It's been two days since I moved my seven boxes into 221B Baker street. After carrying in the last box, I said “Alright. That's it.”
Betsy just looked at me. “That's it? That's only seven boxes.”
“Well, let's just say I don't have much of sentimental value and I don't keep much of what I have. I keep things that I need and will use. Things that contain memories are pointless and take up space.”
Betsy was silent.
I ducked my head and started moving my boxes to my room. The smaller one. The master is too open for me.
Betsy had class that day, so she left and I was alone to unpack. I hung up and put folded clothing away, set up things in my attached toilet, and opened my last two boxes. The rest of my books in one, notebooks and a sentimental item or two in the other.
Since I didn't have a bookcase yet, and I still don't, I just pushed the book bock in the corner. I also took the notebooks out of the second box and piled them on top of the box in the corner.
I reached into the box and pulled out a worn Teddy Bear. One of his ears is falling off, he's missing an eye, he is losing some stuffing, and he has burn marks. Teddy. Oh Teddy, Teddy, Teddy. The horrors we went through together. I kissed his fuzzy head and carefully set him on the bed, propped up by a pillow.
I had class the next day, and who knew what Betsy would be up to.
The third day, today, neither of us had class, so we just hung out and did homework. We didn't talk much.
No I'm just lying awake in my bed. I've tried to sleep, but it's just not working. I grab my mobile and check the time. Eleven thirty-eight pm.
I went to bed at eight thirty.
“Ugh!” I groan. I flip the covers off of me and immediately start shivering. My thin plaid pajama trousers and black t-shirt do nothing to keep me warm. I tip-toe out to the living room, not wanting to wake Betsy. I get halfway there and realize I forgot my notebook and pen. I dash to my room on tip-toe, and then out to the living room and curl up on the sofa, pulling a blanket over my legs.
I'm a few days behind in my journal.
I start to write, but the solid light from the lamp is bugging me, so I turn the telly on and quickly mute it. I start writing about the day I met Betsy Holmes up till now.
I look up from my writing to think and I see Betsy, frozen, like I caught her doing something she didn't want me to know about.
“Did I keep you up?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “No, don't worry. I didn't even realize you were up,” she says as she puts on her shoes and silly-looking trench coat.
Where could she be going at nearly one am?
“Where are you going?”
“London Eye Pier. Don't wait up.” She steps out. Don't wait up? She shouldn't even be leaving at this hour. She sticks her head back in the room. “Unless...do you want to come? It'll be exciting.”
I shake my head. “No. I don't need excitement.” I sigh. I need sleep. “I don't want any. I don't need adventure.” Last time I tried adventure with some excitement, I almost died.
Betsy shrugs. “If you say so,” she pokes her head back out, and then back in. “You sure? It might be dangerous.”
Definitely not. “No. I'm sure.”
“It'll help you in your classes...”
Crap. I do need help in my classes. Extra credit is always good...
