What He Left Behind

Four

When I wake the next morning, not that I can be certain I even slept, my entire body feels heavy and lethargic. I am overwhelmed by that all too familiar sense of despair, most likely triggered by last night's events. That alone makes me want to go straight back to sleep. Unfortunately though, I don't have the luxury of being able to stay in bed all day.

I sit up and glance around Stan's room, which is covered from floor to ceiling in bass and guitar paraphernalia and various other band merchandise. It's 9am and there is no noise coming from downstairs, so I assume the guys are all still sleeping. At least that gives me a chance to sneak out without making a fuss. Clambering out of bed, I pick up my bag before going into the bathroom across the hall. I slip out of my pyjama shorts and old t-shirt I slept in and change into black jeans and an oversized comfy jumper. Then I untie my hair and run a brush through it, but quickly shove it up into a bun again when I realise how greasy it is. Before I make my escape, I listen carefully just to ensure there is still no sign of life downstairs. Thankfully there isn't. When I feel this capricious and irritable, I'm not sure I'd have the patience to tolerate anyone complaining about their hangover.

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Monday arrives and my mood, if anything, has gotten worse. I hate Charlie for inviting me to the show and I hate myself for agreeing and I hate Austin for everything. I want nothing more than to bury myself under a barricade of blankets and stay there for the foreseeable future, but that's unfortunately not an option for me. I have no choice but to pull myself together and suck it up. I take a deep breath and then get myself ready for school, repeatedly counting to ten in a half-hearted attempt to collect my thoughts.

"Noelle," my mom calls from her room. Sighing inwardly, I go downstairs to make her a cup of coffee and then take it to her room. I help her to sit up and bring the cup to her lips to let her drink from it. Days like today, I hate more than ever that I have to look after her. It pisses me off that she gets waited on when she's having a bad day (i.e. always), yet on days where I'm not feeling great, I have no choice but to suck it up and get on. Mom's quit her job and quit being a parent and quit life in general, but that's not even an option for me. No matter how bad I'm feeling, I don't have the time to fall apart.

Putting on a smile, I pick up my school bag and begin the walk to school. I don't usually mind but it's impossible to walk with any speed or enthusiasm when your whole body feels sluggish and even the slightest movement is torturous and exhausting.

When I finally reach the gates, I notice Charlie is in his usual spot across the tennis courts with his band and Tay and some other people I don't know. Despite the fact I'm a good few metres away from him, his attention snaps in my direction almost as soon as I round the corner. It's like he's hyperaware of my presence. His chocolate eyes capture mine and as much as I don't want anything to do with him, I find myself unable to break the stare.

The second he begins to stride purposefully in my direction, I snap out of it. My head is not in the right place to be speaking to anyone right now, much less Charlie. Forcing myself to move, I open the door to the school building and walk inside.

"Noelle!" Charlie calls, his voice demanding. I ignore him and carry on walking. Much to my dismay, he catches up, stepping in front of me and blocking my path.

"Can we talk?" he asks hopefully.

"There's nothing to say Charlie," I reply, an edge of finality to my voice, "I don't wish to be involved with you or what you do so I'd appreciate if you just leave me alone now."

With that, I step around him and walk quickly away, until I'm swallowed by the crowds of students in the corridor.

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