ClaireI'd emptied the entire contents of my wardrobe onto my bed, searching for the perfect, 'non-date, just friends' outfit, I sorted everything into categories, pants, jeans, skirts, tees and dresses, hoping that something would stand out to me but it had been a full half hour of just staring at my clothes, time was getting away from me and if I didn't pick something soon I'd run the risk of going on the non-date in my school uniform.I needed help and fast, so I decided to FaceTime Jupiter, and when she answered on the first ring, I could tell straight away, she had been expecting this call. Ever since I told her I was going to the movies with Andy, she had been bombarding me with advice, some of which was helpful, like conversational starters, in case we got stuck in the land of awkward silence."I'm freaking out," I exclaim, panning my camera over the pile of clothing on my bed. "This is everything I own, and I have no idea what to wear.""Hmm, you want to keep it casual, so I'd
ClaireI had learnt, a long time ago, that when it came to Andrew Stephenson, I had to lower my expectations in order to avoid being disappointed by him. What I wanted him to do and what he would do were never going to be the same. I'd been here before with him, waiting around for him to offer up an explanation, but as time dragged on, I soon realised that his silence was the only explanation he felt I deserved.It took me a long time to move past that pain. I was only 12 years old, and I didn't understand why my best friend stopped talking to me, but he could still be friends with my brother? But every time I tried to talk to him, he would answer me with a grunt of disinterest. I allowed him to occupy my thoughts, long after the hurt had faded, wondering if I'd ever get the answer I needed.What made matters worse was that our families were close; our parents worked at the same school together, so there was really no escape from seeing him. Every birthday we celebrated, he was there,
AndyI'd opened up to Dad about Pia, about our entire relationship, the good parts in the beginning, the fights we had about the most stupid thing, the night she was assaulted and the downward spiral it pushed her into. The more I talked, the easier it became just to let it all out. Dad, to his credit, wasn't acting like a counsellor but more like the father I'd been seeking for so many months.I thought talking about Pia would relieve the heaviness that had been sitting on my chest since yesterday, but instead, it was replaced with a new, guilty weight that was holding me down, what I'd done to Claire. I couldn't tell Dad about the kiss, or my behaviour afterwards, he'd not only crucify me, but I lived in fear that he'd tell Sam, who would more than likely skin me alive for hurting his only daughter.I needed to talk to someone, though, to confess my wrongdoing and get sage advice on how to salvage the friendship before it was too late, and there was only one person I trusted, who I
AndyAmelia Spandel was a year below me at Claremont. We used to catch the same bus every day, until I got my licence. We weren't friends, but I knew her well enough. Everyone at Claremont knows Amelia, the popular girl with the brightest smile, who greets her friends with hugs at the school gate and who is part of making every Claremont High social event worthy of wanting to attend, even by me, the boy who had zero school spirit.Amelia isn't your usual bitchy, popular girl, far from it, actually. She's genuinely nice to everyone and not just because she's trying to use people just to get ahead, unlike others. With Amelia, what you see is what you get: a sweet, caring soul. She's one of the only students who sat and talked with Pia after she was assaulted, who convinced her to finally come forward, and now Amelia was the one who needed support.The short car ride over to the Spandel house was filled with awkward silence. Dad and I hadn't really spoken about what happened yesterday.
ClaireI'd never really understood why people listen to songs about relationship break-ups when they're going through a break-up themselves. I always wondered why anyone would choose to make themselves more depressed with the same song on repeat. Now I understand completely, thanks to Andrew Stephenson and his lips, the harrowing song I'd had playing on repeat, since he drove me home from the park without a word uttered between us, was speaking volumes to the crushing agony inside my chest.I didn't ask for him to kiss me but I wasn't going to stop him either, I never asked for him to take up space inside my head but there he was, consuming my every thought, the good thoughts from the way his tongue felt as he swept it against my own so naturally, to the bad thoughts of him telling me that the kiss, my very first kiss ever, was a mistake. He stole my first kiss out from under me and left me feeling ashamed and embarrassed.Even if I was terrible at kissing, surely there would have bee
AndyI open the passenger side door, and she gets in without a word. When I sit down in the driver's seat, I feel her eyes burning into me, and I don't know why, but a part of me loves that I have her attention, her curiosity delights me, and her purity fascinates me. She's spent her whole life being the good girl, never straying from the path, but wanting to, she needs to learn that a little trouble can make life interesting."You get one question, just one, so make it a good one." I permit her because I can sense she's going to burst if she doesn't get the answers she's been seeking as to why I just randomly showed up at her place, especially since I made such a huge deal about not being able to work on the assignment today because I have counselling with my dad.Silence fills the air as we drive, I thought for sure she'd jump straight to 'where are we going?' or "why did you ditch counselling?' but the longer she takes the more I sense that she has a deeper desire to get to the cor