All Aboard

Part Twelve

Nav

Nav felt as if he'd forged a bridge between himself and Chloe, but it was made of lollypop sticks and string, so he had to tread really carefully or the whole thing would just crumble.

The fragile bridge had just disintegrated as he'd inched forward too quickly and lost her.

He stared out of the window and tapped his fingers on his leg, counting each time he felt the tip of his fingers and thumb on his jeans, finishing on his middle finger. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven.

How long had they been on the bus now? Half an hour? Three hours? His phone said 7.48 which must have been the time that he got on the bus. Not knowing what the real time was made him feel uncomfortable, like he was climbing a spiral staircase that ended where it began.

Nav wondered who was going to be at his stop. Should I get off on my own or should I ask someone to go with me when it's my turn? he wondered. He didn't want the others to think he couldn't cope by himself, but then he didn't want them to think he thought he was better than them because he didn't need anyone. But who would he ask anyway? Chloe was definitely out (Ttotal disaster, he thought). He didn't want to ask any of the other girls in case they got the wrong idea. So that left Dan or Barney. He didn't really know Dan well enough to invite him on a trip to his heart's desire, and the way Barney had been acting, there was no way Nav wanted to be alone with him.

Chloe ran a hand through her hair. The glossy strands cascaded against each other and then settled again, impossibly shiny in the dim light of the bus. She really did have beautiful hair, as well as beautiful everything else. Once again, Nav had a desire to smell it, to see if it smelled as good as it looked, like strawberries and freshly washed towels.

Nobody had spoken since Lazlo had lost it with Barney and the quiet was pressing down on Nav's shoulders. Nav was starting to worry that he'd have to have a word with Barney because being on the bus with him was like traveling with a hand grenade rolling around the floor. The way he had to cause grief at every turn of every conversation couldn't make Barney a happy person, surely? What did he gain from it? Did he enjoy making people feel like shit? Every time he opened his mouth or leered at Mikaela, he was just making everyone uncomfortable.

He was making Nav uncomfortable.

Nav wondered again who would be at his stop. His stomach lurched as the little voice in his head, the one that was always pointing out how he'd messed up, told him to stop wondering because he knew it would be his uncle. He could visualise him jumping up from one of those little benches they have in bus shelters, demanding to know why Nav had done what he'd done, why he hadn't tried harder.

All the oxygen on the bus had gone, sucked up by the others, leaving stale, fetid, second-hand air in its place. Heat pulsated from Nav's stomach up to his cheeks. The pizza was sitting heavily in his stomach, churning with acid and the Weetabix he'd had for breakfast. He was going to be sick. Nav was going to be sick, and he was going to have to ask Lazlo to stop the bus and they would all turn and look at him and wonder what was wrong.

He closed his eyes, the gentle thud thud thud of his fingers tapping against the seat punctuating his thoughts as they raced around his head. He gulped down the stagnant bus air in an attempt to stop the spewy feeling in his stomach but it just made his head spin.

He glanced at the pizza that had been the catalyst for his disastrous conversation with Chloe (could she hear him breathing? Was it annoying her? Did his breath smell?). The sight of the greasy pizza on the seat made him feel even sicker. He needed to get off the bus. He needed clean air, but if he moved he was going to spew. He was going to spew, all over himself, and all over Chloe.