The Cello Duet

Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine

I duck under some wilting flowers that cling to an arch as I walk quietly around the gardens. In the drizzle, there’s something tranquil about it. The flowers aren’t closing up or being battered by harsh rain, they are just there, soaking it up. They’ll all be gone soon, leaves painted in frost and retreating away from everything as winter takes its toll.

I wouldn’t usually be out in the rain as it makes my hair frizzy, but my parents were starting to get too pushy again so I grabbed an ugly old raincoat and ran. Hopefully no one will recognise me. I’ll go back in a bit anyway. I trundle around and relive- as much as I can- Poppy’s party.

What Amelia has said was too embarrassing. She was trying to seem like she didn’t care about what people thought of her, especially people like Eliot. But secretly she does.

You can only be popular if you are really likeable, mean, cunning and ‘choosy’ all at the same time. In our school, the hierarchy is vital and we’re at the top. The queens of the school cannot afford to look weak. That’s probably all she was thinking about as she would never want to look weak.

I didn’t tell my parents what happened. How could I? They would have punished me somehow and locked me in a room for days as well.

My steps echo with splashes as I walk onwards. I turn a corner and spot my favourite bench. A hooded figure is sitting on it (despite the fact the wood is damp) wearing a similar raincoat to mine.

I’m about to continue on the trail out when suddenly he’s turning around. I see who it is too late to run.

He looks about uncertainly at first, hesitant about making eye contact. Then he stands up and walks steadily over to me as I am frozen to the spot. I should have escaped while I had the chance.

“Hi,” he said, “Jenny.”

“Hey, Eliot.”

“What are you doing here? I didn’t think you were the kind of person to…”

“Well, I am. I was getting some time away from my parents,” I counter, probably sounding hasher than I meant.

“Me too, actually.”

Neither of us are willing to bring up Poppy’s party. It was only two nights ago and I had spent the first weekend of the half term wallowing in my own self-pity. I must have been a sight and a fool.

“So, have you seen James yet?” There, he brought it up.

“Not since you punched him.”

“I can’t believe I did that.” Instead of looking proud and tough like most of my friends after a fight, he looked horror- stricken and ashamed.

“Well, thank you.”

That felt better.

He gave me a small smile. And then, “Do you want to get a coffee?”

I tilt my head. “Okay.”

I sit in a café as Eliot is in the queue. I knew I would end up in a café today. It’s such a comforting place and just sitting and watching makes everything feel normal and safe. But there is also the potential for great things to happen here like in films or books. Who knows, maybe a good-looking stranger will enter the scene and he’ll slip me his phone number on a paper napkin as he leaves. Or maybe someone will rush in, desperate for caffeine as their cellist had just dropped out of their orchestra and will pay handsomely for a last minute replacement. Or maybe a pretty girl wil come in and tell me she’s from the future and we’re meant to be friends. Maybe I’ll just walk out of here and keep walking until I find a reason to stop.