Hello World (2 page)

I stop and
raise an eyebrow. His hair is a light brown colour, short but thick and he’s at
least a foot taller than me, possibly more. He has a sweet boyish face too,
friendly looking.

‘Look, J-
J? That’s it, just one letter?’ I frown, squinting at his name badge. He laughs
and shrugs sheepishly.

‘I don’t
like people knowing my birth name. Call me Jay.’

‘Okay,
whatever. Look Jay, you seem nice, but you don’t know a thing about me. It’s
probably easier if you just stay away.’

‘What if I
want to get to know you?’ he raises an eyebrow. The question takes me back a
little, even though it shouldn’t. Although I’d had a few friends before Alex
died, most people keep their distance from me now. ‘Let’s start with your name.
I’m Jay.’ Jay holds out his hand again.

‘Neve,’ I
answer wearily, shaking his hand.

‘Pretty
name,’ he says to himself. ‘I have to get back to work, but I’ll see you
around, ‘Kay?’

I nod
numbly before asking something I’m not too sure whether I want to know the
answer too.

‘Why?’

Jay spins
back around at my question, grinning again. ‘Because we’ve met three times now
and argued every time. If that’s not chemistry, I don’t know what is.’

Typically
for England, we get one day of the fluffy white stuff and then a week of icy
slush that soaks your shoes and socks, freezing your toes.

The next
morning, after successfully not slipping over for the fifth time in the short
distance it takes me to get to school, I eventually reach the bike shed and
lock up my bike begrudgingly. Most people hate school because they don’t like
the work or can’t be bothered. I hate school for a completely different reason.

I hook up
my headphones to my IPod and clamp them on, blasting the music loud enough that
it drowns out the meaningless babble of my peers. Most of the students have no
idea who the strange red head is, and I thank them endlessly for that.

Despite my
red hair, I try to blend into the background as much as possible, keeping my
hood up to cover the colouring. I don’t want to be seen.

It has
gotten to the point in the term when the year sevens have gone from nerdy
shorties, most of whom can fit into their own rucksack, to cocky idiots who
think they own the corridors.
 
So
because of this, I have to fight to make my way around New Heights Academy.

But like I
said, I don’t mind it too much. The younger kids scowl and stare because I am
older or because of my looks, because they are different to most other people.
After all, none of the younger kids have bright red hair. It doesn’t bother me,
because I know they are not staring or judging me because of what happened to
my best friend.

I avoid
the sixth form block as much as possible, yet can’t escape the odd run in with
my classmates. I keep my eyes fixated on the ground, squeezing them shut and
digging my nails into my palms because I
know
they are talking about me. Glancing up only confirms my suspicions as they look
away suddenly, or lower their voices even more than before. But I don’t need to
hear their whispers for it to hurt.

I’m an
outcast. I’m not wanted here. I’m not really wanted anywhere.

I hear a
familiar laugh and cast my gaze upwards as a girl I once knew heads towards me.
The laugh is so loud and high I can hear it through the noise of my headphones
and a whole new hurt starts to fill me. That’s all I seem to be nowadays, an
empty vessel that only feels complete when the cold yet hot feeling of pain
threatens to burst from its containment. The only thing I’m really certain
about.

Kai
Gelding continues to laugh, arm linked with another girl’s. I’ve never really
liked Kai, I always had an odd feeling that she hates me through that Oscar
winning fake smile of hers. The only reason we know each other is through Alex.
The only reason we put up with each other is because Alex was friends with us
both.

I always
thought Alex was a good judge of character but began to question that when he
started hanging out with Kai.

Don’t get
me wrong, she isn’t a class-A Bitch or anything, I’m sure she’s lovely. She
just seems to rub me the wrong way and I’ve never known why.

But now
I’m certain she hates me, because I have taken away her best friend too.

She
catches my gaze accidentally and makes a little startled motion at my presence,
as if she hadn’t expected me to still be around, before her features harden and
she sends me her iciest glare. Then she turns back to her friend and walks past
as if I don’t even exist.

Just like
everyone else does.

I shake my
head hopelessly, debating whether to skive off morning registration where I
would have to spend a good fifteen minutes under Kai’s unforgiving gaze or
press on to my first lesson. I will never know the real reason I choose to do
Biology at A-level. Back when I had decided to continue my studies, Alex had
still been alive, so I had given myself credit that I would have some sort of
future, and since I wasn’t allowed to only select the one option of art, I was
forced to select at least two other classes. Those two classes ended up being
Biology and Psychology.

Yes, I
think I’m crazy too.

When Alex
had died I had wanted to drop out of sixth form altogether. If Charlie and the
school hadn’t pushed me, I would have been out of here in seconds. I couldn’t
take it, the looks I got in the halls every morning, the whispers and remarks
passed around behind my back that I was never supposed to hear.

No one in
school really knows what happened; how Alex died, or the events leading up to
it. There have been all sorts of ridiculous rumours; I’d gotten pregnant with
his child and in a spontaneous moment of rage, killed him for it. Or that I’d
gotten involved with some local drug dealers and when I couldn’t pay them back
they had killed him for it.

None of
the stories were true, but there was one thing everyone knew for certain; I had
been involved. Whether I was simply the cause or the one who had ended it for
him, they didn’t know. I prayed they didn’t believe it was the latter, but
sometimes I wasn’t sure.

No one in
school knows the real story. Except one. Just one single person.

My
tormentor.

My
anonymous texter somehow knows everything, and they won’t let me forget it.

I finalise
my decision to skip morning registration and continue trudging silently to
Biology and take my seat at the back of the class, far away from everyone else.
I always like to get here early, reducing the risk of having to stand out on
display during the walk of shame every student has to face when arriving late.

I shrink
as close to the wall as I can, fading as much as possible into the shadows that
the dim classroom provides while I unload my books and pens. My phone buzzes in
the pocket of my jeans and, seeing my teacher hasn’t arrived yet, I pull it out
and grimace at the familiar number.

I know I
shouldn’t open the foul texts, but they are something I can’t ignore. I press
the
accept
button and bite my lip
nervously as I read.

Mr Finnely’s looking mighty fine today,
is all it says, but it does enough to make me want to vomit. I
look up just as my science teacher, Mr Finnely, strides into the room, barely
noticing me before sitting down in his swivel chair and focusing on his
computer.

Mr Finnely
is young, probably in his late twenties with dark hair and blue eyes. Handsome
even.

If anyone
else were to read the text, they would assume we were just two girls, giggling
over the latest, newest and hottest teacher in school. A bit of harmless fun.

But I know
the darker side to the message. I understand the sick, twisted joke.

Certain
I’m not about to throw up, I put my phone away and pull out a tattered old note
book, only about the size of my hand, and write down today’s latest message.

It seems
silly, writing down everything that causes me so much pain and keeping it so
close to me, but it’s my very own form of justice for what I’ve done. It’s why
I don’t report the text messages or get a new phone.

I do it so
that if there is ever a possibility that I forget for even a moment, I can read
it and remember. Remember the pain I have caused.

No one
knows about my notebook, not even my tormentor, and certainly not Charlie. It
is mine, and mine alone. My own private justice.

I stare
down at the pages, starting to feel numb as I read the words.

Dirty whore. Stupid little girl. Do you
know what you’ve done? Slag. You will never, ever forget what you did. Alex
didn’t deserve you, he didn’t even want you.

‘Morning,
Red.’

Much like
I had yesterday, I jump ten foot in the air at the sound of Jay’s voice.

The class
has filled up since I last looked up and a few heads turns in my direction. I
duck as much as I can in my seat, certain my cheeks are going red again.

‘What the
hell are you doing?’ I hiss, pulling him down into the seat next to me. It’s
better than having him standing up and smirking down at me, just drawing
people’s attention over to us. ‘And what’s with the whole “Red” thing? You know
my name, you don’t have to use that anymore.’

Jay
shrugs, dumping his bag on the ground. ‘Well, I like it. Plus, I’ve decided I
like annoying you, and I can tell you just
love
your new nickname,’ he winks, smugly.

I scowl.

‘Point
proven.’

‘Whatever,’
I mutter, rolling my eyes and turning my attention to the front where Mr
Finnely has just gotten up, ready to start the lesson. Beside me, I hear Jay
chuckling quietly to himself.

My mood
dampens further when we’re told that today we’ll be studying the inside of a
cow’s heart.

Now, I’m
not normally one for being squeamish. I love all the horror films and I can
take a fair amount of bloody and gory scenes. But being handed a dead heart?

‘Hey,
wouldn’t you believe it? Red’s gone green,’ Jay whispers in my ear and I have
to resist the urge to hit him.

‘Head
count; most of the class has gone green,’ I observe. ‘Are you going to be this
inappropriate throughout the whole lesson?’

‘Moi?’ he
replies innocently, pointing to himself.

‘Mr
Ellsworth.’ Mr Finnely suddenly addresses Jay. Jay visibly pales as he turns
away from me and back to the teacher. I can’t help but smirk. ‘It’s good to see
our new student settling in well but perhaps you could focus more on the board
than your new classmates.’

My smirk
drops and I feel myself going red again. My new nickname is becoming gradually
more applicable.

‘Can you
tell me, Mr Ellsworth, the function of the Baroreceptors?’

I watch as
Jay’s throat works before he smiles broadly, confidence oozing.

‘It
monitors the blood pressure, sir,’ Jay grins triumphantly.

Mr Finnely
smirks and nods.

‘Congratulations,
Mr Ellsworth. But may I suggest that in future when a teacher asks you a
question, you answer him without referring to the text book you think I can’t
see,’ he finishes before turning back to the board.

A small
eruption of laughter settles across the class and Jay shrugs.

‘Worth a
try,’ he grins, glancing down at the textbook I hadn’t even realised he had out
that was currently balanced on his lap to make room for the heart that now sits
in front of us.

I shake my
head but can’t help the small smile that plays on my lips.

I manage
to survive the lesson, more or less, and as we are packing up Jay turns to me
and says, ‘I’m working at the shop later, feel free to pop by.’ Then he winks
and walks out of the room.

Raising my
eyebrow, I watch him leave. To be honest, I would have found my way to the
coffee tonight whether he was working or not.

My
timetable consists of two free lessons, or “
study
periods"
as the teachers like to call them, so I hide myself in the
library for two hours, doodling in my sketch pad before my art lesson starts.

I like art
lessons, I don’t have to talk to the teacher much and I can just transport
myself into my own world and draw, sketch or paint for an hour.

At around
four o’clock, I pack up my things and ride over to the creatively named,
Al’s.
Jay regards me with amusement as I
walk in but I decide to ignore him, waving hello to Albert and dumping some
cash on the counter before settling in my usual seat.

I turn up
my music and close my eyes, waiting for some sort of inspiration to hit while I
tap my pencil against the pad. Opening them again, I look around me until my
eyes settle on Jay, who is too busy serving coffee to notice me.

Tilting my
head, I take in his tall masculine figure and high cheekbones. His features are
sharper and more defined than Alex’s. I had noted yesterday that he had green
eyes but the more I think about it, the more I realise they are speckled with
flakes of gold.

Absently,
my hand starts moving across the page and Jay’s face starts to take form. I
draw the basic structure and then start filling in the little details, starting
with the different flakes in his eyes. Then I add in the small, barely visible
line of freckles long his nose and the little dimples that appear whenever he
talks to customers.

This time,
when Jay appears though, I am ready for him and take my not
jumping-in-the-air-like-a-terrified-cat as a victory, quickly flipping a new
page over the drawing of Jay before he can see it.

‘Do you
ever leave?’ Jay questions, pulling a chair over.

‘Shouldn’t
you be working?’ I raise an eyebrow, hugging my sketchbook to my chest.

‘Coffee
break,’ he grins happily, holding up his own Latte. ‘So, tell me, Red, how long
have you lived around here?’

I regard
him curiously for a moment, trying to figure out whether he’s being genuine or
not.

‘For as
long as I can remember,’ I say after a moment, watching his every reaction. To
my surprise, he seems genuinely interested. ‘My parents died when I was three,
so I live with my uncle Charlie.’