Walls Up (One Last Time #1)

Memory Lane

Chapter Forty Seven
Memory Lane

Haha I lied. This is a boring and short chapter too . . .

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"Melody I don't think we should do this," she puts a hand on my thigh and I entered the car.

"I need to Tal, it's the only way I'll get over him," I place my hand on the door handle.

"But," she pauses for a moment, thinking. "Don't you have another? A photocopy."

Photocopy. Photocopy, "shit!" I run back inside leaving Talia befuddled.

I rush up the stairs, skipping two at a time till I reach the top. I make a beeline towards my bag the answer within. "Ha!" I say as I spot my bag laying useless in the corner of my room.

I unzip the main pocket pouring out all its contents. "Mel what the hell are you . . ." Talia stands in the doorway, muddled.

"Aha, I found it!" I say gleefully. I pick up the photocopy Conrad made of my diary brushing off the pencil shavings and empty wrappers.

Kneeling on the ground, I stand walking beside Talia. "I told you what happened at the beginning of the semester, right?"

She nods, staring at the paper in awe. "Is that your . . ." I nod, holding it in front of me like a poster. "Your diary."

"Yup," I say, putting emphasis on the p. She takes it from my hands, flipping through the pages like a grandpa goes though the Sunday newspaper.

"Shit," she says, reading briefly at the contents. "Why would he do it?"

"I don't know, he says it was a dare; that the footballers made him do it." Talia looks at me like I'm crazy.

"Do you believe him?" She asks.

I scoff, rolling my eyes. "Not in a million years." She laughs at my response.

"What next on your Conrad list?"

"Conrad list?" I ask, she shrugs. "Next is . . . " I bite my lip looking around. "Talking to Alex," I suggest.

"No way," Talia shakes her head in protest. I ask why, "she'll just make you look bad, she has stuff she can use against you."

"Never mind then." I sigh, walking back down the stairs.

We enter the kitchen, "finally you decided to get of the couch," mum says taking out our attempt at making double-chocolate muffins. "Did you grease the pan before you poured the mixture, Mel?"

I smile sheepishly looking down at my shoes, "opps."

"Mel!" Mum exclaims. She tosses the pan onto the island pulling off her kitchen gloves. She grabs a spatula while Tal and I stand in the doorway watching mum panic.

She starts scooping out our muffins from the pan not-so-gently putting them in an empty bowl.

"Oh c'mon mum," I say, "it's just oil, let them cook."

"Too late Mel," Tal laughs eyeing mums actions. I laugh too, exiting the room behind her.

Talia plops down on the couch, as do I. "Your going to the Carnival right?" She asks.

"Yeah, you?"

"Obviously, you-know-who is going there."

"Voldemort is going to be at the carnival!" I yell jumping up and down in my seat acting excited.

She laughs and I join in. "No, Conrad." She says in between chortles.

I stick out my lower lip, "I prefer Voldemort,"

"We all do, Mel." The room grows quiet the only sounds coming from mum scraping the pan free from dried muffin mixture. After a while Talia say, "Ready?"

"For?"

"The carnival obviously."

"Why wouldn't I be? It's just a carnival." I say nervously chuckling.

"I think something more will happening," she says staring deeply in to my eyes. A little creeped out; I back away moving to sit on another couch.

"And who are you, the fortune teller?" She rolls her eyes leaning back onto the arm rest moving her legs so they lay across the couch.

"No, but I can't help but get a feeling," I roll my eyes standing up and reaching over to the coffee table picking up the remote.

She snatches the remote out of my hand, turning on the television and some comedy-drama series starts playing. I look behind me at Talia, who apparently is intrigued into this sitcom.

What feeling?

I'm probably getting paranoid, but I can't help but ask, "what feeling Tal."

She switches off the TV turning to face me. "Like a gut feeling, you know. Like when . . . " she stares around the room her eyes finally resting on the TV.

"You know when you watch those drama series and you already know what's gonna happen because it always happen in every sitcom there is?"

"Cliché?"

"Yeah, I would say predictable. But cliché is the same."

"Okay," I look about the room for a while, but my eyes always find a way to meet hers, "what's so predictable about the carnival?" She shrugs.

"Okay then," I say, a little frustrated. "What is going to happen that makes you get cold feet?"

"Cold feet is not a term I would use . . ." she's avoiding the answer. I know she is, something's going to happen tomorrow.

"Talia what the fuck do you think is going to happen tomorrow."

"I don't know! I just got 'cold feet'"

I groan loudly in frustration. "Ugh! Your so difficult," I cross my arms over my chest huffing.

"Melody," she soothes, I turn to face her and my body softens. "I'll put it in this way: what do you think will happen tomorrow?"

I look back and stare at the black blank television screen. "Shit."

---END OF CHAPTER FOURTY SIX---

Hiya. If you've read Ten Dates I just want you to know that the sequel is OUT.
- Natasha