Smashed Pianos ~ Liam Gallagher

TEMPO

Year Thirteen flood out of the front gates, cheering and shouting as people get last minute photographs with their friends and ask for others to sign their battered and graffitied uniforms. Isabella snaps a few pictures of the three of us on her believed Polaroid and slides away the results into her pocket for later, her face covered in tears and gloopy mascara.

Today has been perfect; we water bombed the teachers and one lad even brought an alpaca into school from his uncle's farm! It got to come to assembly with us but shortly afterwards the RSPCA arrived. Things got messy, and soon the police were involved.

But today wasn't totally perfect. Liam said he would try to make it in from Swansea but he didn't. I spent the whole day on tenterhooks waiting for him to appear behind me in class or casually stroll though the door ten minutes late. But he didn't.

I haven't actually seen him since he left and that was before Christmas. He phones every one in a while, but when he does it isn't for long and I can tell he can't really be bothered to talk to me, always making some excuse as to why he has to hang up, but I'm not stupid. Whenever I phone he doesn't pick up. I know that we aren't an item anymore, and we never really were. And that hurts.

"Forget about him Arden," Isabella rubs my arm as we amble our way towards the American diner for ice cream and waffles. "He's been a prick to you, move on, our lives start now!" But if our lives are starting now, then why does mine feel over?

JULY 1997

"Damon says he can't do Tuesday anymore but he can do Wednesday?" My assistant Mel tells me, staring down at her diary, long eyelashes fluttering down at the pages. I am so jealous of her eyelashes.

I shake my head, pulling myself up onto my desk and swinging my legs over the side, "It's Isabella's wedding on Wednesday." I nervously fiddle with the waistband of my yellow high waisted trousers and start to untuck my silky blue and gold blouse from the material, feeling a little constricted and hot. It's scorching today, but overly humid and stuffy too, the back of my neck damp with salty sweat.

Mel sighs, obviously feeling the heat when she brings her dark locks into a messy topknot on top of her head.

I shrug off my matching silk jacket and slip it over the back of my desk chair, mentally trying to picture my cluttered calendar in my mind.

"I can do next Friday but only in the evening if I have to, I'm planning on staying in Southampton for the day after the wedding but I can always get back earlier." I explain, sipping the last dregs of my coffee, knowing that Isabella will be fuming if I leave early. The couple aren't going on a honeymoon because of Isabella's intense job within the council; she can hardly get any time of, but instead, she was planning on staying in Southampton for a few days and asked me to stay too.

"Damon can't do Friday-"

"Okay, then we will have to cut him. He's been nothing but inconvenient."

Mel smirks at this, she hates Blur ('Anyone that names their album the same name as their band name is a wanker' is what she always says). I watch as she picks up a thick red pen and slices through Albarn's name. They're not a huge loss, August's issue is looking packed to the brim and is going to be one of the best.

"And do you still want me to send Rob to that Green Day gig tonight?"

I nod quickly, "Definitely."

Mel tidies away her things and slips the red marker back into my pen pot, but before she leaves the room I call her back, handing her a crumpled up fiver.