1. First meeting.
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~ Can't Stop by The Red Hot Chili Peppers ~
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I guess the beginning is the best place to begin.
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Our schools were mere yards away from each other on opposite sides of a quiet road, outside a relatively small town. Both of our schools were mixed - boys and girls - but the students from either schools rarely acknowledged each other, much less became friends with them. There was a small but, for some reason, vital difference between our schools.
Yours was private, mine was public. Prince Private and St. Anthony's Public.
Yours apparently named after a 1980's pop star, the name usually followed by an unconscious humming of 'Purple Rain'. The students from my school made a habit out of singing the chorus loudly whenever one of the students of your school braved the walk of shame out of the school gates (usually their parents soon arrived in their shiny Mercs or Land Rovers - the choice car for rich families). I tried not to laugh but still found it hilarious.
St Anthony's, however, was aptly named after the patron saint of finding things and lost people. I often assumed it was because it was so difficult to find someone with even an ounce of common sense in the place. Or perhaps it was the fact that finding an A student was like finding a needle in a haystack. St Anthony's students were a particular disappointment to the town and most of the surrounding area, especially with Prince in such close proximity to it.
Yours had a long lane, sheltered by colourful trees leading up to it, mine was pretty much along the road. You wore a tailored blazer, tie and neatly pressed pants, I wore a cheap jumper with a crest ironed onto it, no tie (they were banned because they were considered 'dangerous') and a pair of trousers that had belonged to God knows how many people before me. Your school was exclusively for high achievers; the best of the best, the people who took everything education-related seriously and strived to be better than everyone else. Our school handled the slackers; the ones who were forced by their parents to go to school, the ones who took all the teachers' attention and left them with no time to help the people who actually wanted helping.
I rarely spotted a student from your school during school hours. Unlike us, you didn't venture into town at lunch - too busy working, I guess. The only time I saw any of you was in the evening.
It was a Friday, the evening treacherous and wet. The rain was coming from all directions and starting to soak through my grey trousers, making them stick to my legs. Mum was late - again. I had always told her to come at five past four, yet she always waited until twenty past to show up ("You're never out at five past." "That was one time, Mum!"). So I was waiting along the road yet again with no other students to be seen and to top it all off, it was raining.
I bent down and searched in my bag, then looked around to make sure there was nobody around. Satisfied, I pulled out my umbrella. It was strictly for emergencies, and when no one was around. I'm the sort of person that doesn't care - but does. Nonsensical, yes. There are some things I could do with absolutely no embarrassment, big things, but give me a small thing to do and my hands will shake, my face will heat up and I'll lose the ability to formulate a sentence. I could state my opinion confidently in class, yet if I was asked to read a few lines out of the textbook, I'd stutter until the teacher felt sorry for me and interrupted.
I didn't see you, obviously, but when I was under the shelter of my umbrella and no longer blinded by the rain, I could see you there, across the road hiding in the sheltered shadows of the thinly leaved trees. You had a pair of red headphones over your ears and you were getting drenched. You looked up, right at me as if you could sense me staring at you. A few things happened that couldn't be explained, and were never explained to me.
