Waiting for the Sun

7. A New Friend

Being in that house, especially being there with my parents, didn’t work. I had tried all the usual things to escape reality but everything at home, in the films and the music, always brought me back to Adam. I was still numb but kept thinking of my brother alone in that hospital bed. It was an open wound and if I’d scratch it now it would surely get infected. Going back to school would hopefully get me out of this bizarre mood or at least just make me think of something else for ten minutes. There had to be one single book in this library that I hadn’t read yet. I had always wanted to read more books by the Brontë sisters but maybe I’d already read them all? In my search for the letter B I missed the person next to me and didn’t notice I had company before the soft bump woke me up.

     “Sorry,” I mumbled and kept moving towards the left side of the bookshelf.

     “Amanda?”

     The voice sounded vaguely familiar and after I turned around I realised to my disappointment that it was our favourite slutty popular girl in that ridiculously revealing uniform. Instead of giving her an answer I stared at her waiting for something like: “Does this outfit make me look fat?” Her golden mane was gathered in a freakishly high ponytail and she started to twirl the hair in one of her hands the way she’d done before attacking Mr Perfect in the cafeteria, except this time she was definitely not trying to look sexy.

     “I know we don’t know each other it’s just… I heard about your brother. That sucks big time.”

     Everyone was trying to say respectful and clichéd things like “I’m sorry for your lost”, Joe and Kit included when they came by the day after the exam, and it just made me feel empty. I hadn’t lost a fucking pair of keys. My brother was dead. ‘That sucks big time’ was a hell of a lot better description.

     “Thanks. It does suck.”

     She stood next to me and was looking at the books. If I didn’t know better I would say she was trying to find something.

     “So what are you looking for?” she asked.

     “Something by the Brontë sisters.”

     She looked at me and gave me a tiny smile.

“Dark shit.”

     After a quick scan her eyes apparently found what they were looking for.

     “This is good stuff. It’s about a kick-ass woman who gets into an abusive relationship with this real a-hole.”

     She handed me the only copy of The Tenant of Wildfell Hall and for the first time, I looked at her and not her costume. Her eyes looked warm, sincere even, and she was still smiling.

     “That sounds uplifting.”

     “No worries, everything works out in the end.”

     I stroked the dusty cover and put the book in my bag.

     “Who knew that a posh girl could give literature advice?”

     Maybe she would take offence but I didn’t care about her feelings or about being delicate. She surprised me by laughing out loud and shaking her head while her ponytail slapped her on each cheek.

     “Don’t praise me before you’ve even cracked the book.”

     “It’s Anne Brontë, how bad could it be?”

     “True that!”

     She kept on laughing while skipping down the corridor. So far school wasn’t that bad of a distraction. Suddenly she stopped laughing and turned around with a serious face.

     “I don’t wanna be rude but what the hell are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be in mourning or something?”

     I didn’t want to go into my failed attempts to escape. That was just pathetic, but mostly depressing.

     “I just didn’t wanna be alone with my thoughts.”

     I regretted it right away. I didn’t even know this perky girl’s name and we’d known each other for exactly ten seconds. To my surprise she started to nod her head.

     “I get that.”

     Was this airhead actually turning out to be sane? No one would be more surprise than I.

     “Hey if you wanna escape some more Sam’s having a party.” When she saw my desperate attempt to put a face on this name she added: “My boyfriend.”

     So Mr Perfect was a Sam. That sounded outrageously normal for someone who looked more like a Greek god than a human.

     “We’re not friends”, I said sceptically. “Why should I come?”

     She just kept on smiling and flicked her shoulders in a very nonchalant but obviously deliberate and thought-out move.

     “Come, don’t come, whatever. You should bring your hot friend you always hang ‘round with.”

     I didn’t want to hear his name and the thought of spending an evening with him wasn’t an option.

     “I have someone else in mind.”

     “Sure bring whoever. We’re gonna meet ‘round nine, give me your number and I’ll text you the address.”

     After exchanging numbers I realised that I finally had a name to the face in front of me.

     “See you Tracy.”

     I didn’t know why I wanted to go to the party at Mr Perfect’s but I just knew that it was my best bet of getting out of my own head. I took out my smartphone again and started writing a text to Jordan. hey what’s up? i was just wondering if you wanted to come to this. Way too formal. I erased and started from scratch. how’s it going? u busy tonight? Could I sound more desperate? It had to be inviting but at the same time casual. I ended up with something short and concise. im going to this party tonight u should come. Within a minute he gave a short and concise answer. Why? Always the charmer. because i’ll be there. This time I had to wait for ten minutes before the phone vibrated in my hand. Where is it?