I Told the Stars about You

Chapter 31: Good Girl

The football game is too soon. The exams are too soon.

God, I've got my finals in 3 days. 3 days.
I've got my basketball match in one week.

I try and calm my racing thoughts by typing my biology revision work furiously into my laptop, but I can't seem to keep the thoughts out of my mind. There are going to be university sponsors in the audience watching me play and although I'm less worried now that I know I won't have to play against Jason, I'm still doubting myself. There's the obvious option that I mess up, trip and fall straight on my face. There's the option I don't even make it to the match because I'm throwing up from anxiety. And then there's the option that I'm good, that I play well and hope I have a chance at getting the scholarship. But it's not enough and I fail.

That's the worst option.

So, I try to keep doing my Biology revision.

"Cyclin AMP catalyses ATP to hydrolise into Protein Kinase A..." I begin typing it in and realise my error, delete it, "No, No...". I look at the question in confusion. Try to back track my thoughts.

ATP is hydrolysed by an enzyme in the inferior layer of the cell surface membrane and-
What am I going to do if Rose doesn't want to come to the game because she's still feeling guilty about Jason not getting the scholarship? What if she doesn't show up, or she-
Inferior part of the cell surface membrane, which then becomes cyclic AMP. Cyclic AMP is a secondary messenger that-
What if my predicted grades aren't reliable? What if I do so much worse than I think I'll do in the exams?
Cyclic AMP then activates protein kinase A to produce a cascade which-
I'm never going to do well enough for the scholarship.

Giving up on the question I've been staring at for the past hour, I shut my laptop and walk out of the empty library. I should have known that staying here after school wouldn't do me too well considering I'm not giving myself a break right after six hours of lessons.

As I'm walking back home and I'm about to cross the road to the path that leads home, I consider going in the opposite direction and heading to Rose's house.

She's probably going to think I'm insane walking to her house without a warning.

I start crossing the road.

But then again, she showed up at my house before 9am, so she can't judge...

I'm chuckling to myself as I turn away from the crossing and head towards Rose's house. The pavements are wet from the last of the spring rain we've had, and the flowers from the plant pots outside people's wooden apartments smell fresh and welcoming, inviting the sensation of the summer coming up ahead. Because this is such a mountainous range and we're on the North Face, it never gets over 30ºC in the summer. But it does mean that, despite nobody having swimming pools and going to the nonexistent beaches, people can hike and climb the mountains all year round- something I remember doing with my Mum from a young age.

I wonder if Rose would like to go up Lacusabiet with me.

I take asharp right to go down the alleyway that branches out into the larger houses of the village and imagine what it will be like to move away next September. What it will be like to let go of all these memories and the stories hidden between the houses of this forgotten village. What it will be like when Rose moves.

I spot a flower shop that looks familiar to me as I walk down the alleyway. The streetlamps switch on just as I approach it, as if giving me a sign. And I realise I used to wait for Cassie every day outside of the same florist shop while she bought daisies and sunflowers. The memories come so fast that I'm shocked I ever forgot them. That I never linked the possibility that maybe Cassie...