Lorelie vs the Life of Summer Rose

Chapter 6

 Summer and I talk until she falls asleep. We talked about books and we talked about our shared hate for people, especially rude people. Then we got into our pet peeves with people, like open-mouthed chewing, nonsensical interrupting for no important reason, overly touchy couples and friends who talked way too loud, etc, etc. Then we talked about how much we loved markets and agreed that we would go to one tomorrow morning before it got busy. I don't remember Summer having this much substance in the book. I also don't remember her being such a hater, but I like it. I can almost forget that she's not actually real. Or that I'm not real. Whatever.

I slip away from Summer's bed when I hear her parents' door shut. Her dad's a snorer, like mine. As for the mum, I can only hope that her husband's undiagnosed sleep apnea masks the sound of my footsteps as I venture downstairs and out of the house, the cold air chilling my face.

All things considered, this could have been a lot worse.

I could have actually been trafficked. I could have been stuck in a fantasy book. And even though I'm not too happy about being stuck in a romance novel, I'm just happy it's not some kind of werewolf situation with fated mates. Awkward. I'm starting to realise that the shifter boyfriend concept is a lot hotter in fiction than I would find it in real life. In real life, I would probably run away. Called animal control. Something along the lines of that. My point is that I would have had a lot more to stress about if I was going into a reality completely different from mine, with different rules and laws and society.

While getting lost in the English countryside isn't ideal, it sure is beautiful.

'Mum,' I think, 'if you're hearing this, just know that I'm okay. Don't go looking for me— I'll come back to you.

Mum would've loved this, the lush wood and fresh breeze. The flowers bowing in the wind. The long stretches of farmland dotted with horses and cows soaking in the solitude of the empty, quiet landscape, completely cut off from the busy roads and ordinary rudeness of the city. She would have loved the tiny cottage with its rustic fireplace and narrow kitchen, so different from home. Home.

All I can think about is her, alone in the house. Since Louise moved out and Dad got taken indefinitely into the hospital before he passed, it was only me and her. And now it's just her.

"Fuck," I mutter, kicking my toes into the dirt.

"Now, that's a bad word."

I jump.

"Look, Gray, we scared her!"

"Maybe she's scandalised from saying a naughty word." The other voice laughs. "Fuck-fuck-fuck."

"Fuck!"

"Who's there?" I yell out, squinting into the darkness. I hadn't chosen a particular path when I started walking— I'd hoped there'd be boundaries to make sure I wouldn't walk too far, and I could always figure out my way back before the sun comes up again. But somewhere along the way I'd completely spaced out. Now I'm at the edge of a fence peering into the faint silhouette of a tree, just barely distinguishing the shape of two boys lounging on the swings hanging from the branches on either side.

I can feel them both staring at me. It aggravates me that I can't stare back.

And I can also smell and see the glow of a cigarette.

"Better yet, who are you?" This one's Gray, I think. His voice is more boyish. "We don't come here a lot but we do know that the Inoue's haven't moved. Or have they? Are you new here?"

"Answer my question first," I say.

"So you are new."

The other one snorts. "Could've just said that."