No Pills

19. Bite what's written

*Charlie's P.O.V *

"Who keeps calling me?" Sydney glares at her phone screen. "Is it the girl you're tutoring this morning?"

I frown, doubting that. She puts the phone down and consumes the watermelon cubes in front of her, mouthing between ingests. "But you said she's obsessed with you."

"No," I correct instantly, "I said she stares at me weirdly." Weirdly, because she does it as if time has stopped and she has all day to look at me, which then makes me look at her and feel a...weird way.

Syd hums to that. "Well, with the good looks you inherited from me, I guess who can blame her?"

I make a face. Nowadays, whenever Syd compliments someone, say, Sil and I, for our looks, she makes it a point to add that we get our 'ethereal' faces from her.

But, yes, we are photocopies of her, and she is ethereally attractive. She should be turning all those compliments into affirmations that she is worth more than the life she has settled for. On that thought, my head motions to her bedroom door. "How is Dan?"

She doesn't reply. She tosses me an apple. Once I have devoured the fruit, we set off. Unlike Monday, there are barely any students and cars around when Syd stops driving. Harry is nowhere to be found. He's probably still asleep by now, I think.

"Good luck with the girl then," Syd mutters as I hop out, "and don't get distracted."

*
Little did I know that I would need that good luck. This morning was rough. First, I was struggling to stifle my nerves. When I succeeded, ease began dwelling between Mia and me until she insinuated lying was ok; I am aware that my high-mindedness comes across as annoying sometimes, but that's false.

Anyway, I have decided to put all that at the back of my mind. Holding my serving tray, I focus on finding somewhere to sit.

The cafeteria is still rowdy, but - to avoid recalling this morning again - I can't spend recess at the rooftop.

I find an empty table and sit alone with my vegetable sandwich. Muffled laughter draws near to me, and then the table trembles. Shifting my earmuffs, I hear the girls now at the other end of the table talk about a musical audition. I eavesdrop a little more, after which my eyes beeline for the table Harry sat on the last time. I only see his two friends.

Maybe he's elsewhere in the school, I think, shrugging off any worry.

*

The next time I see those two, it's closing. They enter a Lamborghini and rev out of the school parking lot with no Harry in sight still.

"What are you looking at?" Syd lowers her car radio.

"Harry," I say, plopping onto the backseat. "It seems he didn't come to school or something."

Sydney rolls her eyes as I ask, "Please, can we go check his place?""

"It's probably nothing to worry about," she mutters. "Besides, didn't you say you must meet someone after school?"

This is when I groan, "Oh," because I indeed have to meet the 'photographer'. "Ok...let's call him first."

Sydney disturbs the hems of her halter-neck blouse as she yanks out her phone and dials him. She puts the call on speaker, so I hear my friend yawn while I crouch to change. (I don't want to draw attention to my casual dressing by changing in the school washroom) She asks him if he came to school, and he coughs, saying he's got a cold. When the call ends, she scoffs, "This your lazy bruv," and starts the engine.

I beg her that we should still check how he is faring until, begrudgingly, she mumbles that she'll think about it and shoos me out onto the skatepark.

I move past the wire mesh fence, onto my skateboard, and then onto the ramps.