Writing to You

Chapter 7

Ella

For some reason, I feel more connected to you, a stranger, than anyone else. If I'm being totally honest, your letter made my heart skip a few beats. No one has ever called me magical before. I wish I was there. When you were hurting. I wish I could've helped you. All this waiting in between letters is killing me. I feel like I can tell you anything, and waiting to hear back from you is too hard. Maybe we could go digital? You know, not at the mercy of the elements? 

I don't know who you are, or how old you are. I like this anonymity. Because in a way, we're so hidden that we can tell each other everything. But I'm a little worried that I'm talking to a twelve-year-old girl. I mean, I kinda know you can't be twelve. But still. I'm paranoid. 

I know you go to school, you told me that, but high school or primary school? 

I go to Southwood. I'm in year 12. I'm seventeen.

I've crossed out that line so many times. I don't know what I'm doing. I just know that I really like this, and I don't want to ruin it.

I'm sorry if I have. 

He's my age. We're in the same year. We go to the same school. 

We go to the same school.

I snap my head up and look around the field. I'm sitting under a tree at school, and the bell is about to go. What if he's here? What if he's one of the boys playing soccer, just to my right? 

No. I know he's not. They look too carefree.

My eyes flick over to Fletcher, Aaron, and Lewis. 

The biggest douchebags in our year. 

Aaron catches my eye. He looks away. 

No. It can't be him. 

I fold the letter, put it in my bag, close my eyes, and breathe. 

What the heck am I doing? Why does this feel so......right, yet totally wrong at the same time? 

I think of mum. Of how much trust she had in humanity. She would tell me that if I believe that this guy is kind and honest and that his pain is true, then there is no problem. She would tell me to trust my instincts. 

Be kind, Ella. Only kind. 

I hear her voice in my head, playing this line over and over again. 

I think of dad, probably in his office managing accounts right now. I think of what I know he would say if he knew what was going on. 

This could be anyone, Ella. Anyone. Get yourself out of this right now, before you get yourself in trouble. Even if he is who he says he is, you don't know his history. What he's done, what's happened in his life. You don't even know his name. 

Mum and dad. Tilly and David. Dead and alive. 

They're polar opposites. Dad is just an ordinary guy, and mum is-was-a woman full of life and spirit. A woman that could light up a room. 

Whose voice do I listen to? 

They're both pounding against my head.

Kindness and trust? Or logic and safety? 

"Hey," a soft, unfamiliar voice says. 

I look up. It's Noah Hunter. Shy, cautious, tentative. One of the quietest guys in our year.

He's looking down at me, his eyes full of concern. 

He's never talked to me before. 

I stand up, "Hey. Is everything okay?"

"Yeah," He looks down at the ground, "Well, I dunno. I was just...are you okay? You look kinda upset. I mean, I know we've never talked before, but.... well, I know the signs. And I wanted to make sure that everything was alright. I'm sorry, I just–this is weird."

I'm surprised. I was looking all around the field, wondering if the mystery guy could be sitting here, and I didn't even see Noah. Not that it could be him. But I didn't even notice him, and he was watching me this whole time. 

"I'm okay," I smile, and something in his eyes makes my breath hitch. It makes me want to tell him the truth. That I'm not okay. 

"Are you sure?" 

The bell goes, and I pick up my backpack. He's still waiting for an answer.

He fidgets and then starts to go, but for some reason, I don't want him to leave. 

"Wait!" He turns around, his expression questioning.

I catch up to him, "Where are you going?"

"Top floor," He says, and we merge into the stream of students. 

Some boys in year 8 rush past, hitting my shoulder hard. I bump into Noah, almost toppling over. 

He grabs my arm to steady me, and something shoots through me. Why do I feel so weird?

I chuckle, "Sorry!"

"No worries," He smiles, "Ella, right? Sorry, it's just I never see you around and I'm not sure of your name."

"Yeah, Ella Montgomery," I say, "Noah. Noah Hunter?"

He gives me a side glance. "Stalker much?"

I laugh, "Seventh grade. You were in my class. We were both loners. I tried to make friends with you, figuring that you looked the nicest out of everyone. And, frankly, everyone else already had friends."

He stops outside a door. We're on the top floor, so this must be his classroom. 

"What did I do?" He asks.

"Well," I raise my eyebrows, "If I remember correctly, I asked if I could borrow a pencil–because, you know, that was the basis of all friendships back then–and you said, and I quote, 'My pencils have my name on them. Therefore, you can't use them. Plus, I saw a pencil on your desk before. So you don't need one. And I need to do my work. ' So, I kinda got shot down."

Noah grimaces and gives a small laugh, "Oops. Sorry. I was a bit of a jerk back then."

"Hah! A bit?" I realise a large smile is planted on my face, and I don't even know how it got there. But it feels real. 

"Ok, ok, a lot. Now shut up. I feel bad." He smiles, and crosses his arms, pretending to pout like a little boy. 

I look at my feet, "Yeah, don't worry, you made up for it today. Seriously. Thanks, Noah." I look back up, and his expression has changed. I try and give a small laugh, "Six years late though!"

He's looking at me weirdly, and I was expecting him to take a stab at me for teasing him again, but he's not. The heat of his stare is almost too much.

"You never answered my question. You never told me whether you were sure or not. You know, about being okay and all." All the lightness in the air is gone, and tension is filling the space between us. 

I don't want to lie to him again, so I give him the most honest answer I can, without explaining everything. 

"I'm as close to okay as I can be right now," I hitch my backpack strap up, getting ready to leave, when my hand brushes his. Something fluttery churns in my stomach. His breath catches, and I know that he felt something–whatever that something was–too. Impulsively, my eyes lock on his and he gives me a nervous smile. 

We both turn to go to our classrooms, arriving along with the stragglers.

My cheeks are red hot, and I'm still reeling from his touch. 

**What did you guys think? Cringey? I didn't plan for Noah and Ella to meet/talk in this chapter, in fact, I planned something totally different. But it kinda just happened. Let me know if you liked it! It was extra long as well, so I hope it wasn't too boring. Over and out.**