Blake and Aimee

Chapter 25: Aimee

Monday morning. English.

"Alright students, as you already know your English drafts are due today." A chorus of mumbles and groans throughout the room. Mr Reed continues. "Tut tut I have given you plenty of notice and plenty of reminders." He proceeds to pace around the room collecting everyone's drafts. I lean over to Blake.

"Hey did you get yours done?" Blake smiles sideways at me.

"Yes, in fact I did, just finished last night."

"Nice, how many words?" He crunches up his face, thinking.

"Ah, gosh I don't know. Last time I checked it about 850 ish. You?" I fiddle with my feet on the floor and whisper so no one else hears.

"1458, exactly."

"1458! Shit Aimee!" Well that caught everyone's attention.

"Language Mr Sullivan." Blake winces.

"Nice Blake, real subtle." I roll my eyes at him as he shrugs his shoulders and shoots me an apologetic look.

"But how is it so long?" Finally remembering to whisper he says, "We both did the same poem and I was struggling to get to the 800 mark, how the hell did you get 1500 words?" I shrug my shoulders in reply.

"I don't know, it's easy to write heaps when it's something you are passionate about. When you look at it from different perspectives you can unlock meanings that you never thought were there, I guess I am just overly-analytical that's all. Seeing the dice from all sides." Blake crunches up his face again but this time from confusion.

"What the hell does "Seeing the dice from all sides" mean?" Trying not to draw any more attention I talk under my breath, more quietly than before.

"It's a metaphor, for exploring all viewpoints and perspectives of a particular matter. Seeing something for what it really is," I look over at Blake, his face expressionless, almost content, "not just what can be seen at a first glance." Blake thinks for a moment then rips a corner of his page and rolls it into a small cylinder, before sticking it in his mouth.

"It's a metaphor." Oh my god. Augustus Waters. John Green. He just referenced John Green. He just referenced one of my favourite authors of all bloody time how could he have guessed that?

"How do you know The Fault in Our Stars?" He laughs and swivels his chair to face me.

"Thought you would get that reference. My Ma got me to watch it as 'positive reinforcement' for my condition, trying to get me to feel optimistic about my cancer. Of course, she didn't know that the guy died in the end... And in case you were wondering, when I came to your house I saw a stack of John Green books on your desk. I can be observant you know." I shake my head and smile in amazement and disbelief.

"He's a wallflower... You see things. You keep quiet about them and you understand."

"What?" I sigh.

"Perks of Being a Wallflower," I sigh, it was worth a shot I suppose, "watch it." I look down at my book and begin writing notes from the board, "I have a strong feeling that you will like it."

...

I didn't have anymore classes with Blake for that day. When he had History I had Maths, when I had History he had IT. And I don't know what he has fourth period, but I have Drama. So, we sat with each other at lunch as usual. He kept asking me what I wanted for my birthday, I kept telling him not to worry about it. That his company was enough of a present to me. He said he wouldn't have it, that he had to get me something whether I liked it or not. Fair enough I suppose, I would say the same. I told him then if he had to get me something, to give me something from the heart. You should have seen his face. The perfect combination of astonishment and the urge to vomit.

"A gift from the heart. Are you serious Aimee? What are you, my grandmother?"

"That's not what I mean, I'm not saying go make a nice little card for my using glitter flue and stickers. I'm just saying that people make too big a deal of the monetary value of a gift; the more expensive, the more meaningful. But its just not the case. Anyone can go and buy some girl earrings or a necklace without thinking. The best gifts are the ones were the person as gone to great depths to find something that has... history I guess, despite how much it cost. I don't know I probably sound crazy and completely high maintenance." He smiles faintly but doesn't speak for a moment.

"No, I think I understand. You don't want a gift that is cliché, that everyone would think to give you. Like you said, anyone can go to the store and buy earrings for a girl but thousands of girls could be wearing the exact pair of earrings. When you think about it, it really doesn't mean much when put into perspective." He looks over at me, his pale blue eyes in reflection, "You want something that has depth, history, a story to tell." A stare at him in amazement, for the first time I feel I have finally met someone who finally understand me fully, its an odd feeling really. I almost feel transparent, like he can see right through me, like he can see everything that makes me who I am and how I think. I smile as I realise, he understands me. Amazing.