Misadventure

11

Harry's POV

"Wow."

I startled, drawing in a sharp breath. How long had Dad been standing the doorway?

"That was beautiful, H."

"Thanks." My voice came out shy.

I wasn't sure the exact time, but the foggy, grey sky hinted that it was probably still early. My desk and keyboard were positioned in front of the window, because I liked looking out at the garden while I played. That was one of the few good changes that came from the move. The apartment in Eastbourne never had a garden.

The song I was playing that Dad overheard was one I wrote myself. I'd tried my hand at composing before, but it was difficult. It wasn't something I could just sit down in front of the piano and force. The moment had to be just right, like last night.

The sky had been perfectly clear. That was a rarity in Manchester. But it seemed the city had gone to sleep, no ambient light from buildings to be seen. I'd spent at least three hours watching out the window and playing around with different melodies on the keyboard.

There had been a shooting star last night. It soared downwards, like it was falling out of the sky. It served as inspiration for a short, sad little tune, with series of descending notes.

"I didn't know you played piano," Dad said.

This was no surprise. There was a lot he didn't know about me. "A good friend of mine taught me."

His expression was one of pleasant surprise. "A friend? You didn't tell me you made any friends here yet. That's great news."

"I didn't make a friend yet, Dad. He's from Eastbourne."

"Oh. Well, what's this friend from Eastborne's name then?"

"Louis Tomlinson."

"You should invite him over one of these days." A small, hopeful smile crossed his face. "He's welcome anytime. I know the move has been a hard adjustment for you. Maybe a little slumber party would help cheer you up?"

"I don't think he'd want to visit," I said.

Dad looked confused. "You said he was a good friend, yeah? I'm sure he misses you."

"We're no longer in contact." There was a lump forming in my throat. I didn't want to talk about Louis. It was a school day, and it was far too early to start crying already.

"Oh. Well, I'm sorry to hear that." Dad looked a little uncomfortable, and I was relieved when he decided to go back downstairs. Still, I was left with a pit in my stomach.

To say Louis and I had been 'friends' felt like lying by omission. We'd never verbally labeled ourselves as anything more, but the empty feeling in my chest spoke for itself. I'd lost friends before. Losing a friend didn't feel like this.

I tugged at my hair, spinning back and forth in my desk chair. Fuck, where did I go wrong? How did we go from being inseparable to being strangers as if overnight? The lack of explanation was the part that hurt the worst, I think.

My whole life, I'd been stuck in a pattern of getting attached to someone, then having them drop me without saying why. It felt unfair almost. It left me paranoid that I would unknowingly repeat the same mistake that kept driving everyone away, because I didn't even understand how I was doing it in the first place.

Then again, maybe I deserved it. Louis had a heart of gold. He wouldn't have left me in the dirt the way he did without good reason. I had to have done something terrible, and maybe I was a bad person for not recognizing whatever I did that somehow hurt him.

****

"I hate it here. I want to go home." I sobbed, pressing the phone tightly to my tear soaked cheek. "I miss Eastbourne. I miss Mum. It's really lonely here."

School had been especially awful today. A group of my old friends from primary school had approached me earlier in the week, informing me that there would be a costume contest.

"It's school tradition," they said. "It happens every year, the Tuesday before Halloween."

I had been so excited to have other students actually talking to me for once, I hadn't even questioned it.

Today was Tuesday.

There was no costume contest.

It could have been worse. Luckily, Dad answered the phone first try when I called him frantically crying in the boy's bathroom, hiding in a locked stall and begging to get picked up early.

I was able to leave before first period had even started, but that didn't change the fact that I'd walked into school that day dressed as Cat Woman. The pictures taken by other students will live on social media forever.

"You've just got to put yourself out there a little more," Gemma said. "I know you don't want to hear this, but you're not going to make friends without letting yourself be vulnerable around your peers."

"Right. Because showing up in a spandex body suit wasn't vulnerable or anything." I couldn't help the edge to my voice. I called my sister to wallow, not to ask for advice.

The worst part was knowing she was right. But it was so hard for me, in a way I didn't know how to get her to understand. I was used to being alone. As sad as it made me, isolating myself had become second nature.

"It's not that simple," I complained. "I went to primary school with these kids. Before the move to Eastbourne they made fun of me, and now nothing has changed."

I brought this up, hoping it would help her understand where I was coming from. We had a similar experience in primary school. We both used to be known as the siblings whose Mum went off the rails. She was PTO royalty turned junkie. It made us stick out like sore thumbs.

We became the kids who stayed at school late, because Mum forgot to pick us up, who stayed behind on field trip days because we couldn't catch a parent home long enough to sign our permission slips, who stayed in from recess because we'd outgrown our winter attire and didn't have anyone to buy us what we needed.

But despite our shared history, Gemma and I weren't the same anymore. She was the kid who grew up and overcame her circumstances and found herself a healthy relationship, a stable income, and had a bright future ahead of her. I was the kid who still sat alone at lunch, who was weird and quiet and apparently gullible enough to wear a cat suit to school.

"If people at school won't be your friend, that's their loss. There are other ways to make friends."

"Like?"

"Extra curriculars?" She suggested. "You love to play piano. Get involved with the music scene. You'll meet people with similar interests."

That wasn't a bad idea. I hadn't played any recitals since the one at Louis' church, and that was such a painful memory. It felt wrong to let that be the last recital I ever played, like leaving a song unfinished on a bad note. Besides, I knew I needed to refine my skills before university. I didn't want to be the worst musician there, I wanted to fit in for once.

"You're right."

"I always am," she said smugly. "And sorry, if I sound pushy about the whole making friends thing. You're going through a lot, and you're doing your best, and it's better than I could do if I were in your shoes." Her voice went softer the longer she spoke, shifting into that old familiar, nurturing tone of her's. "Try not to lose sleep over what your peers think. You're a catch, H. Someday you're going to walk into somebody's life and they're going to wish you'd been there all along."

"Thanks. This phone call helped. A lot." I dried my eyes with my sleeve. That's when I realized I was still wearing my god-awful Halloween costume.

"What are you giggling about?"

"Nothing." I laughed again. "It's just... I'm crying to my sister in a cat costume. It's not even Halloween. Life is dumb and weird."

"Life is dumb and weird." She sounded amused, and more than a little relieved that I wasn't crying anymore. "I guess it's better than death, though."

And, well, she did have a point.