incessant

the chatter
the questions
"thankyou"'s

not one familiar face
until the hall clears

at the back
one friend
one less explanation

not one shed tear
until the hall clears

through the door
one friend
one shoulder

...

the hall was
filled with the
quiet noises of the old

bereaved saddened by the day
by the melancholy that shrugged
gently over their shoulders

loved dearly loved
by all those
brothers and sisters

never forgotten

[alone]

alone.
from outside
the mewling of a cat
provides company in the darkness

the last one was yesterday
the buzzing of the telephone interrupted her solitary sandwich
"Mary died
in her sleep. It was peaceful"
Alone
She cries into a pillow

ealier today she looked around her
quiet
still
three people joined her on the grass
the sun shone
she shivered

isolated

the last to go
slowly
steadily
she crept back to her house
to the waiting cat
the silence
alone.

Creative Writing

The funeral was.. well, a funeral. It was all (and perhaps more) that she had expected. It reduced her to tears. It moved her to laughter. Throughout the whole, her hands moved. Never still, they twisted within themselves, they tore the damp tissue in them to shreds. They vaguely re-applied make-up to water streaked eyes and cheeks. They fidgeted with her overlong hair. They fretted at the hem of her skirt. They were never stilled.
Until, for four or five seconds, they paused, hung by her sides and rested.
Whilst the casket was lowered.
Then they moved, a little twitch of her fingers and they (equipped with another ever-present hanky) were at her nose.

Looking at her, you would see nothing remarkable. She merely was. At that time there was nothing to distinguish her. Nothing that could mark her out as special, nothing to make her more important or better than the person lying in the casket. That was what struck her, her mortality. The unfairness of life. She would never know why she had escaped the hangman's noose and the other hadn't. Nothing in her being would allow her to forget the cruel hand that nature had dealt her friend, and the restlessness in her hands was only one outlet, one physical sign of her inner turmoil.

She was unable to resolve her grief. She could not understand what was happening and she couldn't resolve the conflicts within her until she understood. The problem was that she would never understand. There would never be any resolution of that kind, it was inexplicable; it was the destructive forces of nature. Of whatever she believed in. She didn't know.

The aftermath of the funeral was harder to bear. It was unnatural, the jollity and speed, the colours and noises of the world astounded her, how could they be so brash, heartless? She found functioning impossible. She couldn't connect. Her only refuge was in her room. In the memories and pictures, the collages and photos, the posters and momentoes that cluttered her walls. Within these four walls she found solace. She found, within herself, some more questions and realised she didn't need to know all the answers. Safe within the crowded walls, surrounded by the old comfortingness of her junk she was at peace.

Her peace didn't mean she was immune to surprises, to the shocks that her own room, her sanctuary, could spring on her. It was about a week after the funeral, after she found some quiet in herself, that she saw it. As she was sitting, reading a book, she glanced up. There, on the wall, almost obscured by a badly pinned poster, she saw, as if for the first time, the picture. The paper was unassuming, an the line drawing on it, more so. However they captivated her attention. Her eyes were drawn to it and she couldn't pull them away. The memories came flooding back and she reached out and pulled it from the wall. The Blu-Tack keeping it there gave it up reluctantly, and her fingers picked it off gently, taking the utmost care with the small picture. She unfurled her legs from beneath her and walked from her bed to the centre of the room. She placed the picture on the floor, searched her overlarge CD collection for a CD and put it on.

Fifty minutes later, she entwined her fingers sombrely, without thinking. It had become a matter of habit. The CD that was playing to itself quietly in the background finished. She barely noticed. The words and melodies hadn't been registering for the past few tracks anyway. Her left hand, with its scabby, bitten, unvarnished nails detached itself from the fingers of the right and reached tentatively for the piece of paper containing the line drawing, simplistic in style and composition, which rested by her left knee. It had taken her this long to work up the courage and work past her fears to actually look at the picture again. She gazed at the picture. Her blonde hair fell from behind her ear, some catching in the many earrings adorning her ears, and obscured her vision.
Not that it mattered. The picture, rustic though it was, had embedded itself in her mind. A single tear slid silently down her cheek and dampened her collar.

Normally, somethinng so small and insignificant wouldn't have the power that this scrap of paper seemed to hold over her. But this was different. This was her last momento. This was the last thing her friend had ever made for her. It was her monster. The picture wasn't flattering. It wasn't startling. It could never be called a Masterpiece, except in her head. It was imbued with celestial beauty simply because of the hands which had composed it. White hands that now rested. Forever.

Her fingers, thick and strong, curled reflexively as a multitude of thoughts scrambled through her mind. The paper scrumpled. Her hands formed angry fists on her knees, rubbing at the denim as she thought about the unfairness of life. Nature seemed to be conspiring against her, her mind cursed it, her hands showing her rage.

A sound from downstairs interrupted her reverie, she glanced at her hand and realised what she had done. It was ruined. Irreversably. The picture was crumpled and smushed, and her vain efforts to to smooth it out were to no avail. It was done. The tears followed the track forged by the first one. Faster. Her lap, cradling the ruined picture, became damp from the rain of tears.
The ink began to run.

The End (10)

Oh, crap. This is so not good. Not only do I have spew all over my best shoes, but also the tux is rented. Oh and I have the most popular girl unconscious in my arms.
Not a good evening.
" Hey, can I help?" a soft voice in my ear asked. I looked up and saw Tessa. Apparently she had lost her date too.

We eventually managed to get Jen off the dance floor, out of the hall and seated on a bench outside. After a few minutes, the cold air began to revive her…
"Where… wheresh my coatsh??" she asked groggily, attempting to stand up.
"woaw! Not so fast!" I rushed to catch her as she slumped unsteadily towards the ground. Tessa grabbed her arms and helped me pull her back up onto the seat.
"Aren’t you really bored? This can’t be much fun, go, do something better" I muttered in an aside to Tessa, half-wishing she wouldn’t go, as I was beginning to really enjoy having her around.
"No, no, I’m fine. I don’t mind helping." She had a slightly odd edge to her voice, almost wistful, slightly reproaching..
"Not that I wanted you to leave or anything" I backtracked hastily. "In fact…"
"Yes??" She interjected, when he trailed away.
"Uh, nothing…" he blushed slightly, thanking God for the cover of darkness.


It was three days after the dance before Scott got another chance to speak to Tessa. Latin was, as per usual, dull as ditchwater. Ditchwater that you had been staring at, non-stop, for the past two years. Unfortunately, Tessa had been off the day before; meaning Scott had had to suffer it all on his own. It also gave his pause for thought: namely, he really missed not having Tessa there. Revelations!! When he saw her sitting in her normal seat, he nearly fainted with relief. Instead, he walked, as normally as possible, to his desk and sat down.
"Hey, Tessa, you alright? What was wrong yesterday?? Do you need my uh... notes?" Scott got the sentence out in a bit of a rush. Tessa was flabbergasted. In all the time they’d been sitting together he was almost never the first to talk, he never mentioned her being off; didn’t seem to notice in fact, and she had NEVER borrowed his notes before. She’d seen them, they were as good as, in some places better than, hers, but that was only from over his shoulder.
"Uh, hey, Scott... uh, I was ill yesterday… thanks for asking… and, yeah, I guess your notes would be good…" Tessa paused, uncomfortable with having his chocolate brown orbs fixed intently on her face. She was unaccustomed to being the centre of any blokes attentions, much less Scott’s.
"I wanted-"
"I thought I –"
They both started speaking together,
"You go-"
"No, you-"
Scott eventually took the initiative and, motioning for her silence, said,
"Erm, I wanted to say thank you for Friday night... you didn’t have to stay, and I liked it that you did, so er, thanks…" he tailed off, blushing. " I know I was a complete fool over Jen, and you’ve been good to me through that, even though, I guess I was a bit of an idiot, and I made you listen to it all…. Sorry, I guess, uh, well, uh, I guess, I wanted to say that I am, uh, finally, over that, I think, and, uh, well, well, uh, I guess, I just wanted you to know that… " He was bright red by this time, so Tessa decided to take pity on him.
"Hey, no worries, it was, uh… fun? Listening to you… " I could do that for ever, she thought. "But, thanks and all, … I enjoyed the ball, in the main…"
"Yeah, yeah, me too" Scott interrupted quickly.
Just then, the teacher walked in, and they descended into the hell that is dry Latin verbs on a warm summers day. At least, it was the last Latin lesson, ever.

After that lesson, Scott didn’t know what to do with himself. If he didn’t seize this opportunity, he might never see this fantastic, amazing, incredible girl again. The thought seized his heart and ripped out his lungs. He gathered what remained of his courage (and his runaway vocal cords) settled his stomach, and the butterflies that had descended upon it, and walked over to where she was sitting, rereading The Mayor of Casterbridge in preparation for English.
"Uh, Tessa?" he said, quietly, unwilling to disturb her peaceful, relaxed solitude.
"Huh?… oh, hi, Scott!"
"Uh, Tessa, I was just wondering, uh, could I uh, uh, get your emailaddressornumberorsomething?"
"Sorry, Scott?" Tessa’s eyes were sparkling with laughter. How does she do that? He thought: entrance me with one look, and make me feel like the luckiest guy in the world all whilst laughing (gently) at me? "What were you saying??" she broke into his reverie.
"Uh, can I have youremail address. Or mobile. Uh, or whatever" he blushed.
She smiled, gently, astounding him with how radiant she looked; he was noticing things about her that he never had before, like that her nose crinkled a little when she really smiled. "Of course Scott, but only if I get yours?" she looked a little worried, like he might refuse. But how could he?
"Yeah. Sure." They scribbled down their respective contact information, swapped pieces of paper and stowed them safely away.

Less than a week later and Scott was about to make his move. He had been texting her daily, just little texts to remind her of his existence. Texts she had been more than happy to receive and reply to, each one sending her into little daydreams of ecstasy.
Fancy meeting up? Like... as more than just friends? He sent the message with some trepidation, but his fears were allayed, when, less than a minute later, he got a reply…
Sure… name the time and place. xxx

(9)

As she was spinning around the dance floor, with the twinkling of the disco ball reflecting in her eyes and shining through his, she could see that he, despite their differences, her eccentricities and odd past relationships, really liked her. The feelings she had for him were only beginning to really show themselves, but she was sure they would soon overwhelm her.

Scott watched Louise and Grant spinning around the dance floor. He sighed wistfully, unaware he had done so until Sarah’s sharp voice pierced his thoughts.

"Well? Aren’t you gonna ask me to dance?"

"Uh, sure. Wanna dance?" he replied half-heartedly.

Well, after he’d been forced to humiliate himself on the dance floor for a couple of songs, the rest of the ball seemed to fly past. Before he knew it, they were back in the limos and on their way to the after ball. Somewhere along the line Scott had * unintentionally * lost Sarah. The Ball had given him a pleasant afterglow, he knew he had enjoyed it, but was not quite sure. Those glimpses of Jen had been few and far between, but they had warmed his heart. The splinter, however, of jealousy that he harbored in his heart about the relationship between her and Matt was still there. The ice seemed to be melting somewhat though. The reason for this was unclear, as their relationship was as strong as ever, if not stronger.
There was one other person whom he had seen that night, and had unexpectedly dazzled him. She looked magnificent in her dress, which was a gorgeous deep purple. It had a tight fitting bodice type top, with off the shoulder sleeves which were fitted to the elbows and accentuated her slim arms. From the elbow to just past her fingertips the sleeves were flowing black lace which flared out and accentuated the length of her arms and her long pianists fingers. The top of the dress had a trim of the same black lace as her sleeves, which contrasted perfectly with her milky white skin. The bottom of her dress, from the waist where it clung slightly to her narrow hips, then flared out till it reached the floor a centimeter or two ahead of her toes was beautiful. It was made of the same purple material, just a shade darker, and had an over skirt made of the black lace, which made the purple a deeper, richer more mesmerizing colour than before. He had noticed her as she danced with her partner, a boy whom he had never seen before and yet was insanely jealous of him. Irrationally so, as Scott had never done anything or said anything that might indicate that he liked her, nor she Scott. In actuality he had never even thought of her that way.


The Limo jerked to a halt outside the after ball venue. Scott walked in and was struck by how many girls had dressed up, and then dressed down again for the after ball. Jen however was not one of these. Her dress, which had been stylishly simple to begin with had changed somewhat, but was no less dressy. The skirt had been detached and replaced by a pair of trousers. The look was elegant, but simple. Tessa was another who had not changed. The pair of them looked stunning, but for different reasons. Scott saw that Jen was alone, finally, this was his big chance! He strode confidently over to where she was standing, and with no stutter reminiscent of there last conversation, he spoke to her.

"uh, Jen? Would you care to dance?" he held his arm out as though he was a gentleman in an old film, an utterly inappropriate gesture for the setting, considering there was disco music blaring out from the speaker directly behind the table which Jen was using to prop herself up.

"eh, awight then, gis a hand woulcha, fanksh mate" she slurred as he held her upright. Upon releasing her arms she promptly fell right into his chest. It was what Scott had been wishing for… only not. She was drunk and he realized that he didn’t like her anymore. In fact he had never really liked her. He had only liked the idea of her.

" –bluergh- oh, sssshit" she slurred, having thrown up all over his trousers and shoes.

The Ball (7)

*****************Random girl*******************

"Omigod! Omigod! What am I doing? What has happened to me? Have I taken leave of my senses??? Aaargh!!!!!!"
" It’s ok! Calm! Take a chill pill girl! It’s not like it’s the end of the world, all you did was take the initiative and ask the guy you’ve liked, like FOREVER to the ball. No biggie. Although…"
"WHAT????????"
"well, there is the small thing that he is one of the most popular guys on the planet, and you’re, well, you’re… not."
"Uh huh. But, erm, when was the last time I let that bother me?" that floored her. My supposed best friend. I had thought that asking Grant was a bit ambitious, but I am not the master of randomness for nothing. [ahem] anyway, I’d done it and…. Well, he’d surprised even me with his reply, which was a quick and confident "yes! I’d love to!"

well, I had the dress, I had the guy, now I just had to wait for the actual event, which was only 29 hours, 33 minutes aaaannnd…. 18 seconds away. Boy was I getting excited!


**************** The Ball ****************


The hall was magnificently decked out with purple and ochre banners; the band was resting on the stage, looking divine. The school had decided to splash out on a * proper * band. This meant that instead of a couple of old men with wheeze boxes (accordions) and a really old keyboard; we had some young, fit men with guitars and a drum kit. We had been assured however, that they could play Scottish country, therefore the Gay Gordons and strip the willow would still grace our night.

The limousines began to pull up outside of the hotel lobby, all the passengers clutching their beautiful handmade invitations. Slowly the entrance hall began to fill up with chattering, excited teenagers, meeting for their final, grand social occasion before they began exams and then left for the big wide world, shattering old connections and forging new ones.

There were, among the number some who were unaccountably more nervous than others. This number included, amongst others, Tessa, Scott and random girl. (I feel, at this point, she should have a name. It is in fact Louise, or Lou for short.) for one reason or another (all unconnected, except by the objects of their respective thoughts; dates.) they were all fretting.

"Hey, erm, Sarah, so, how are you?" Scott managed to stutter the conversation into a start.
"Oooh!" she squealed high pitched and excitedly, "I can’t believe I’m actually here! At the ball! With a real sixth year" the last two words were whispered, but audible. "Thank you so much! Omigosh! I have dreamed of this moment for years! It’s all going to be fabulous---" Scott drowned out the rest of her girly, excited chatter, he’d forgotten how annoying his friends twin was. He was incredibly grateful that she had been going to St. Leonards for the last three years. "Won’t it??" he realized that she had asked him a question.
"What? Sorry, I just drifted for a minute there, what were you saying Sarah?"
"Oh never mind" she was clearly irritated, he could tell by her face.
"lets go in…"

Fast4ward (6)

***************Scott********************

The next two years seemed to go by in a flash. My standard grades were over before I knew what was happening, I managed to get good enough grades to do my Higher’s, but only just. Highers also went by without me knowing what had happened, all I remember is a blur of studying, studying, studying and finally exams, then freedom, for about a week or two before school started again. The summer holidays drew to a close all too soon, bringing with them my results (English, A; Maths, C+; Latin, B-; Geography, A and Int. 2 Bus Man, B+) I was pretty pleased with what I had achieved, but that was soon forgotten when I was faced with my 6th year. I had filled in and submitted my UCAS form on schedule and it was looking pretty impressive, even If I do say so myself, but now two things stood before me and the next stage of my life:

Exams…… argh!
The 6th year ball… triple argh!

My last chance with Jen would be on this night. Yes, I was still in at least lust, if not actual love with her. Over the months our date had, although not yet faded into unremembered oblivion, it was now an almost bearable memory.
In some ways I supposed it would be a good thing, a final parting of ways…. Or … or joining of ways… that is of course assuming she still knew that I existed…
I wasn’t sure as to whether she was aware of my continued existence these days, but whether or not she was; she still went out with that Matt bloke. Maybe this time she’d erm... wake up and smell the coffee?

A bloke can dream…




*********************** Jen ********************

"Omigod! What am I going to wear? Help! Ros! I need help! What the hell am I going to wear? This is like the most important night of my entire high school career and I don’t know what to wear!"

" Ok, ok, calm down! Jen! Jennifer! Calm yourself! You know exactly what you are wearing! It was delivered this morning! We just need to customise it slightly. It’ll look fabulous…"
my best friend kept chatting on about my outfit until I was calm. I gripped the phone tighter and we began discussing travel plans.

There was one week left until the ball, my stomach was in knots, it was so exciting, Matt and I were going to go out for dinner, get into a limo and drive to the school. It was going to be the most perfect night of my life!

I couldn’t believe how fast the last two years of my life had gone, I had virtually forgotten about that Scott geek, I still got the occasional twang of guilt when I thought about how badly I had been persuaded to treat him. I really hoped he’d forgotten about me. Not that it was my problem any more…


****************** Random Girl**************

"Ooooooh!" I squealed down the phone, " Deep red lace? Mmm, that sounds gorgeous!"
"’Course it does, doll face, I bought it especially for you. You don’t think I would choose you something that was anything less than spectacularly extraordinary?"
"Don’t be silly! How soon will it be here? Please say very very very soon! Please? Pretty please?" Geoffrey sighed down the transatlantic connection.
"I’ll get it Fedex’d in the morning ok sweetie?"
" Thank you! Love you!" I put the phone down on my elder brother. He was the most annoying boy in the world when he was at home, but as soon as he was in Seattle I missed him and his sarcasm like hell. I had told him about my 6th year ball a month previously to that conversation, and had immediately forgotten even mentioning it. With only a week to go, and no definite idea of what to wear, I had been pretty screwed, and then Geof had called and saved me. I owed him my life… thereabouts at least.

Now all I needed was a date…



********************* Tessa ***************

"… I remain in the shadows, growing wings… "

That was how I felt about Scott, he had never and would never notice me. I was positive he only thought of me when he thought about Latin, I was just his Latin buddy. Great. I knew everything about him, all about his unrequited love for Jen, which she totally didn’t deserve, but she had it, whilst I was sitting there, next to him, breathing in his beautiful scent, listening to all his woes, understanding him, even when no-one else did, and what do I get for it? Nothing, not even a nod in the corridor, he doesn’t ever ask me about myself, oh, we’ve occasionally talked about music (we both like AFI, and old punk bands) but he knows virtually nothing about me. I know his soul. I want to give him my soul, myself; body, soul, heart and mind, but… he won’t take it, he doesn’t even know what’s on offer. I sat in the lockers, watching for his Docs to go past. They were black and paint spattered. They had originally been cherry red, but he’d had a depressive mood and painted them black. The paint was mainly from when he had missed the floor or canvas (he painted, occasionally, in his spare time) and then, in a fit of creativity he had spattered more on. Those shoes were a statement about him, and I loved him for it.

No matter how hard I tried to get on without him, I never succeeded. In part
due to the fact that I still sat next to him in Latin, and also because I didn’t want to give up on him. I had one more chance to get him to notice me.

The 6th year ball.

I had it all planned out, I would make, with the help of my aunt, who had been a seamstress, a beautiful, breathtakingly gorgeous, stunning ballgown. I would ask him to the ball, then I would wow him with my gorgeousness, he would forget about Jen and we would dance the night away, after, of course, being crowned prom king and queen. That, obviously, was were my plan faltered, since we weren’t in America, it was highly unlikely that we would be having a prom queen, even less likely that, should we in fact have one, I would crowned.

There was another fatal flaw in my plan. Scott wouldn’t go with me. He was going with his best friend’s sister, strictly as a favour, but still… I was stranded…


Just one week to go…

Clove smoke catharsis (5)

"…You’re only there to watch me fall…."
The words of ‘Clove Smoke Catharsis’ echoed through my head. They seemed to fit my mood so exactly. Jen was only there to see me fall. She didn’t care about me, the real me, who liked obscure bands like AFI and Life House. She just wanted to see me fall into line with everyone else, all the other clones who drool over All-American Rejects, Good Charlotte (don’t get me wrong, they sing well, and they have good lyrics, at least GC do, or as far as I can tell.) and the like. She probably only liked (pop) Punk ‘cause it was fashionable. Alright, so a month ago I had been into even more obscure 80’s bands like the Cult and the Clash, and the The and the Jesus and Mary chain, but now I had modernised my tastes slightly. That didn’t mean I had to be like everyone else though, I could still be me, the freak who wore old peoples clothes (their description, not mine) and enjoy life like they did.

"… oh, and the hot Chinese guy, the one who bounced in the net, he was cool…" Alex’s words washed over my head. "… toast with green and brown sprinkles…" ! I snapped to attention,
"wha??? Green snotters?, Alex, what on earth are you talking about?"
"My superhero" was the only explanation she would give.

******random child’s POV***********

I could see that Scott wasn’t listening to a word Alex said, but then no-one really ever does. Sometimes for sanity’s sake it’s safer to block her out.
I was knackered after school, having been squashed, against my will, for several hours into a barrier at the ‘All American Rejects’ concert the previous night. It wasn’t as bad as I’d expected. Still pretty crappy, but all in all, not so bad.

I could see Scott contemplating his future relationship with Jen, which wasn’t looking too bright from where I was standing. He had about as much of a chance with her as a moth does in a fight with a candle.

He was looking rather good though.

New Narrator (4)

I was sitting on a bench by the music rooms when I saw Scott walk past. Boy did he look different! Now I always liked his smartly pressed shirt and chinos look, but I have to admit that this new look was rather good, if a little conformative. Whatever my feelings on the matter, however, were obviously of little concern in comparison to the feelings of Jen!
Before we go any further into this story, I should probably introduce myself, I am your new narrator, (although I may be replaced depending on how friendly our author needs me to be with Scott, cos I’ll be honest here, I don’t really know the guy!) my name, as far as you are concerned is random girl. I guess that’s all you really need to know. So, on we go, deeper into the conundrum that is Scott Henderson, and his fetish for the wrong girl…..

I had seen the obsession that Scott held for Jen grow over the past three and a half years, ever since he first saw her on the first day of first year. He had thought she was an angel, a goddess, you know that kinda mushy love struck pre-adolescent idolisation that goes in teen boys heads. Anyway, he was crazy bout her, only she never knew, not at any rate till bout a fortnight ago.
I was in the general vicinity when he asked her out on that ill-fated date. I could have cried for him, I really could! He made such a fool of himself, it was blatantly obvious that she didn’t really wanna go out with him, she didn’t even know his name for Pete’s sakes! Anyway, they went out, he was humiliated, blahdy blahdy blah, you know the rest.

The strange thing is, that a week after he came in, transformed, he totally toned down that look, and turned up his old one, keeping the hair and the trousers, but going back to nicer, pressed shirts, and posher shoes! The new combined look really did wonders for him, cos he looked different to everyone else, but in a really good way. Jen actually began to look twice at my old friend Scott! He had something going for him, that "X-factor" that makes people look twice. He was still wasting his time on Jen though. Stupid girl didn’t know what she was missing out on.

NonConformity

It was about a week after our shopping trip before I could muster the courage to wear my new outfit to school. I had tried them all on the comfort of my room, but I had never ventured any further with them on.
Walking along by the Quad was nerve wracking, but I was (almost) put at ease by Alex’s appearance.
"Hey, mate, looking good" Alex untangled her orange-prisoner-esque-boiler suited body from the (also orange clad) grasping hands of her janitor boyfriend, (who has an unusual obsession with her rear end) in order to greet me.
"urm, thanks Alex, soo… urm, what do you think, really?" I was dreading the answer, because Alex could most definitely be brutally honest when she so felt the inclination. (This urge was particularly strong when she hadn’t been fed recently- doughnuts, chocolate, ice cream, chocolate, iced buns and, did I mention chocolate? were the staples of her diet. I always marvelled at the fact she wasn’t huge, but then her Karate would help.)
"Yeah, cool mate, looking very good!!"
"Thanks Alex, thanks, urm, Janitor…" I had no idea how to address her boyfriend except as ‘Janitor’.

As I sauntered into my chemistry registration room, I felt a cold sweat break out on my forehead. Although I was (I hoped) outwardly cool, on the inside I was panicking, I shouldn’t be dressed like this, I looked a fool, oh god, help! But when Jen entered the room and her gaze stayed on my for a few seconds longer than usual I knew Jo had chosen wisely. My haircut was no longer new, although this was the first day I had styled it the way the hairdresser had, but it was perfectly complimented by my slightly baggy white shirt; top button (collar) undone; tie, still perfectly tied, but at a slightly lower position than usual, over the top of my brand new Road cords, which were baggy, but looked ok, not as good as my chinos, or so I thought, but evidently Jo and Jen thought differently. The haircut was the perfect addition, because although my raven black hair was naturally curly it had been cut so that it was just falling over my forehead; no more ruler straight partings for me!

After chemistry I walked out of class feeling decidedly more relaxed. I’d passed muster with Jen; well I thought I had anyway. As I walked down the corridor to my English classroom I was aware I was getting a lot more attention than I was used to. By now the stories about my "Date" had died down but I was ‘infamous’ because of it, still a loner, but people knew of me now, not for a good reason though…
Even though all the speculation had now died down, I was once again in the limelight, although not so badly, because I was less noticeable now.

I blended in.

I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing. Of course if Jen noticed me then it was a damn good thing, but if she thought I was just yet another sheep, plain boring, white and conforming then she would quickly revert to ignoring me once again. It was like that advert for the lunch box meals that wanted to be non-conforming, but all the kids immediately conformed to the meal and club rules, except this one ‘geek’ who shouts ‘non-conformist’ at the wrong time, so everyone looks at him like he’s a freak, just ‘cause he’s a non-conformist, -unlike the rest. Long analogy, but I feel like one of those kids, one of those clones now. At least before I was different, I may have been an outcast, but I wasn’t a sheep, or at least not a white one. Maybe I could work on a compromise. I didn’t really take much in at school for the rest of the day. Once I got home I shut myself in my room and thought about it all.

I went to sleep with my head buzzing, there was so much to think abut and so many options to consider, ones that I’d never thought of before, that when my head eventually hit the pillow, I was off to sleep instantly, thoughts and ideas still swarming round my head.

Change (2)

The next day at school was humiliating, it felt like everyone was staring at me as I walked down the corridor. I felt my cheeks burn ever brighter red, but eventually, as they reached their reddest shade yet, I reached my registration classroom. As I sat at the back of my chemistry classroom, (I had chosen to sit at the back 'cause I thought all the cool people, like Jen did, but sadly, in this instance I was mistaken, she sat at the front, with her best friend Ros, and Vicki) I quickly checked to see who else was there. Fortunately Ben wasn't in class yet, I knew he would be harassing me about my "Date" last night. Huh, like I was gonna think about that anymore. Although I was finding it pretty hard to forget, especially as the whole school seemed to know about it. I would rather have been stood up.

Just then my contemplations were interrupted by the arrivals of my class teacher, and then about ten minutes by the entrance of my goddess. No, I chided myself, she wasn't mine, it had all been a cruel joke, she didn't like me. Nevertheless I was unable to stop my imagination roaming, what if she didn't really like that guy, Matt, I think his name was, but she was...she was... desperately in love with me... only... Matt had more money... so she was forced to go out with him. yeah, that'd be it..

"Scott? Scott Henderson! Pay attention! Now, tell me, how many moles are there in this problem." my attention was wrenched back from Her, to the normal mundane chemistry lesson, one subject that I was bound to flunk as I had paid absolutely no attention to anything since the start of the course, two years ago. Standard Grade could go stuff itself, I had more important things on my mind, like her and how on earth I was gonna get her to dump Matt and go out with me, for real this time.

As I was walking back from Tescos, on my own, I bumped into Jo, a friend of mine who attended Dundee High, but was in St Andrews for, well actually why was she here?

"Hey Jo! What'cha doin' here??"

"Oh, hey Scott, um, well I had an orthodontists appointment, and I've got the rest of the day off now. "

"Oh."

"Hey, what've you got next period?"

"Uhhh, Games I think, yeah" I consulted the perfectly folded timetable in my top pocket, "I've got double PE next. Why?"

"Just 'cause I've got nothing to do, sooo, I was thinking you could skive PE and come to Costa's with me? Please? You look sad, maybe I could help?" Jo was angling now, she knew all about my miserable date the night before, as the first thing I'd done when I got home was to E:mail all the gory details to her.

"Well, I'm not sure, Jo, I've never skived before."

"Come on, if it makes you feel better, we'll get the bus back to my place, and Mum'll give you a lift home, ok?"

"alright" I felt like I just needed to talk to someone and Jo was the closest thing I had to a best friend, we'd grown up together, we knew each other inside out, I was at her house as much as I was my own.

Once we were settled on the couch with supplies of chocolate and crisps, I got Jo back up to speed with all that had happened within the last twelve hours.

"Sco-ott?" Jo asked in the little sing-song voice she puts on when she is about to ask you to do something you might not like.

"Yeah-es?" I replied in kind.

"Where do you buy your clothes?"

"Um, Debenhams, The Gap, Next, . " I trailed off.

" See, that's the thing, you should have at least semi-fashionable clothes since you shop there, but you don't, no offence-" she hurriedly added, "but you just aren't the most fashionable person I know, hmm, what about. ever heard of Ozzies?"

"No, well, yes, but I assumed it was some kind of, I dunno, drink or something."

"That's another thing, you never go out, ok, I propose that we take a trip into Dundee on Saturday. We can probably take back some of your stuff, I mean you look after it so well, that no-one would ever know it had been worn so, we can just say they were birthday presents, and even if we only get store credit, we can get you some more fashionable stuff, or at least, nicer stuff that what you wear just now. um, yeah, I think we should also introduce you to some other kinds of music, I mean, classical is all well and good when you're middle aged or studying or something, but really, I mean, come on, you should be into Good Charlotte, or AFI or The Foo's or the Chili's or something like that." her eyes travelled up and down my body slowly. "Yeah I reckon baggy jeans would really suit you, Roads or Criminal Damage jeans. I think they'd suit you better than these chinos, still, no offence, Scott, but I've been itching to get my hands on your wardrobe for years."

I was taken aback by the force of her assumptions, she'd obviously thought a lot about what she wanted me to look like."and get your hair cut, and." I blocked out her ramblings, and when she next had to pause to draw breath, I cut across her,"Ok, ok! I'll do whatever you suggest! I have some birthday money left, but you have to promise I get the last word in what I look like? You can supervise." A compromise, and pretty generous I thought!

By Saturday I was regretting my rash decision to let her choose clothes for me to try on. Although I had managed to get some money back from some of the shops, I wasn't prepared to be spending quite so much in one shopping trip, well maybe spree would best describe the event. I now had a new pair of Road cords for school, along with two more pairs for leisure (this used up the money I had got back from shops). Also I had two pairs of Criminal Damage jeans, and a pair of DC shoes, along with a new hoodie, and two T- shirts. By the end of this I had spent all my birthday money, plus my allowance, which I had been saving for the past two months. We still had a trip to the hairdressers to go, but this was to be her treat.

When I looked in the mirror that night, dressed in my new gear, with my new hair cut, I hardly recognised the boy reflected back at me.

Scott (1)

I could hear the swish of long, gently curled, tumbling black hair as I shuffled nervously towards her. Snippets of her divine, silky smooth voiced conversation drifted along the stale air of the corridor. I glanced up and saw her, I took courage in the fact that the rest of the corridor was deserted, except for her and four of her closest friends. I gathered my courage and stammered out her name,

"J.Jen.J.J.Jennifer" She turned around slowly and fixed her vivid green eyes on me, before saying in that gorgeous voice of hers,

"Yes?" I was paralysed, and I could see my only chance slipping away, so I tried my hardest to get the words out,

"D'yawannagooutwime?" This time her voice had a touch of exasperation to it.

"Pardon?" I tried again, more slowly this time,

"Do you want to gooutwime?" The end of my invitation was once again garbled. She turned back to her friends and they whispered for what seemed like an eternity before, suddenly, after an unexpected peal of her glorious laughter, she turned back to me and said, voice like an angel, "Sure, I'll meet you at the bus stop tonight at eight-thirty, sharp. Be there, oh, by the way, who are you?" I was so shocked I could barely get my name out,
"uh...Scott.."

The rest of the day passed in a dazed blur, all I knew was that she had said yes! As I sat on the bus I contemplated my wardrobe, dismissing each item as it flashed before my eyes, there had to be something worth wearing. I knew I would find the perfect outfit hiding just out of sight, but when I ransacked my wardrobe for it half an hour later I was, once again disappointed. After much deliberation I was ready with fifteen minutes to spare. I had eventually decided to go for my best dark blue checked shirt (that decision alone had taken me twenty-five minutes, and another ten to iron it.) I was also wearing my newest pair of light, pressed khaki slacks (this time I had only taken quarter of an hour). My hair was parted to perfection, you could use a ruler on the parting it was so straight, and I had scrubbed my face and brushed my teeth three times, just in case.

I stood at the bus stop and looked at my watch for the nth time that minute, it read 8:29. Only the second hand had moved, and that only by about five places. I heard an engine rumbling noisily past me and I glanced up at the number of the bus, 83. This was it! I reached instinctively for one of the three pens I kept in my top pocket at all times, and fiddled anxiously with it.She was descending the steps of the bus, her hair was curling past her shoulders and the jeans she wore hugged her hips like they were in love with the figure they were worn on. She was wearing a scarlet blouse that looked like it had been made for her.As I stood, stunned by the vision of loveliness standing right in front of me, I heard her voice cutting through the mists in front of my eyes,
"Hey, Scott, are you afraid of heights?" Wow! What could we be doing? I cleared my throat,
"No. why?"
"Yeah, well. your fly is!" she burst into peals of delighted laughter, as my ears got redder and I felt my face begin to burn. I fumbled for my fly, but it was still firmly in place, it had all been a joke. I wanted to join in and laugh with her, but I was humiliated.

"Hey, lover-boy, d'ya wanna go buy me a coffee now?"
"Sure" I say, trying to be all cool, but "Oh no" I pat my pockets desperately, "I think I left my money at home, I'm really sorry" I'm ruined now I think dismally.

"Hey, Lover-boy, don't get your knickers in a twist" she giggles quietly to herself

"It's the 21st century, feminism rocks." I could tell by her face that she was not, however, impressed.

The rest of the date passed in a blur, going from bad to worse. First she flirted with the coffee guy, then as we were walking down the street, all the builders wolf-whistled at her, and she, instead of being annoyed, gave them a wink and threw them a kiss. As I escorted her back to the bus station, the worst scene of the whole night unfolded in front of my eyes. I saw a guy in the distance who waved at us, or more precisely, at her. She took off towards him, and as I stood watching they embraced, the way people do in all those old movies. The way I wished she would greet me. She looked back at me with a rapturous smile and I, completely deflated, turned away, to be greeted by the sight of my bus rumbling steadily away from me. I resigned myself to an hour of sitting in the freezing cold bus shelter. Depressed I shoved my hands in my pockets and felt the smooth exterior of my wallet. I sat and watched the rain come pelting down as I thought over my failings. Why on earth would someone like her ever want to go out with a geek like me?