Living in London

murder-cake

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When I was in high-school used to look at the kids-the loners, some liked to call them- who sat by themselves in the courtyard. They'd just happily sit there and eat their lunch alone or read a book or go to the library. I used to look at them and wonder; why don't all the loners join forces and sir together? I'm sure they would all get along. I mean, wouldn't you be upset to just sit by yourself when you're surrounded by groups of people?

But now that I look back, maybe those 'loners' were the only ones who actually had the right idea. They had it all worked out, they had us all worked out. Those kids never had to worry about being backstabbed; never had to worry that the minute they got up to go to the bathroom, their 'friends' began to talk crap about them. They never had to feel that spread of anxiousness when they realized that they had to make all the effort when it came to catching up on weekends. They never would have felt like their friends secretly hated them.

I think back now and I regret all the cruel things I'd though about them. I used to think that they were weird, stupid, socially awkward. They weren't any of those things though. They were just smart.

After taking a quick walk when I left the Nook, I returned to the apartment feeling considerably calmer. I hoped that the atmosphere there wouldn't be too tense or I might yell at someone or dropkick a wall.

No I do not have anger-management issues, but thank you very much for your concern.

I felt guilt tugging at the back of my mind when I thought about how I'd been gone for four hours without telling the boys where. I mean, I'm sure Danielle told Liam she was with me, or Tasha told Niall, but I should have had the decency to at least name a place when I left.

After all, they were only looking out for me by snooping- I mean checking- the creepy text message.

I sighed and unlocked the door, hoping they weren't too angry with me.

"We're sorry, Ariadne!" the boys chorused, the second I opened the door.

Oh dear God, what the heck is this?

There were balloons and steamers covering almost every surface and there was a huge Happy Birthday banner hanging on the wall, but 'Happy Birthday!' had been crossed out and 'We're Sorry!' had been scribbled above it.

They're so creative, my boys.

"We're really sorry, Ariadne, for doing what we did. To make it up for you, I made you a cake filled with rainbows and apologies," Louis said, brandishing a big, square cake on a wheelie table.

"Er... you made it?" I asked, looking hesitantly at it. The icing was thick and muddy-grey, and the phrase 'WE LOVE YOU SO THEREFORE YOU MUST ACCEPT OUR SINCERE APOLOGIES' was crammed onto the top in murky writing icing.

I swear they went out of their way just to use the longest words they could. It's almost like they were trying to run out of room (which they did; 'apologies' was squashed in the bottom right corner of the cake-top.)

"Yep," Louis said proudly in reply to my question. "Specially for you!"

I smiled and hugged him. "Sorry for getting so mad before," I said quietly.

I felt him shrug. "You had every right to be mad. Cut the cake."

I let go of him and picked up the knife. I had to press down very hard to get the knife through it, but eventually I made it to the bottom. The problem then, though, was that I couldn't pull the knife back out.

"Lou, what did you put in this icing? It feels like superglue."

He shrugged and began listing ingredients. "Water, sugar, food-colour, icing sugar, that grey powder we found under the sink, p-"