The Weight of The Moon

Chapter Nine

Act natural, was my first instinct, and clearly, it was Peyton’s too, for she also dove towards the nearest shop window, suddenly wonder-struck by a pair of mustard yellow brogues. 

“They’re gorgeous.” Peyton stated, rather loudly, now trying too hard to achieve ‘natural’.

“Mmm.” I mumbled. “Maybe your dad would like them.” I offered helpfully, and he probably would.

My best friend rolled her eyes. “Ugh, don’t remind me.”

“Selena?” Asked a deep voice behind me, and that’s when I knew that we’d been caught. 

I turned on my heel, and saw Marlie stood directly in front of me. I’d like to say that I didn’t blush, but if Peyton ever reads this, she’ll tell me how it’s a sin to lie.

We were stood in the middle of a cobblestone street, lined on either side by brick buildings that stretched upwards to impressive heights. Like the bricks in the bookstore, they were weathered, and looked tired, but they still stood, trudging on. At each end of the street, cars zoomed by swiftly, like little schools of fish. The street was, in retrospect, a little, aged haven, surrounded by the modern world. 

And there stood Marlie, in the middle of this. I really would like to say that the street was too distracting, and I couldn’t focus on him, but I think it was merely down to the fact that I was embarrassed. Embarrassed for not calling him? Embarrassed for interrupting his meeting with Brandi? Embarrassed for thinking I had a chance.

“Hey, I’m Peyton.” The girl stood beside me thrust out her hand, and I made a muted note to myself to thank her, for extinguishing the unenviable silence. 

Marlie shook her hand, and mumbled a well-mannered response, but I didn’t once feel his eyes leave my face. And I didn’t know why. 

“You didn’t call.” I was indisputably taken aback by Marlie’s impudent comment, and he must have noticed my confusion, for he went on. “I left you my number, and you didn’t call.”

Flabbergasted, I didn’t know what to say. And that’s why I was thankful, once again, for Peyton’s leap to my aid. “Well? Can you blame the girl? What would your girlfriend think?” My best friend snarled, spitting out the word ‘girlfriend’ as if it held a bitter taste.

Marlie appeared almost as shocked as I still remained. Something, I was sure, that the reining drama queen, Peyton, would later comment on, as bad acting. 

“Girlfriend?” He spluttered. I was afraid to admit to myself, but his acting didn’t seem too shabby to me.

If you haven’t yet noticed, which I’m pretty certain you have, I don’t speak out in tense situations. I had let Selene do most of the talking during my lecture from Zeus, and this time? Peyton was my spokeswoman. Until now.

“Yeah, your girlfriend, Brandi.” I wouldn’t have been surprised if no one had heard me.

“Brandi? My girlfriend?!” He seemed even more surprised at first, but then he began to laugh.

This is when Peyton put on her ‘don’t mess with me’  face, that terrifies even me. “You think it’s funny do you? Messing with Selena like that? No wonder she didn’t call you back.”

Thankfully, Marlie did the sensible thing and stopped laughing. Smart guy.

“You don’t understand.” He began to explain. Peyton immediately threw her nose into the air, uninterested in any word he had to say, but I felt like he deserved a chance to explain. I mean, it might soften the blow a little, for my sake. “Brandi’s not my girlfriend. She’s my friend. I’m so sorry for all the confusion Selena.” And he did look truly sorry.

“Whatever, Marlie.” Peyton said, grabbing my arm, and beginning to walk away in a melodramatic retreat. Until I stopped her.

“How do I know you’re telling the truth?” I asked Marlie, finally meeting his gaze. 

Hurt flashed in the boy’s eyes. “You don’t believe me? Look, if Brandi was my girlfriend, I would be with her right now, not returning home from waiting for you to turn up at the bookstore.”

A little confused, a mumbled, “You were there for me?”

He nodded, suddenly blushing, bashfully. “Look, Selena. Can we put this behind us? Forget this ever happened? And maybe meet at the fair this weekend? I know it’s a little cheesy, but my mum’s running the flower stand, and I have to be there.”

Call it what you want, but I never have done, and never will do, refer to a fair as cheesy. I beamed. “Of course I’ll be there. I’ll call you.”

And with that, our conversation disintegrated, and we parted our separate ways. 

That evening, I needed to draw. I wolfed down my dinner, itching to get to my drawing book. After I had bounded up the stairs, and collapsed into my room, I grabbed an assortment of coloured pencils, and immediately began drawing. 

Ever since I was little, I had experienced moods like that. Moods where I’m feeling so creative, it would just be a waste to ignore it. 

Like I had done in art class, I sat, with my body firmly in my chair, but my mind up with the gods. My hands didn’t carry the pencils, instead, the pencils led me. 

Hours later, almost dangerously close to my shift, I returned to earth, and glanced down at my inevitable masterpiece. 

It featured, my portrait in profile, and Marlie’s, facing me. Our lips were puckered, and our eyes closed, preparing for a kiss. And yet, there was a large brick wall, dividing us. Confused, I threw the drawing to the bottom of my artwork pile, and tried not to dwell on it too much. 

It was only a drawing after all…

But, then again, my last drawing had had a little meaning, right?