Remember This✔

Chapter Seven

Charlie sits at the back of French class with one hand covering his face and the other discreetly holding his phone underneath his desk. He has no idea what is even happening in the class, he hasn't heard anything for a while so he's assuming the teacher has given a task but he is so embroiled with his argument with Aubrey that he stopped paying attention.

They've been sending aggressive messages back and forth for a while now and although Charlie is trying to defuse her fury he isn't having much luck.

Aubrey, his girlfriend, is the most confrontational person he's ever met. She doesn't back down about anything and Charlie is usually at the butt of it. This time she is angry because he cancelled their date later in the evening and he is expecting, although not hoping, for her to turn up at his school again like yesterday.

Aubrey is twenty, almost three years older than Charlie and works full time as a barmaid downtown. She works nights which sometimes makes it hard for them to arrange dates but she always seems to have time for her friends. Then again he is no better, he's just once again bailed.

Charlie hears the door of the classroom slam closed and the roar of the students around him makes it clear the teacher has left. He can't even remember who the teacher was, some lame substitute. A man? Or was it a woman? Charlie shakes his thoughts and glances up from his phone.

All around him the students are running to different desks. Some passing notes, others giving kisses to their socially acceptable lovers. Charlie turns his phone in his hand, his attention drifting to the small, skinny boy sitting next to him who is staring at him. The boy's face is covered in pimples and he's dressed as though he's going to a business meeting after school.

"What?" Charlie says.

"Hello," the boy responds. "How are you?"

Charlie ignores him and narrows his eyes, spinning his phone in his hand as he glares so intensely that the boy eventually looks away with discomfort.

"Hi."

In the corner of his eyes Charlie sees the shape of a blonde girl with heavy make up standing over his desk. He doesn't need to look to know who it is, he is already choking from the power of her perfume. He coughs into his hand.

"Hi, Camilla," he says.

Camilla leans over his desk, her breasts slowly grazing closer to his hand as they hang out of her loose shirt. Charlie pulls his hand back.

"Listen," Camilla says. "A few of us are going to a private function tonight. It's quite an intimidate gathering, reserved for invited personnel only. How do you like the sound of that?"

"Do you know what I'd really like, Camilla?" Charlie says.

"What?"

"For you to take your only valuable assets off of my desk."

Camilla blinks in shock. She slowly straightens her body, shifting uncomfortably as she pulls her shirt higher. "I was inviting you. You don't need to be rude."

"Did I ask for the invite?"

"That isn't how they work. Jeez, what's wrong with you? Have you dumped that bitch yet?"

"You mean your sister?" Charlie narrows his eyes. "No."

"She might be my sister but she's still a bitch. You deserve a girl that can handle you."

Charlie grins. "Want to know the problem with that? You're a bitch, too."

"Whatever. So are you coming?"

"No."

Camilla stamps her foot like a child and grunts. "Why?"

"Because I'm with your sister and I don't want to spend an evening with you. Now please trot back to wherever you came from which could be next door for all I know."

It isn't the class next door, Charlie knows Camilla is in his French class, he just wants to make it clear how little he values her. He's made her angry and when Camilla is angry it's always someone else that pays for it. On her way back to her seat she aggressively knocks a bunch of papers out of a girl's hand and they scatter all over the floor. One of those papers lands next to his foot and he knows that the noble thing to do is to pick it up and take it over to her. But Charlie isn't noble, or polite, so he sits and watches as the girl scrambles the floor in search of them.

"On the floor where she belongs," Camilla shouts.

Some laugh, others like Charlie are beginning to tire of Camilla's childishness. An overweight pale girl with auburn hair joins the search on the floor and helps gather the other girl's papers. She passes them over to her and then takes her seat.

"Why did you do that?" Camilla asks her. "Don't tell me you feel sorry for rodents."

"I feel sorry for anyone that has to endure being within five miles of you," the redhead snarls.

"Excuse me?" Camilla stands from her seat, her eyes darting down to the shocked faces of her friends. "Who the hell are you?"

The redhead laughs to herself.

"No, seriously," Camilla says. "Who are you? I genuinely do not know your name like everyone else in this class. You were an actual nobody until just now."

"I'm someone that's getting tired of your crap," the redhead says. "And I'm not the only one."

"Okay, whatever helps you sleep at night. Actually I think you're already wearing it. That's your blanket right?"

"Is that the best you got? No wonder you're failing this class."

Camilla's mouth twitches. "And you're so much more intelligent are you? The fat, ugly nobody. Maybe you should focus on your diet rather than other people's business."

Charlie zones out from the argument and looks at the dark-blonde girl whose papers were scattered without meaning to. His eyes accidentally found her and now he can't look away. Everyone else is invested in the argument but not her. She is lost in something. Her head is down and her hand holds a pencil, she moves it delicately against the piece of paper on her desk. Charlie suddenly remembers her name from registration: Molly. She's quite new.

Curious, Charlie bends down and discreetly picks up the paper that flew against his foot. He studies the detailed sketch of a woman's face. The woman has shaded dark hair and has a pear-shaped face with long-eye lashes and filled out lips that are drawn to smile. The drawing is so good that Charlie can even see a resemblance between the drawing and Molly herself. Is this what she does in class? Draws herself?

He places the paper into the drawer of his desk and stares at the clock. The argument has finished from the redhead's side but Camilla is still hurling abuse her way. He hates high school, he hates the drama and the petty acts of cruelness. Sometimes he just wishes that for once the people around him could just be quiet and boring and simple.

And what with that last thought, his phone buzzes. It's Aubrey, sending another message of senseless crap that he doesn't need. If anyone can relate to Molly's need for escaping the dramatic it's Charlie. He just hasn't yet worked out where to escape to.