Chapter 4
Damn you
I shivered as the cold wind enveloped my face. The night air was cool, the sky a deep blue, stars twinkled and the moon so bright I didn’t need the streetlamps to guide me along the dark path. It wasn’t busy as I stood in the shelter of the taxi rank, waiting for the unfamiliar black vehicle. I was restless, mainly because of the fact that I’M IN ENGLAND! I felt a stab of pain erupt in my chest as I remembered Aoife, Emmy and Sam’s voices pleading me to forgive them. I’m not one to do all that forgive and forget business. I can forgive, but maybe not forget.
Their voices continued to echo in my ears as I fumbled for my phone. My hands were numb and I tapped the screen. 19:46. Shit.
Registration closed at half eight. Damn it.
Lights appeared out of no-where and I had to shield my eyes. I breathed a sigh of relief. “Where to love?” his British accent boomed as I got in the backseat. He picked up my bags and shoved them into the back of the car.
“Cambridge” I replied.
“Right-o” he said and hopped into the car.
15 minutes in the car and I could sense the small talk building up.
“So...” the cab driver started, in a weak attempt to hold a conversation. “Where you from?” I tried to ignore him and took in his features. His white hair gleamed in the moonlight but I could spot brown roots.
“Ireland” I said with a strong finality, clearly telling him to back off. I left Ireland and that means I left my past behind. I left it behind. He nodded to show he understood.
“Paddy are you?”
“I’m sorry – what?” What the hell was a Paddy?
“You’re Irish right?”
“Mhm” I gazed out of the window and hoped to avoid any further unwanted questions.
“You don’t look Irish,” he stated. Why did everyone have to point that out? I groaned, what was his problem? Why can’t he tell I don’t want to answer his damned questions? I sighed. “I was born in Ireland, my dad was Irish but m-my mam, she was uh – um -” my voice wobbled. I took a deep breath. “My mam was French”
“Was?”
“She’s dead,” I said my voice flat, I turned to the window and in the spotted, fingerprinted reflection I noticed my eyebrows were knitted close together.
“Sorry” he said as he pulled up outside a large building.
“I don’t need you pity” I snapped, my throat felt tight and dry “if I did I would’ve asked”
I handed him the money and tugged my bags out of the trunk. As I walked towards the front gates I wiped a stray tear off my face.
Josh’s P.O.V
“Gather round everyone” Francis called, gesturing to everyone around the room. I slowly walked over to him, my hands deep in my jean pockets. I ran my left hand through my newly dyed hair sluggishly, still adjusting to the bright blonde. I looked to my right and saw Jennifer chatting happily to Liam. Liam Hemsworth, my competition. His hand was placed on the small of her back and I had to redirect my eyes before my anger got the better of me. I’m not usually an angry person nor am I violent, but this is different. This is Jennifer.
