And there's also 'To him that hath shall be given.' After all, you must have a capacity to receive, or even omnipotence can't give. Perhaps your own passion temporarily destroys the capacity.
~C.S Lewis
By the time next Monday rolled around, I was able to return to school. I text Chris the second I woke up, informing him to meet me at the usual place and time. After over a week holed up in my room with hardly anything to eat or anyone to talk to, I was itching to get back into normal human life, and get back on track with my school work.
My journey to meet Chris was unsteady to say the least; the cold air felt foreign to me and left me in a state of dizziness. Despite this setback, I made it without fainting once.
Our walk to school was quiet and uneventful. Chris agreed without question to help me catch up with my work. Then silence. Comfortable silence, but silence.
My day was relentlessly long. I was still weak and tired from my diagnosed stomach bug, and found it hard to concentrate on my work.
Chris stayed with me at break and assisted me with my English catch-up. That lovable idiot skipped his drama assignment for me. At lunch, he disappeared to eat and I stayed alone, the thought of food disgusting me. The library was empty apart from the librarian, Miss O'Donald, who would glance at me over her glasses every few minutes to ensure I wasn't on my phone or eating, both of which were prohibited in my school library.
Halfway through the fourty five minutes of my lunch break, and twenty two questions into my algebra worksheet, the double doors swung open and my form teacher, Miss Jackson, appeared, holding an overly large pile of books. Her delicate arms looked ready to snap under the weight, and I could barely see her eyes over the monstrous pile. Without hesitation, I abandoned my work and leaped up to assist her, scooping the books from her arms and setting them on a nearby table. She stretched her arms out with a grateful smile.
"Thank you, Phil! I was just about to drop them, thank goodness you came to help."
"It's okay, Miss." I mumbled.
"So, are you feeling better now? You were off for quite a while."
"Yes, thank you, miss. I had a stomach bug, but my Dad was there to look after me, so it was fine. I'm feeling much better now."
Miss Jackson raised her eyebrows at me.
"Your Dad, Phil? Wasn't he at work?"
I paused, and swallowed uncomfortably. What had I done? I couldn't just tell a schoolteacher that my father was jobless. She was, however,a kind and trustworthy schoolteacher; what harm could it do?
"Um, no, Miss Jackson. You see, he's been... Laid off from work? His company couldn't afford to... Keep him on..." I had no idea what I was saying, but it must have been vaguely correct because Miss Jackson nodded sympathetically and patted me on the shoulder.
"So money will be difficult for a while then... You know, you could help out, Phil."
I shrugged. Me, help out? Please.
"The art teacher, Mrs Howell, is in desperate need of a babysitter. She has a second job as a counsellor, which is predominantly evening hours. Her teenage son is away at boarding school, so there is nobody home to look after her two little girls. She's been leaving them with her neighbours, but she doesn't really know them enough not to constantly worry. She'd be willing to pay you, I'm sure."
My mouth hung open. Me, babysitting? I could hardly interact with people my own age, let alone younger than me!
But, we did need the money...
"I'll do it, yes!" I blurted, the words spilling from my mouth before I could stop them. Miss Jackson beamed at me and took her bag off her shoulder, beginning to put half the books in.
"Excellent! When do you next have art?"
"Tomorrow."
"You can arrange it with her then! Good luck, Phil."
She zipped up her bag, picked up the remaining books, and smiled at me one last time before turning away. I watched as she had a quick word with Miss O'Donald, and then left the room quietly.
Remembering my work, I returned to my seat. I was vaguely excited to arrange the details with Mrs Howell and get to work. This could be such an amazing thing, I felt it in my soul.
A/N
As I write this it is 4:10am and I haven't slept. I can hear the birds starting the morning call and there's just a snippet of yellow highlighting the horizon. The night is over yet the morning is not quite here. The street below my window is bare, and dappled with frost.
Holy cow, no wonder I'm inspired.
I'll publish this later on and the magic will be over, but it's here how let me tell you
Songs I listened to:
I had a major p!atd marathon so these are all by them:
Always
The Ballad Of Mona Lisa
Can't Fight Against The Youth
Casual Affair
Collar Full
The End Of All Things
Far Too Young To Die
Girl That You Love
Girls/Girls/Boys
Hurricane
I Write Sins Not Tragedies
Let's Kill Tonight
Memories
Mercenary
Miss Jackson
Nicotine
Nine In The Afternoon
Damn
Cheerio, chumplings
~Georgina
Find me:
Twitter: ThisIsGeorgieXo
Tumblr: sugarcanellamas
Instagram: assemblingphilosophies
Collab acc: KnivesAndPens_xo
Update: looking back on this a/n as I publish it and literally wtf
YOU ARE READING
Polaroid (A Phan AU)
FanfictionThe polaroid photo - people say if you shake it, it will develop faster, but in truth it just ruins it. Phil is a working class, geeky, lonely boy toddling through life with his camera. When his family falls on hard times, he is forced out of his b...
