The Fortune Teller (One Direction)

Chapter 8 - His Present

“I can’t be bothered with any of this…” I sigh, shoving a box of oil pastels to the edge of the table and examining my smudged fingertips. It’s Wednesday afternoon, and the four of us have decided to stay behind after school to catch up on our artwork. Evidently, I made the wrong decision.

“Join the club” Raya says, staring intently at her phone screen and typing away on her phone like Speedy Gonzalez. “Then again,” she adds, not looking up from her phone, “I’ve been texting Liam for half an hour…”

“Ray, you’re obsessed with that boy. Me and Niall are taking it slow…” Wendi says proudly, painting away without a care in the world.

“How slow, exactly?” Raya asks sceptically, looking away from the screen for the first time in half an hour.

“Well…very slow.” Wendi says. Raya raises an eyebrow at her and she caves, “Stationary, captain.” She says glumly, saluting Raya.

From the far corner of the room, Darcy suddenly bounces back into reality and asks, “Nail painting counts as art, right?” to which we all laugh. The problem is, I think she was serious. I’d fully expect Darcy to turn up the day our work is supposed to be finished and hold out her hand to our teacher, sweetly asking, “So what grade do I get?”

“I think I’m going to clear up, go home to watch a film…” I announce to the girls, standing up after shoving the small box of pastels under a pile of papers on the worktop beside me. “Anyone else wanna come back to mine?”

“I’d go even if you didn’t ask. I practically live at your place. Your parents adore me.” Raya says matter-of-factly. I laugh at her and ask, ‘Anyone else?’ through the corner of my eye, I’m watching Darcy carefully. She doesn’t move.

“Hmm…you got any food in?” Wendi asks, smiling adorably.

“Indeed I have! I bought some popcorn especially for you, my miniscule amiga.” I reply, and she claps her hands together in joy. Pulling them apart she realises she is covered in paint, “I’ll just clean up first…”

Taking herself over to the sink, Wendi twists around, “You gonna come, too, Darce?”

Filing down her nails now, classically stereotypical, she sighs and answers Wendi, “I suppose.”

Dismissing her attitude, I smile, “Great! I think we should clear this up before we go, though, or ol’ Iain in there will go crazy.” The girls laugh at my joke about our strict teacher. Well, all but one girl does.

-

“Mum? Dad? You home?” I shout to the house as I swing the door open, receiving no reply. The girls follow me in one by one, Wendi having to close the door behind Darcy.

“I wonder why no one’s home…” I can’t hear anything coming from upstairs, and my little brother hasn’t got his stupid cartoons playing on the television. I glance at the table in the hallway and spy a note written in my mother’s handwriting:

Isabella,

Papa and I have taken David to see your Abuelo. Will be back later tonight. Make your own dinner.

Mama xx

P.s. check the table in the kitchen

The sounds of the words get jumbled up in my head, and my mind says ‘Dabeed’ instead of ‘David’. “I love how I always read my mother’s handwriting in a Spanish accent…” I mumble to Raya, who was reading the letter over my shoulder.

“Check the table? Wonder what that means…” she ponders, nosily trying to see through the closed door at the end of the hall.

I shrug, “C’mon,” I say to her and the other two, “Stick the telly on, I’ll find us some snacks.” The girls rush into my living room taking their usual places - Darcy and Wendi at either end of the couch and Raya lounged on the recliner.

I head toward the kitchen, prepared to go straight to the snack cupboard to find Wendi’s popcorn, but I’m distracted by the extravagant display upon the kitchen table.

A glistening diamond-patterned clear glass vase sits in the centre of the table. It’s holding a beautiful arrangement of delicate flowers: seven silky red roses, seven soft white lilies, outlined by vibrant green leaves and stalks. A bright pink ribbon is tied in a bow around the thinnest part of the vase, to finish it all off.

Clipped to a leaf on top by a small butterfly clip is a little pink card. Its says:

Dear Issy,

I’m sorry I can’t see you for a while. It kills me that I don’t get to see you often enough. I miss you so much.

Hope you like the flowers. Cost a bomb ;)

Love from Harry xxxxxxx

My eyes flick back at the gorgeous bouquet of flowers. “Whoah.” I breathe, taking it all in.

I’m stood solid in my place, my eyes fixed on the flowers, when Raya wanders into the kitchen clutching a stack of DVDs.

“Iss what film do you want…” she begins to ask, but her eyes swivel toward the bouquet too, and she gasps in excitement.

“Wow! Are these from Harry?” she asks, snatching the pink card from my hands and scanning the inked words.

“Oh wow! That’s so sweet!” she says adoringly, swaying dreamily from side to side. Then she jumps back and yells “WENDI. DARCY. GET IN HERE.”

Within seconds they join us in the kitchen, and their eyes widen to the width of dinner plates when they notice the flowers. Darcy doesn’t say a word, she just stares, but Wendi has a smile wider than her whole self and can barley even stammer “Who…?”

“They’re from her boooyfrieeeend.” Raya teases, speaking like we’re in year three. I expect her to start chanting something and whipping out a skipping rope. 

Darcy pulls her eyes away from the table and looks at me smiling, “Pretty boy sent you flowers?” she doesn’t echo Raya and Wendi’s joy, but speaks as if she thinks it’s stupid to send your girlfriend flowers.

“Wow, Iss, they’re gorgeous!” Wendi eventually manages to say.

“Yeah. Beautiful.” I tell her, grinning like a fool.

“Huh. They look pretty cheap to me…” I hear Darcy whisper, but I ignore her completely.

“Right. C’mon then,” says Raya, carefully lifting the glass from the tabletop and holding it in front of her so as to not crush the petals. “Where’s this going in your room, Issy?” she smiles, pushing past Darcy in the doorway and carefully ascending the stairs. Wendi follows her, them both squealing like children.

My cheeks are glowing bright red, and I try and shield them with my pale hands. Still smiling like an idiot, I float over to the table and pick up the little pink card, examining it again. On the table, also, is the small butterfly clip. I snatch it from the table and gather my fringe together and brush it to one side, holding it in place with the clip.

Behind me, I hear shuffling feet, and I realise Darcy is still in the room. I turn to look at her, finding her glaring at the tiny pink card clutched between my fingers. She must see me staring because her eyes dart up to meet mine. I smile at her, but she simply turns and swings around the banister, climbing the stairs too.