Wishes you Regret

The Party

Evan and I were definitely the closest of us four. But when I was thirteen, I fell in love with him.

It started with telltale little signs: a tingling when he touched me, general love at the thought of him, immense worry if he was slightly hurt, but gradually grew. However, I knew what this meant. He wasn't interested in me, the year-younger-best-friend. If I let him know, then he wouldn't be my friend, which I needed. So, I suffered through him telling me about all his girlfriends, and how they loved the band that he, Josh and Pete had started. They were looking for a singer, he told me.

Anyway, I grew harsh towards him unintentionally. This resulted in a fall out, after which I was so distraught that I didn't eat more than half a meal a day, and never spoke or smiled. My parents were invited to a big get together with every single relative everyone had invited. As I was moping, they decided to send me down two days early. Before this, though, it was my birthday. The only thing I could think as I blew out the candles was 'anything for Evan and me to be a couple. Anything at all!'

I was sent to Scotland, as planned, two days early, where my cousins and I tidied and cooked and worked. My aunt believed that work took away your problems. It didn't work.

The day came when my family (and the rest of our enormously spread relations) where scheduled to arrive. Everything was beautiful, perfect, and we had tons of wood for a bonfire that night. We were set. And it was perfect, as I came out of my shell of misery for that night. We lit the bonfire after a very pleasant day, full of fun, and that's where everything went wrong.