Worlds Together

Chapter 4

Chapter 4

“Talking about something that makes our guest uncomfortable, are we Kale?” He asks sarcastically, raising an eyebrow and smirking at Kale, who is obviously a friend of his.

The silence that falls, the blatant sudden end of conversation makes it obvious that we were talking about something we didn’t want Thompson to here. In this case; him. Thankfully Kale breaks the silence before it can get any more painfully awkward, although I dare say that would be impossible. “Nah, she’s just missing home and I was quizzing her on family and stuff.” He’s a damn good think-on-the-spot liar. I’ll have to remember that. Thinking about it, I should really learn how to lie on the spot.

The other thing that comes up again while the men before me chat is their accents. Where are they from? It’s not strong, but it’s the same for everyone here, and it’s like nothing I’ve ever heard before; not even on TV or TA. It’s rough but mellow, harsh but relaxed, and it’s confusing the hell out of me.

I'm in a kind of thinking-daze when Kale looks at me, then back to his friend, and asks the question I’ve been wanting to ask all through their little mother’s meeting. “Sorry Dyl, mate, why are you here?”

The question seems to catch him unawares, and he starts. “Actually, I was sent with food.” With that he looks at me grudgingly and brings out of his coat what looks like a sandwich wrapped in plastic and a plastic bottle of water. He sets them down on the little glass table which is between him and Kale, and me sitting cross legged on the horrible bed.

“Thanks,” I say, smiling at him. I may as well have not bothered. I don’t even get a grunt of acknowledgement – instead, he nods at Kale and leaves the room, slamming the door behind him. Turning back to Kale, my face sets smugly, and I simply state “I rest my case.”

“He’s actually a really great guy. Just...”

“Just not with me. Therefore he doesn’t ‘fancy’ me... He doesn’t even like me! If you fancy someone you don’t act all hostile towards them, you don’t ignore them – you’re charming and funny and you acknowledge they exist!” With that rather impressive finish (even if I do say so myself) I reach over to the glass table and grab the sandwich, not really caring what’s inside. I'm hungry.

“I see your point. All I'm asking is that you don’t judge him too quickly.”

I swear I nearly choke on the dry bread I'm eating. “Excuse me?! If I remember rightly, I was the one trying to make friends, and he was the one pointedly staring in the other direction.”

He puts his hands up in surrender. “I know, I know, I'm sorry! That came out wrong. I'm fine with you not liking him particularly, just don’t hate him, okay?”

“I ‘spose I can do that.” I offer an unwilling smile.

“Good!” He claps his hands like a satisfied child.

And just like that, everything’s fine. I can see this being a very easy friendship to uphold. “So, umm, do you know anything about the ‘terms’ of my imprisonment?”

His eyebrows knit together in the middle, not really knowing what I mean. “Not really, why?”

Shrug. “I was just wondering what I'm meant to do all day until I'm released into my natural habitat.”

He laughs a little, then seriously considers the question. “I don’t know, to be honest. I think you’re gonna have to stick around in here until something is decided. Or until the day of your release, I suppose.”

And so I do just that; nothing. I stay in the tiny room, picking out non-existent flaws in the paintwork, or studying invisible scratches in the glass surface of the table. At some point I must have fallen asleep, because I wake up with a terrible pain in my back and no sight. After a moment of panic, I realise someone must have turned out the lights.

With a sense of déjà vu, I shuffle out of bed and onto the cold floor, before straightening myself out and moving slowly towards the far wall. “Don't worry, I'm not trying to escape. I'm just finding the lights.” I say it more for effect than anything else, since I hope he won’t attack me now we’re more or less friends. I finally find the switch, and flip it, causing the lights to suddenly come to life and my eyes to burn with the sudden brightness.

I don’t bother to acknowledge my guard’s presence just yet, first making my way toward the bathroom. “Becca?” Is it possible to freeze and whip round 180 degrees in one moment? I now believe it is. I freeze because I'm shocked, and I spin round because I want to make sure that my ears are not deceiving me, because that voice was not Kale’s.

“Jem?” My eyes are agreeing with my ears, it would seem. In the chair that yesterday belonged to Kale, sat my best friend of ten years, Jeremy Anderson. Jem. My Jem.

“You’re the girl...”

“I am a girl...”

“The one everyone’s been talking about.”

“Oh really? That’s interesting...” They’ve all been talking about me, huh?

“Oh my god!” He leans forwards and buries his head in his hands.

“Why are you here, Jem?”

“Same reason Kale’s here. And Dylan. Same reason all the guys are here.”

“Do you work here?”

“Only from recently. This place was run down not long ago. You should feel honoured; they renovated this whole place for you and your little swanky apartment.” Slowly, the snarky, sarcastic Jem I know and love is wearing through the shock.

“Wow.” Pause. “Wait, does that mean I'm the first person they’ve ever kidnapped?”

“Mm-hmm...”

“So all those guys, they’ve been brought here to guard me? Only me?”

“Yup. Like I said, you should feel honoured.”

“I think I do, now. Do I get a new guard every day?”

“Yeah, I think so. It’s probably so you don’t get too ‘chummy’ with any of your guards.” He waggles his eyebrows. “But from what I heard, that’s fallen flat already. You’re already mates with Kale, which doesn’t surprise me, and me and you go way back. And I haven’t even started on Dylan Thompson!” He smirks, reminding me of when Kale began the talk on Thompson.

“Please don’t start on him! You can tell me whatever you like, but I won’t think he likes me at least until we’ve had a civilised conversation.” Jem has an expression on his face I don’t like. That face you make when the cogs are turning and a plan is forming in your brain. This can’t be good.

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heyy guys... not really sure what to put... same old, same old really :) keep reading chicas and chicos :D