The Almost Summer

Chapter 22: Confuse, you lose♥

I try to swallow the panicky feeling that’s started to crawl its way up my throat. If this is what I’m feeling like, I don’t even want to imagine how Charlie is.

“So what should we do? Does Matty know?” I question. I’ve never seen Charlie this wound up. This was his big moment; it’s tragically unfair how everything is spiralling out of control.

“Not yet,” He whispers sheepishly, running his hand through his already mussed up hair.

“Charlie!” I hiss, shocked. “You have to tell him!”

“I know, I know…” He frowns, and I try to think of what to do.

“Right: Charlie, you have to stall them. I’ll try his phone again, maybe he didn’t have it when you rang. I’ll try and find him, he can’t have gone far.” I say, trying to sound more in control than I am. Charlie nods, already setting off for the kitchen. I think he’s just grateful someone else took the wheel.  The problem is I have no idea what to do.

I pull my phone out of my pocket, my fingers clumsily trying to unlock it. I pause, and take in a deep breath, trying to calm down. Then I try again, unlocking the phone and scrolling through my contacts searching for Lucas’s number.

The dial tone starts up, and I hear it ringing, so it must be on. I cross my fingers tightly, even though I grew out of that habit years ago. It rings several times, but then goes to voicemail.

“Hey, Lucas,” I clear my throat, trying to make my voice sound less strangled. “So we’re just wondering where you are, because we’re going to leave soon.” I take a quick glance at the clock, and realise that we’re running almost fifteen minutes late. It takes a twenty minute drive to the venue, and they need to be there for a sound check in just a few minutes less than that. “Charlie’s already called you, but then you probably know that…anyway just call me back soon, okay?”

I decide it’s no good waiting around the house, so I head out the back door to try Lucas’s parents again. Maybe he went back for something, I try to convince myself. The sun isn’t quite setting yet, but the sky has a subtle golden hue to it, and the clouds look slightly pink. The sunlight dapples the trees, making intricate designs on the rough bark.

I suck in several deep breaths, trying to think things through logically. If I were Lucas, where would I go?

Without thinking my feet are propelling me forwards, until I stand at the base of the oak tree. Peering up through the darkened branches, I can just about make out the tree house. I sigh, casting a mournful look at my nice clothes. Then I begin to climb.

For future reference: don’t climb trees in flip-flops.

At last I pull myself over the threshold of the treehouse, landing gracefully with a thump on the floor. Up here it’s darker, and I have to squint to see my surroundings. For a terrifying moment, I think I’m alone up here. But then I make out a shadow on the floor, and I breathe a sigh of relief.

“What are you doing here?”  I ask, settling down next to him.

He starts when he feels m y arm brush against his, and his eyes snap open.

“Autumn!” He exclaims, yanking his earphones out of his head and bunching them up in his fist. I can hear faint notes of music still escaping from them. They provide the soundtrack for the quiet treehouse; an orchestra composed of a lone bird, the hum of cicadas and our own quiet breaths.

“That’s me, and I know you’re going to ask me what I’m doing here,” I give him a disapproving look. “But the real question of the hour is: what exactly are you doing here?”