The Budding Roses

Mr Bryan is dead!

Friday 17th December
It had all started going so well again only for this to happen. We must be cursed. Mr Bryan is dead! To be fair I don't even know who he is, was, and was only alerted to his presence, or more correctly lack of, when Natasha hurled in to the Common Room hysterical. Now all I'm feeling is a concoction of grief and guilt for the passing of someone I didn't even know existed.
'He was the best teacher ever.' Harry had stared like a numbed puppy.
'I didn't even know he was your teacher?'
'Economics Simone. I told you about him all the time but you obviously weren't listening, probably because you were wittering on about how you and Natasha are wearing the same nail polish or something.'
'Shut up, I'd never talk about something rubbish as nail polish.' I glanced at my nails.
'He was only 25 Simone. 25! He could have been my brother.'
'Well Uncle, maybe?' I corrected.
'Stop being so pedantic Simone.' Natasha butted in. 'Can't you see that Harry's upset. We all are, apart from you it would seem.' God she's such a cow, and since when does Natasha know what pedantic means?
'She's right Simone; I don't think you get it.' Harry winced.

Thursday 23rd December
I've not heard from him for three days now, and so something must have happened. This is categorically not me being obsessive, he's had an accident and is lying wounded, forgotten amongst a snowstorm.
I should just call him, to check that he's okay; otherwise I'm not going to stop thinking about it. But if I call him and he's busy having a good time the last thing he'll want is some annoying girl checking up on him. It is the holidays after all; he's probably just at a family party or something. Stop with this, I'm not just "some annoying girl"; I'm his girlfriend, after all. Okay, so I'm not too sure if this has ever actually been formally re-established, but I definitely used to be his girlfriend, because he went out of his way to ask me, but this time he hasn't brought it up the way he did before, or maybe it's just assumed the second time around?
"I, Harry Styles, hereby certify, that you, Simone Rose, are my girlfriend, and as such I will keep you notified of my whereabouts, activities and dietary intake at all times."
That's what I should have instructed him to state as soon as he sat back down next to me in Brambles; that way at least he'd be morally obliged to let me know that he isn't in intensive care and tied up to a beeping monitor with a pipe feeding him through his nose.

Tuesday 28th December
What an embarrassment I am for having acted so needily, but at last I have heard from Harry. He's fine, brilliant in fact. He's just been busy having the time of his life with 'all the boys' at Christmas. Of course I'm pleased that he isn't dead and is enjoying himself, but I can't help but notice that he didn't really seem to want to talk to me.
Maybe this is just my neuroses going into overdrive again, but it's just the way he kept breaking off our conversation to talk to Niall. Since when has Niall Horan been more interesting than me? I must stop with this immediately; I'm turning in to a pathetic insecure flake worse than Natasha. No wonder Harry doesn't want to talk to me anymore, even I don't want to talk to me.

Saturday 1st January
Hurrah, I can't stop smiling; my wonderful Harry has agreed to see me! This is the best New Year's Day ever. I'm going to meet him at seven o'clock outside the cinema, and I'm going to hug him and love him and comfort him, and make all the pain he's been feeling this past month just disappear in a poof with one touch of my warm hand and kind heart, and then once I've restored him I'm going to snog his face off and touch his arms and stroke his hair, and just devour the lingering smell of his 'Davidhoff Cool Water'. What bliss.