[in progress] As hearts collide {chicklit}

Chapter Five - six months ago...

It was April. The telltale signs of a British spring were in in full swing; wild bluebells and daffodils brightening the green pastures and the smell of rain in the breeze.

Mia had taken me under her wing back in Year 8. Now, I was a permanent fixture in our little clique. Six of us - three girls, three boys; Leanne, Mia's perfectly preened sidekick with a penchant for daydreams; Lee, the perpetual winner at life and Mia's beau; Ben, the rugged rugby star, Theo, Leanne's other half whose quiet charm hid a thousand stories; and of course, Mia and me.

We were a package deal, sharing lunchtime secrets, navigating classes, and our weekends were full of football matches, cinema outings, and hanging out at someone's house. We were inseparable. But looking back, there was no space to breathe, no room to be our true selves.

That fateful night - the one that would forever etch itself into my memory - started at the bowling alley. Lee's triumphant victory, Theo's good-natured banter, and Mia's ongoing scheme to bring Ben and I together. She'd spent a lot of time giving me a makeover in preparation for our triple date. But my awkward form was still layered in puppy fat and I was the ugly duckling of the group. Ben's tall, broad rugby form and model good looks kept him firmly in place in the group. I was under no illusions that he was out of my league.

As the last bowling ball rolled, Ben was still no closer to asking me out. Mia, relentless in her quest for romance, suggested we all hang out at her house the next day. Her grand plan? To ensure that the only two single souls in our group became an item. It was getting a little humiliating, and I wasn't sure if it was even what I wanted. But when I suggested I wouldn't be able to join them, the scowl on Mia's face said it all. I had no choice.

Late that night, I stumbled home, my mind a whirlwind of teenage angst. I slipped into bed, hoping sleep would release me from my anxiety. But a phone call in the early hours of Sunday morning, woke me from my dreams.

Mum, always an early riser, answered it before it could ring out. As I drifted back into half-sleep, her screams tore through the house. Guttural, heart-wrenching sounds that carved themselves into my memory like initials on a tree.

I bolted out of bed, tripping over my own feet as I raced to mum. I found her at the bottom of the stairs, crumpled on the floor, still gripping the house phone. I pried it from her fingers, my heart pounding.

The voice on the other end of the line started to explain what I imagined they'd already told mum. Sam had been knocked down in a hit and run accident in a remote road on the outskirts of Bristol. Sam, my brother, the one who'd left for university eight months ago, was never coming home.

My ears buzzed, and the room spun. The world had shifted on its axis, and I clung to the phone like a lifeline. What do you say when your universe collapses?

"Thank you," I mumbled, my voice small and distant. I hung up, the dial tone echoing in my ears. Sam's laughter, his kind smile and love of movies and indie music - vanished in an instant.

I sank to the floor, my tears joining Mum's. And as the morning light seeped through the curtains, I realised that life had split open, revealing a chasm of grief. Sam was gone, and I was left with nothing but memories. The house felt emptier and colder somehow.

When Mia called later that morning to share the plans for the day, I couldn't talk. I should have declined her invitation, but i couldn't find the words. So, I found myself walking to her house, my legs heavy with the weight of a thousand emotions.

Mum had already started on her journey to Bristol, and I should have been there by her side. Instead, Uncle Dave stepped in to offer the comfort she desperately needed. I couldn't have imagined what she went through that day.

Mia's home was an elegant four bedroom detached house on the outskirts of town. Her parents, an architect and designer, had woven their creativity into every corner. The house felt like a glossy spread from an interior design magazine.

Mia answered the door, her disdain evident in the crinkle of her nose. "Did you even bother to wash, Emily?" She ushered me inside, and I nodded, unable to muster a coherent response. "I can't do it all, you know, you need to try to put some bloody effort in too!" Her words hit my ears like I was underwater, distant and muffled, and I could do was nod in agreement.

In her room, I was transformed. Mia painted my face, sculpted my cheekbones and emphasised my eyes. Finally, my hair was tamed into a low bun secured with bobby pins.
"This is some of my best work," she declared, studying me like a painting. "Now, bat those eyelashes, fall over his every word and he'll be putty in your hands."

I gazed at my reflection and didn't recognise myself. It wasn't just the makeup - it was the fractured person that looked back at me. Sam's absence had left a void, a missing piece that no amount of mascara could conceal. I'd lost a part of me.

As we joined Lee, Ben, Theo, and Leanne in Mia's plush cinema room, I sank into a seat next to Ben. The movie, "Never Been Kissed," played on the screen, but my mind was lost in memories, torn between longing and grief.

Suddenly, I couldn't bear it any longer. I sprang from my seat, fleeing the room. Mia followed, calling my name, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.
I turned, tears streaming down my cheeks. "I'm sorry, Mia," I choked out. "I have to go home." "Don't be ridiculous!" Her anger flared, simmering just beneath the surface. "What's your problem?" Her words stung, but I couldn't explain the ache that consumed me - that part of me had died when Sam did.
"My..." The words caught in my throat and I swallowed hard.
"Don't you like Ben?" Mia's eyes bore into mine, demanding an explanation. "Don't you want a boyfriend?"
"My brother died this morning." The admission hung in the air, heavy and raw. As soon as the truth spilled from my lips, I crumbled. The pain, the loss, it consumed me.
"Oh, Em," Mia whimpered, her anger replaced by shock. "Why didn't you say anything?"
"I couldn't," I confessed, my voice barely a whisper.
"You should go home," she said gently, "be with your family, I'll talk to you soon."
And with that, she opened the door, releasing me into the night. Each step on my journey home a painful reminder of the broken world I now lived in.

Over the next week, I cocooned myself within the walls of my home. Grief clung to me.

Mia didn't call to check in and her silence echoed louder than any words she could have spoken. I didn't blame her. How do you mend the jagged edges of loss when you've never experienced it yourself?

When I eventually stepped back into the school corridors, word had spread about Sam's death. He was a legend in the hallways - a model student, a first-class football star and the class joker. But, since no one knew the true story, rumours were rife. Drugs, alcohol poisoning, misadventure - our small town talked tales to soothe their curious minds. But the truth was darker and more wicked than they could have imagined.

We learned much later, that Sam had declined a ride back to campus from a friend after a party. He feared they were over the limit, so chose the safety of walking the moonlit country lanes instead. As he made the trek back to his room, a car careened around a bend and the impact was swift and brutal. They'd sped off in fear, leaving Sam to die alone. In the cold. He wasn't found until the next morning.

My group of friends welcomed me back into their fold. But I was no longer the Emily they remembered - the girl who laughed too loudly and doodled hearts on her Converse. Sat on the periphery, their laughter and inside jokes became distant echoes and, by the time July arrived, they'd stopped inviting me out. We were simply no longer friends.

And so, our town whispered, speculated, and mourned. Sam was the lost legend and I was the ghost that walked in his shadow.
He consumed me - he was the rustling leaves, the dancing rainfall, the aching in the hollows of my chest. And as summer came and went, I'd clung to the fragments, until Jim came along, picked me up and made me start to feel whole again.