I don’t run frequently, but when I do, it feels like the most freeing thing in the world.
I’m turning all my anger and sadness into a pure physical feat, while Rose Conrad blasts out of my headphones.
By the end I’m pelting home at full force.
I’m so caught up in my head I run straight into Ty as he heads out of his house.
Literally. I faceplant his chest and we both go stepping backwards onto his front lawn, and then down . . . down . . . down.
And now I’m lying on top of him on the cool autumn grass.
I freeze, staring right into his eyes. My mind goes completely blank.
‘Mind getting up?’ he says, with a small smile.
I snap back to reality, and jump off him.
‘You know, I thought we were starting to get along better. But I didn’t realise you literally wanted to knock me off my feet,’ he drawls, standing up after me.
‘This is an accident,’ I hiss.
‘Well, an apology would be nice then,’ he says, smirking at me.
‘I don’t have time for this,’ I say, my voice increasing in volume. ‘I am having a terrible day as it is.’
‘You didn’t get Rose Conrad tickets,’ he states. ‘Even with your army of people trying?’
I nod.
‘That sucks,’ he says, and he looks like he means it.
I sigh, shaking loose the tension I feel inside of me.
‘How about you?’ I say.
He shakes his head. No.
I’m glad it’s not only me who didn’t get the tickets.
‘Is that all you’re sad about?’ he says.
I inhale sharply. ‘How do you know? That I’m not just sad at the tickets?’
‘Because you look hella mad, rather than devastated. Really pulling out your Olympic sprinter for those last few hundred metres, I saw you fly down here.’
I smile and shake my head. ‘I am devastated, and kind of mad too. My best friend let me down today. He was meant to try for tickets for me . . . and didn’t.’
‘He,’ he says, crinkling his forehead. ‘So not the Black girl in the dungarees or the blonde, hippy one.’
‘What a way to describe them,’ I say, letting myself smile at him. ‘You got all of that from looking out of the window?’
‘They always look like they have your back, for sure,’ he says. He looks down at the ground. ‘I still haven’t made many friends here. Being homeschooled, moving to a new city, a new country, there’s not much opportunity.’ He gives a small laugh. ‘You feel like my closest friend, Writer, and half the time we’re hating each other’s guts.’
I feel a wave of sympathy towards him. ‘That’s only half the time.’ We both laugh. I hesitate, then say, ‘It’s the opposite with Ollie, he’s made all these new friends and is forgetting about me. I feel . . . I feel like I’m being left behind.’ Now I’m not looking at him, this choking feeling rising in my chest. ‘But it’s fine.’ I say, forcing myself to believe it, like I always do.
Ty catches my eye. ‘Is it?’ he says. He steps forwards. ‘You know it’s okay not to be okay? I was devastated when my parents told me we were going to move here. And I made it known.’
‘I’m not like that,’ I say, wringing my hands. ‘I don’t want to be a pain to anyone. I don’t like the confrontation.’
