Coffee with Wilde

Chapter 7

"Poetry at its best can do you a lot of harm" - Sylvia Plath

Once again Athena found herself in 'Artisans' before Klade. Waving to Mary and Lena before ordering a mocha from Kwan, she sat down in her usual seat.

A new idea struck her, well it had during second period General Mathematics, in which she was unable to start writing as interest rates had been biding her time, but now was the perfect time. 1930's Razorhurst was begging to be written.

Ten minutes and half a coffee cup later, Klade arrived his gangly limbs going in all directions, as he held a magazine in his hands.

"Athena and I got published!" he yelled.

She hid behind her notebook as everyone began to clap and pat them on the back. Klade on the other hand danced his way over to their table, tossing the glossy magazine onto the table top.

"Did you get a copy?"

"It's in my bag but I'm too scared to look at it," she said.

"Don't be, it's great, it was funny and sweet. I can tell you really like this guy."

"He's just a nice bloke from Legal Studies," she said.

"That you want to do?"

"I was hoping to go out to a movie first."

"So...you have the mens rea but haven't done the actus reus."

"I take it I'm not the only one who does Legal Studies."

"What's his name?"

"Stephen Vestergaard."

Before she could stop him, Klade had his Android out, wrapping his fingers around the black case before typing with his thumbs. He let out a laugh. "Is he a slam poet?"

"What?"

He gestured her over, holding out his phone. She knelt down on the seat next to him. "Play it, go on." She hit his arm repeatedly until he pressed play, turning the sound up.

"What has the public education system done for me/I was asked last Tuesday/To me public education means.../Crappy mental health services with a replacement part time counsellor/ Every year."

"Is that Steph's poem, the guy's a bloody legend, doesn't make me feel like a dropout for going to TAFE. Guys you have to see this," one of the boys said, running over to them and peering over Athena's shoulder.

"Athena's half in love with the guy," Klade said, as five other artists ran over, climbing over each other in order to get the best view. Mary ended up lying over Klade and Athena's lap, while one of the boys sat on top of the plush seat, his legs on both sides of Athena. Lena leant over her shoulder, propping herself up against Mary.

"I am not," she said, after everyone found a comfortable place. She hit the play button, before anyone could refute the fact based on the colour of her cheeks.

"A school which claims/To be advanced/Yet the air conditioning doesn't work/But we can afford a new basketball court. An ATAR/factory/where we wear nooses around our necks as a part of uniform.

"Except I have to sing praises where/the only positives are my English teacher/and the cute girl behind me in Legal Studies/but she's proof that the anti-bullying programs don't work.

"Numbers stamped on our foreheads first/Second/99.95."

His voice blared out of the phone but it went in one ear and out of the other as Athena sat tucked up on the seat, sifting through the new information. He could mean Cynthia who sat next to her, he talked to her.

"I used to go to school with the kid, he was so quiet and now look at him," one of the boys said. "Athena you'll have to make the first move if you want to do anything."

"Thank you all for getting involved in my love life," she muttered, running a hand over her face.

"It's a lot more interesting than mine," Klade said.

"Do you want me to go there?" she spat.

"Can we see your poem now Klade?" Lena asked.

Athena took the glossy magazine out of her bag, which had become slightly crumpled, and handed it to her. Lena flicked through the pages, landing on the stapled middle page. Her brown eyes trailed down the page, pausing every few lines to smile slightly.

"It's really nice, babe, you should tell him," Lena said, nudging him and pointing to Kwan who was helping a customer.

"I didn't tell Ty Bates I liked him back in Year 3, I'm not telling Kwan now that I know love inevitable leads to sorrow."

"I know Ty Bates, I could set you up if you want," Athena said.

Klade leant over, ripping the magazine from Lena's hands and hitting Athena with it. As she reached for his copy, Klade took it out from under her fingertips. He rolled them up, tucked them under his armpit. Throwing Mary off his legs, he climbed onto the table, launched off it and ran out of the cafe.

"Give it back! Otherwise you'll end up being Sherlock Holmes next mystery!" Athena yelled, grabbing her bag and running after him, screaming bloody murder.