The Boy With The Hopeless Dreams

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Because Friday was the last day of term, I’d decided that I deserved a lie-in on Saturday.  Sam hadn’t texted me yesterday and it was now mid-afternoon on Saturday and still no word from him.  Of course, I was beginning to get worried, but I decided not to trouble myself too much with it; he was a big boy now… The Jaxon Starr gig was starting in a few hours and there was nothing I wanted to do less than spend two hours standing amongst sweaty strangers, listening to a crappy ‘singer’. 

        Amy arrived at five in typical Amy fashion: letting herself in and calling in her annoyingly loud voice.

“Good afternoon, Lily and family!”

I heard my mum’s vague reply and the sound of Mac cheering joyfully at the arrival of her “best friend in the world ever”.  Amy sprinted up the stairs and bounded into my room.  Her excitement was evident, her cheeks were rosy and her breath was coming in quick sharp bursts.

“You ready to get ready for tonight?” she said, far too loudly. I groaned.

“Do we have to go?”

She gave me a stern look and cocked an eyebrow.

“Yes. Now stop complaining. We have approximately-” she checked her watch. “-two hours to get ready. Let’s go!”

“Two hours?! I’ll be ready in about ten minutes!” I protested. She scoffed.

“If you’re ready in ten minutes, there’s no way in hell that you’ll look anywhere near as good as you could.”

“Gee, thanks, bud.”

Amy smiled.

“No problem. Now, what are you going to wear?”

We spent the next forty-five minutes searching through my wardrobe and drawers, trying to find something for me to wear. Personally, I was okay with a t-shirt and jeans, but no, that wasn’t nearly glamorous enough. Eventually, Amy had decided that I was wearing: a sparkly, low-necked top and black leggings, paired with a leather jacket and Converse. Not the most comfortable outfit, but it was what satisfied Amy, so I went along with it. She had already decided what she was going to wear and I was annoyed when I saw that it was more conservative than my outfit: skin-tight jeans, an old band top and wedges.

“Do I look good?” Amy asked, doing a twirl. “Or do I look great?”

“You look marvellous, Ames,” I giggled.  Butterflies erupted in my stomach unexpectedly. “I don’t want to go…”

Amy sighed and shook her head, but gave no answer.

I groaned loudly and flopped onto the bed. Amy was adding the finishing touches to her makeup when my phone began to ring. I rolled over and checked the caller ID: Sam. It had rung four times when Amy exclaimed, “Are you going to answer that?! Jesus…”

I reluctantly did as I was told.

“What do you want, Sam?” I spat. I heard a scoff.

“Woah, careful there, Banbury, don’t want to sound impolite, do we?” he said, only slightly irritated.

“You weren’t at school, you haven’t texted me and,” I lowered my voice. “And I know you’ve seen Harvey. I’ve got every right to be annoyed.”

There was a silence and when Sam spoke again, irritation was now very obvious in his voice.

“Who told you I’d seen him?”

I hesitated.
“It doesn’t matter. What were you doing?”

“I was… telling him I was done.”