Who I am

Chapter 4

Connor’s POV

As I stand against the wall just outside of school, the crumpled piece of paper feeling heavier than even before in my pocket, I begin to wonder how this happened. One day I’m free to sit in my desk and not be noticed by the world and the next I’m taking the school idol, Fiona, home with me. I laugh to myself, noticing the irony of how that might sound if I wasn’t talking to myself. This is what women do, with in one day, they drive you absolutely insane I tell myself.

The door swings open and shut, open and shut, open and shut several times. I keep expecting to hear the clatter of her tears, or have my eyes burned out by her bright pink dress but that moment seems to never come.

After about a thousand people have walked out of school, I begin to think she’s just not going to turn up. I turn to walk away. That was good luck, perhaps a little too lucky for me. Nothing’s that easy, especially when it comes to Fiona. I hear the door swing one more time and hope to god it isn’t her. The clatter of heels tells a different story as I hear here chase closely behind me, her breaths sharp.

“Sorry I’m late. I had to do some things.” She croaks uneasily, her breaths short and sharp, her hair slightly out of place which is just a shocking really. She seems to follow my gaze and firmly adjusts her hair, smoothing it out carefully and readjusting her body. “So, shall we get going?” she asks, placing her hands on her hips in a way which I’m guessing is supposed to draw my attention to her but it doesn’t.

“Yeah, we are going.” I say with a smirk on my face. Oh, she isn’t going to like this.

She looks around, confusion on her face. I’ve seen that look far too many times in one day and then slowly it’s as if something clicks in whatever kind of brain she has up there and she seems to be seized in a state of shock.

“No. Please don’t tell me that we’re going to have to walk there.”

I almost laugh at her suggestion. That would be too easy and carefully I look around “No.” I say and I see a look of relief pass in her eyes “You’re going to walk; I’m going to ride my bike.” I add which seems to please her even less.

“Maybe I should ride your bike.” She snaps, walking in front of me to wear my bike’s chained up.

I raise one eye brow “Because you’re going to be able to ride a bike?”

She looks at me like I’m a complete idiot. “Of course I’m going to be able to. I do know how to ride a bike you know.” She snaps, as if it’s the most reasonable thing in the world. I look from her, to her heels, to my bike then to the keys in my hand.

“Sure.” I say, throwing the keys to her.

Unexpectedly she manages to catch them with a smug grin and begins unchaining it. Placing the keys forcefully into the palm of my hand she closes my fingers around them and begins climbing onto the bike effortlessly. She pushes down on the pedal, leaving one foot on the floor as if ready to go. “Come on then, lead the way.” She smile, signalling forwards and I do as she says this time, amazed at the fact it’s possible to peddle a bike in heels when she can barely stand in the first place.

They say time flies when you’re having fun. Sadly, this wasn’t one of them times. The journey was awkward at the least. Fiona refused to give in to her high heel wearing bike peddling ways and I remained to give into conversation as I walked alongside her, hoping no one would spot us together.

I didn’t really want her to meet my Mom. I mean, my Mom knew nothing of this. What was she going to think when I walk through the high school equivalent of a real life Barbie? Worse, what was she going to think when Fiona actually spoke to her? This was going to be a nightmare. It was definite. I was going to die. This was going to be the worst day of my life.

It’s only now that I realise we’ve reached my house and as we make our way to the front door, Fiona gets off my bike and before I can do anything she releases it, letting it clatter into a potted plant near my front door. “Oops.” She says unsurely, pulling an innocent smile and I just groan. I know what’s going to happen now.

My Mom flings open the front door, suspicion clear in her eyes which are narrowed into almost slits “What’s going on here?” she demands as she stares at me. Then something amazing happens, not those kind of amazing moments you hear about, something much different to that. She looks from me to Fiona and at once a smile crosses her face “Oh honey, don’t worry about it. Why don’t you come inside? I don’t know why my son would make you look after that grimy old bike.” She insists, flinging her arm around Fiona and leading her into my house, leaving me standing alone and disturbed on the door step.

That’s the way to play it Mom. Choose a random girl over your own son.

Fiona seems pleased with this attention if not a little worried and standing awkwardly beneath my Mom’s hold she follows beside her, not having much choice. I hear their awkward laughter inside my house and for a second I think this should be the part where I make a run for it but then I remember that it’s my house. There IS nowhere to go anyway.

I follow the direction of the banshee like laughter into the dining room where I see Fiona and my Mom have got quite acquainted. Sitting at the table, in fits of laughter over something that I think I’d rather not know about. Women, what a mystery. I smile grimly, trying to hold in the overcoming dread of this experience.

“Why did you introduce me to this wonderful girl before this? Oh, she’s just a charm.” My Mom says, rather coldly I may add.

I just shrug my shoulders at her, is there any point in explaining?

“I’ll go put on dinner, don’t you go anywhere. Just sit right here and don’t run away.” My Mom jokes but I think we both know there’s a serious note in her voice.

I pull out the seat next to Fiona who seems to fidget uncomfortably in her seat beside me. I decide to do what I do best and ignore her but it’s impossible because she’s moving so much. I finally turn sharply around “Why do you keep moving?!” I say loudly and she looks like she’s been caught out.

“It’s just, I feel weird, dressed like this in your house. It’s a bit, too much.” Her cheeks turn a light red or maybe it’s just the affects of make up in this light. I don’t know what she means until I remind myself of her classy outfit choice.

“Just a bit too much?” I ask, narrowing my eyes and she looks down embarrassed. “I guess you could put on some of my clothes or something but they’re not exactly your type of thing.” I offer flatly and she nods.

“Anything will do. It’s fine.” I almost laugh to myself. Anything better do because that’s what she’s getting.