rage moving through my veins faster than blood itself.
“That can be arranged, bestie. But I am not giving up on this.” She says, throwing me a knowing look.
“Ok, whatever you say, Gossip Queen.” I say, and then I hit her with my pillow, sitting upright with my back to the headboard of the bed.
We end up throwing the pillow at each other and laughing so hard somebody could have sworn we either came from a mental asylum or that we had just watched an insanely funny film.
We talk some more; we have our break together and then I get my permit from the school nurse to leave school.
Me and Kayla get separated on the Tube, because she must take the green line to go home, and I the pink one.
We wave at each other, while she walks out of Aldgate East station, and I follow the yellow line to the train that will take up to Barbican.
After less than twenty minutes, I get to Barbican station, with not so much fuss as I usually expect at this time of day.
I walk out the station, keeping good care of always surveying my belongings, and avoid the curious glances of the workers coming into the station.
Is it so weird that a teenager coming back from school uses the tube? No. That’s what I thought.
I walk those 50 metres that divide me from my flat building and walk inside. I step those hideous three flights of stairs that destroy my feet every time and get to my landing.
I fumble for my keys, find them and then I finally get home. What an adventure, ha! I go get changed, because my school uniform itches like nothing else and I dream of getting out of it from the moment I must wear it in the morning.
I put on an easy pair of blue jeans, my white shirt, slightly unbuttoned on the collar, and my favourite black-and-white vest.
I wear my dark green coat over it, grab my book bag and walk out of my flat again, keys in hand, and my copy of Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen safely tuck inside my book bag.
I catch the yellow line tube to Blackfriars, and head out on my favourite and most familiar riverbank in the world, my dear Thames’s.
I walk around a bit, breathing in the cold fresh air of late October, closing my arms around my chest to tighten my coat and warm myself. Should’ve brought a scarf. Never mind.
I find my spot on a bench over-looking the river, not too far-out, but not completely in the shade of the buildings behind it. Woah, this has been a long day.
I sit down, relax, and start to do what I favour best in my life: I read.
Even though I have read and re-read Pride and Prejudice time and time again, I cannot seem to stop wanting to. It’s one of my comfort reads. And I just got to the part where they discover Whickham’s workings and Mr Darcy follows Lizzy’s father in the attempt to save Lydia’s dignity.
Ah, I love this part, especially because it leads too…oh shush, I shouldn’t spoiler anything.
I am quietly reading, felling my peace surround me and comfort my mind, when someone interrupts my reading.
Oh, my Heavens, who am I supposed to murder now?
Ok, no. Not Kyle, not now.
“Hey Cuthbert” he says. So much for outside-school politeness.
“Carter” I greet back, not deigning him of a look.
“Do I not deserve a hey back?” he has the outrageous courage to expect it. Humph.
“Nope.” He will not have a thank you from me, ever.
“What are you reading there?” he asks me…the insolence…you cannot come here and interrupt my reading and expect me to have a polite conversation with you.
I grudgingly hold my book high so that he can scan the cover and read the title for himself.
“Pride and Prejudice? That’s so boring and simple!” he says, almost on the verge of laughing.
“Says the one holding a copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray in his hand!” I shoot back, noticing the book he was holding.
“Oh well, that I do. Fair, Cuthbert, fair.”
He says, with a smirk on his face.
“I'll find a way to change your mind, though. But I won’t change mine.”
“You expect me to change my mind for you? Ha, fat chance, Carter.”
“Oh really? That’s how you’re going to play this game? I accept the challenge, Cuthbert.” He announces.
“Perfect. Now get out of my sight, please.” I say, harshly.
He deserves it, of course. I only feel spite towards him.
Just how much annoyingness can exist in a human being, like, for real? I guess he has at least half of the world's!                                “With pleasure.” And then he walks off toward the Millennium Bridge.
Typical Kyle. Always making a theatrical exit, or entrance, such an actor.
“Wait!” I yell back at him, before I can stop myself-
What? Didn’t I just say I didn’t want to have him around more than I must?
“Yes?” He yells back, turning back around to look at me, with that insufferable smirk on his face.
“How did you know I was here?” I ask him.
I have been thinking about this since he first said Hey to me earlier.
“What makes you think I intended to see you?” ugh, why do I even ask.
“Of course, you didn’t. Go back home, Carter. And for your information Monument’s the other way.” I tell him, as he’s walking away towards the bridge.
“Who told you I was going home?” he remarks.
Humph, just go, Kyle. Please.
“Whatever, Kyle. Just go.” and he left, listening to me. For once.
I go back to my reading, and I re-discover my love for Pride and Prejudice, smiling like an idiot at every scene and every word the genius pen of Jane Austen wrote.
I do love using metaphors, don’t I?
Yep, that I do.
Time passes quietly, with the fresh moving my hair around like the branches of a tree in the low wind on a field.
I just adore spending my afternoons like this…without Kyle’s interruption, obviously.
The sky above me turns to dark blue and I realize, my mum and my dad must be waiting for me, since they come back from work at around this time in the evening.
I walk the same path I did coming here, with the tube and the streets full of onlookers, which now look remarkably more tired than at half past four in the afternoon.
Not many have the luxury to read around instead of working in an office or doing homework. But I have, and I will use it until it goes expired.
I get home and finish my day having dinner with my mum and my dad, happily talking about what happened at work or at school today.
This is the perfect picture of my family: we have our ups and downs, but we make it through the hours of light, just enough to be able to get together at the end of the day to feel warm and welcome, to feel at home.
I go to bed, and without thinking, I end up dreaming.
Dreaming of someone I care about.
Someone I never thought I'd care about.
Someone I wish I didn't care for.