Lost Souls

Part 9

Skye woke up the next morning with a thumping headache. She hadn't been able to sleep all night. Turning restlessly back and forth all she could think of were his words, '...find me a soul...'

By the time she got to the school gates she could still feel her head being heavy. She yawned and pulled the strap of her bag higher. It was going to be a long day, she could feel it in her bones. 

 She placed a foot forward, and stumbled over a loose stone. She reached out and grasped the nearest object her hand landed on. It tuned out to be some sort of fabric. She clenched it tight, using every ounce of strength she had to pull herself upright. Her eyes were still on the slowly receding ground when she heard the sound of tearing and felt the fabric give slightly. Oh no! She clutched it tighter and pushed herself up quickly, just as her hand came away. She looked down at her hand frowning. There was a piece of denim caught firmly between her fingers. She frowned. Denim? Where had that come from?

She looked up, still frowning and came face to face with an angry scowl. She took a step back instinctively, and the angry features came into startling focus. It was the boy from yesterday and he didn't look happy.

'Uh, hi,' she said automatically.

The scowl did not change. He was staring at her as though waiting for something.

'Uh, can I help you?' she asked.

'You can give me back my pocket,' he said in an icy voice.

She frowned. 'Your pocket?'

His eyes flicked down to her hand and then back up to her face. She followed his gaze to see the piece of denim and then looked at him more carefully and gasped as realisation hit. He was wearing a soft denim shirt, or he would have been if the right side wasn't hanging in tatters as though an animal had clawed it to shreds.

'Oh my god!' she gasped, her hands lifting to cover her mouth, 'I mean, here.' She reached out as though to stick the denim back in place. Despite her determined efforts the pocket she had torn off refused to stick. She heard a pained sigh and glanced at his face to see him roll his eyes skywards.

'Do you really expect it to stay on?' he asked her.

She gulped, common sense prevailing finally. 'Uh, no. I'm sorry, I'll sew it back for you.' She put out her hand.

An eyebrow lifted. 'What?'

'You have to give it to me for me to mend it,' she replied almost cheerfully, it seemed like the best idea she had ever had.

He stared at her for a second. 'Do you know how much this costs?' he asked her finally.

She shook her head. 'No.'

She saw him purse his lips. 'Never mind. It's a designer shirt.'

She nodded. 'Great, if you take it off I'll mend it for you.'

'And what am I supposed to wear?' he asked her.

She hadn't quite thought about that and was at a loss for words. He sighed again. 'Forget it. Just get me a new one.'

'What?'

He had already turned away from her. He turned his head to look at her over his shoulder. 'Get me a new one, I'll send you the store details.'

'But...but...' but hehad already disappeared into the crowd of students walking through the gates,leaving her with the denim still clutched tightly in her hand.

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