Anonymous

3

Later that day, I was walking home through my village of Kilboyne, texting Toni. Kilboyne is a very small place in Meath, Ireland. It wasn’t exactly in the middle of nowhere, but it was pretty close. Fields and farms mixed with factories and housing estates to give the landscape surrounding the village, an industrialised feel.

I had a heavy bag (what did I expect? I was in my third year of secondary school!) bursting with books and copies that I would very much like to dump in the river that ran almost parallel to my route home. The river and I were like two poles on the same magnet, different but always together.

The trek from school to my house usually took at least twenty minutes…on a good day. However, the weather today and the weight of my bag contributed to my conclusion that today was a not a one of those precious days.

My trek brought me walking through Kilboyne Park, the rain was drenching my clothes and I had no jacket, but I felt as though I hadn’t a care in the world. The muddy grass was splattering my clothes leaving great blobs on my white socks and grey skirt, but I found, I didn’t care. My conversation with Toni had ceased and I was left to my thoughts. No one walked this way; it’s not like I’d be seen or anything.

The park, which was a mandatory part of my route to and from school, was empty, except for a few walkers and a mother who was ushering her children home. I was not, let’s say, being looked at kindly.

I had just reached the edge of the park and I was just about to make my way out the gate, when I heard an angry shout.

"Tristan Cambell, you come out here and help me right now!"

The voice had come from past the gate of the park, only 10 metres in front of me. I slowly walked up to the gate and peered out.

The blue haired boy from my class helping his dad, it seemed, bring a few boxes of sorts into a house that had been on sale for as long as I could remember. Both were busy with what they were doing.

The house was directly across the road from the park gate, and it was still a miracle the boy didn’t see me. I retreated behind a tall tree that stood directly beside the gate.

Now that I was hidden, I began to work through all that had just happened. The piece of gossip, the new guy was moving into a house very close to mine; he had a dad (In my defence, I was shocked)  and his name was Tristan Cambell.

"Tristan Cambell," I breathed. The name rolled off my tongue. From all the information I had just learned about him; that was the bit that stood out. It was only a name, but I felt closer to him now.

From where I was standing, I was obscured from view behind the tree and an overhanging bush that was a daily nuisance for me. However, right now, I was thanking God for it. The house question was a semi-detached house, almost exactly like my own. It was white, had brown window frames and a red-brick bottom front. The blue ‘fox’s housing’ sign had been there so long that the letters had begun fading and the blue background looked almost white.

I was to frozen to that spot, looking through the foliage of the bush. My nose was pushed up against the leaves, causing water droplets to drip down my nose, and for the rain to cloud my vision.  I blinked furiously, trying to regain my sight, as I watched the family of the blue hair boy.

The small, barely-used road separating the two of us was empty and so, I could easily hear the voices speaking. In all, there were two girls, a boy and a man, all with the same strong English accents.

That boy was taking easily to the man, which I guessed to be his father. From what I could catch, it was about how his day at school had been.

"Yeah, it was fine, but the registration took longer than I expected to. I only got into classes just before lunch because mum mixed up the forms, so it took a while," he told his father. The man nodded accepting the boy’s words. The boy from my class said this so easily, I felt I had imagined that angry shout moments before, but how could I of?

"Well, you got to class in the end, that’s all that matters…" he retorted to his son. I missed the rest on the conversation, as the males carried a couch into the house.

I stared at the door they disappeared through and suddenly felt embarrassed. What was I doing? I was standing here, like a complete stalker listening to private conversations. My God… what a creep!

I glanced at the garden again. The two girls were still there talking. The younger sister was rooting in the back of the nearly empty removal van while the older girl (thirteen maybe?) was fixing her hair in the window of the van. Her dark blonde hair was being transformed into an intricate braid down the side of her head. Her fingers moved at speed and with experience, which told me this wasn’t the first time she had done this.

They look busy. I could try going…

However, before I could decide, the two males were out again. My body, which had been half out of my hiding place, snapped back instantly into the cover of the leaves. I sighed, frustrated. How am I going to get out of here?

"Daddy! Daddy! Look at me! " I heard the cute little voice of the youngest girl. She had made her way out of the van and was carrying three heavy looking bags, clearly trying to impress her father. She looked about eight or nine. The clear plastic bags contained what looked like cushions and sorts, but still looked the full weight of the dark blonde haired little girl. I was quite impressed by the little girl’s strength, but her father definitely wasn’t.

“Lottie! This is the last time I tell you this! Stay. Away,” he roared at her, iterating every syllable of his last words. I looked at the cowering small girl and frowned slightly, completely forgetting my predicament at that moment; that wasn’t nice.

The little girl dropped the bags and fled into the house, earning another angry sigh from her father and the comment "I’ll deal with you later," as the bags themselves splashed down onto the muddy grass of the front garden. I stood behind that tree shocked. Their father was so angry. Surely, this wasn’t a usual occurrence?

However, the attitudes of the two teenagers, still in the garden, abolished all doubt. They were standing there, as quiet as mice, as not to attract any attention to themselves, to not be targeted. I knew this tactic. It was the one I used.

I now felt very uneasy behind the tree. The road was still quiet, and the park was deserted. Where had everyone gone? The rain had now stopped and my tree was letting its load go, but I still stood there. Only the wind moved.

What would happen if they saw me here? Would he, ‘deal with me’, too?

In my heart, I knew that man wouldn’t do anything to me. He was from the breed of men, like my father, that only let his anger out at his family and hid it when anyone else was around. I was scared for that girl, that innocent little girl, who only wanted to impress him…

Luckily for me, the three clear plastic bags signalled the end of the emptying of the van. The man slammed the back doors shut and electronically locked the van with a pair of keys. He yelled inside for ‘Ellen’ to ring the removal company, so they could collect the van. His tall figure walked expectantly towards the front door, with plastic bags in tow. The door was the exact same one as mine, and his two other children follow silently and with hast. The door was closed gently after them, shutting away the family from the outside world. I was now free to go and quickly I scattered from the house.

I was almost at the end of the road and the house was nearly blocked from view. I didn’t dare look to see if I had been noticed. That boy, the amazing guy everyone thought he was, was in the exact same position I was. He didn’t have a perfect home situation and he didn’t show it in his attitude.

I really did want to get to know Tristan Cambell now.

Dedication is for my first commenter! You really gave me hope for this story, thank you :D