Not as much as I got, though.
On Friday, I sat at my now-usual table in the library with a delicious pasta dish Chef had made me. I’d told him what was going on at school and he’d gone all red in the face and then exploded.
‘Well!’ he yelled after he had finished ranting about Ella. ‘I certainly won’t be letting you go hungry. If they won’t let you eat in the cafeteria, then you will dine like a queen in the library.’
And then he’d created the poshest lunchbox of all time, complete with a starter, main and pudding. It almost made not having any friends a good thing.
Cal had returned that book on London architecture to the library, so I had sneaked it from the shelf and started reading the chapter on the Royale. It turns out there were loads of cool facts in there, like how, when it was being built in the 1900s, one of the builders, a Mr Colin Whittle, was convinced that he kept seeing a ghost appearing from its walls. He quit his job and tried to garner support from the other workers to have the building work halted but no one believed him. He ended up begging to come back but they didn’t let him.
I couldn’t help but feel that Mr Colin Whittle and I had a lot in common, now that I too had been shunned from society. Except, you know, my situation was maybe a little less paranormal.
I was just reading the Colin Whittle story and freaking out about that time my earrings vanished into thin air – and how they may not have been eaten by Fritz as I’d thought but stolen by this ghost – when I heard footsteps come up and stop next to me. I rolled my eyes and turned to tell Cal to leave me alone, when I found myself staring up at Olly.
‘Hey.’ He pulled out the chair next to me and sat in it.
I glanced around, checking to see if this was some kind of cruel joke where Ella jumped out at me and poured a bucket of custard over my head or something, but I couldn’t see anyone else through the stacks of books.
‘It’s OK,’ he said, reading my panicked expression. ‘It’s just me.’ He gestured at my pasta. ‘That looks amazing.’
‘It is.’
‘I’m really sorry about the way Ella’s treating you,’ he said.
‘Oh.’ I relaxed, comforted that this definitely wasn’t a joke and he was here of his own accord. He was doing that being-nice thing again. ‘Don’t worry, it’s nothing to do with you.’
‘It’s not cool,’ he noted. ‘I don’t even really understand what you did wrong.’
‘That makes two of us.’ I smiled, twirling pasta on my fork.
‘She just likes the power of putting people down,’ he said bitterly. ‘I broke up with her.’
I stopped twisting my fork. ‘What?’
‘I mean, we weren’t even really going out.’ He sighed, leaning back in his chair and running his fingers through his hair. ‘I don’t even like her.’
He caught my eye and I couldn’t help but burst out laughing. He looked surprised at first but then he started laughing too.
‘Stupid, right?’
‘So stupid.’ I giggled. ‘Why were you dating someone you didn’t like?’
‘I don’t know!’
We exploded into a fresh round of laughter and then he leaned forwards and put a hand on my wrist. I had to admit that Ella was right about one thing: Olly’s eyelashes were insanely long, especially close up. And they were so neat. Framing those deep, dark eyes so perfectly. Have they always been that neat? I don’t remember his lashes being so neat.
The word ‘neat’ began to lose all meaning in my head.
‘On Monday, don’t hide in the library. Come to lunch. Sit with me.’
‘NEAT.’
OH MY GOD, WHY DOES THIS KEEP HAPPENING?
‘Neat?’ He laughed. ‘I’ve never heard you use that expression before.’
‘Uh,’ I began, ‘I’m thinking of bringing it back. Neat. It’s a good word. Don’t you think? We should use it more. Neat.’
I hate my brain.
