Playing With My Heartstrings

by Chloe Brewster

  "Great!" Tara happily exclaimed. "I'm just walking back home - so you don't have any time to pop in? Mum just made a batch of those double chocolate chip brownies you liked; remember having them at our sleepover last year?"

  I nodded, the unforgettable smell of cocoa flooding my nose. "Yeah, I devoured tons of those, didn't I?" I commented, then added, "Unfortunately, I'm already running late, but I can call you later, if you like?"

  "Sure," Tara agreed, disappointment flooding her doll-like features. "See you soon, then. Bye!"

  Tara confidentially strode into the ever-increasingly crowd, her noticeable, to-die-for hair quickly disappearing amongst the chattering mob, and I stood on the patch of grass for a second, then walked in the opposite path.

  Without any sign of a warning, I'd formed a plan.

  *************

  "Please put in 20p to proceed with your call," a male-sounding robot - who knew, it may have been a human, who was cursed with a voice as croaky and frightening as a Dalek - said, encouraging me to add yet another 20p into the telephone and dwindle my pocket money further.

  I was an idiot. Yes, an absolute idiot. What kind of ordinary teenager leaves their £200 super-duper smartphone at home when they obviously use it all the time? In the eyes of my technology-geek classmates at school, it would be worse if you left your phone in the pocket of your Dairy Milk-stained jeans at home than forgetting to study for the menacing Algebra test. Weird times, I observed, as I awaited to hear a beep on the other end of the line for the third time. I prayed that it would work.

  As the whole world - OK, not the whole world, but the bustling city that was filled to the brim of tourists and Converse-wearing kids; even three year olds had a pair! - was passing by me, I was stuck in a miniscule, barely used phone box, which stank of stale cigarettes, horrid old cans of lager and possibly urine that nearly prompted me to throw up. Lord help me.

  By the time I'd reached the end of singing an imaginary song - its lyrics that I'd prefer to not disclose - a familiar beep could be heard on the line. Yes! This was what I'd been anticipating for the last fifteen minutes or so; at last, I was starting to get somewhere. Joel may have been out with his West Ham-supporting mates or chillaxing - his favourite hobby, he once confided in me - at home, way too relaxed to get out of bed and answer the ringing phone. An apparent male trait, as realisation dawned upon me.

  "Hello?"

  I almost jumped out of my skin. How much time had passed since the beeping started? In all honesty, part of myself truly wanted to believe that the call would go to voicemail and I'd have to leave a petty message on the answer machine instead.

  Ironically, I wouldn't be left off the hook just yet.

  "Hi," I said. "I'm Sadie Thompson. Um, who is this?"

  "Hold on a sec." Having heard it a second time, I could tell that the voice was one of a young boy, who seriously sounded as though he was stuck in the Land of Boredom. Clearly holding the phone away, I faintly heard the boy yelling, "JOEL! SOMEBODY IS ON THE PHONE FOR YOU!" Even from a distance, I had to pull the phone away from my ear in order to not risk going deaf. From now on, ear muffs were definitely going to become a must-have in my handbag.

  Then the line abruptly became muffled and a fear deep inside the pit of my stomach suddenly came to life. This may have been my one and final chance to talk to my heavenly gorgeous crush and it could all go wrong within seconds. So what if I was nervous about chatting with him? My heart knew that I wanted to hear his relaxed, calm voice and words that would set off fireworks in my electrifying body.

  Despite all that he'd done to me, I regarded myself as a fool if I couldn't find the courage and bravery to offer all of the love left inside of me. I loved Joel and there was absolutely no way to deny it.

  Not that I would in the first place.

  "Hey," Joel said, a warm chuckle magically easing all of my tension into the cool summer air. "How are you?"

  I gulped. What could I say without causing offence? Somehow, bringing about a potentially massive argument in a suffocating phone box in the middle of a street ringing with the bubbly chatter of work colleagues and dramatically overdressed teenagers seemed inappropriate and wrong. As if I wanted an audience whom I'd have loved to have disappeared into thin air to witness my becoming hysterical and possibly passing out onto week old cigarette butts. And my spare change was rapidly disappearing, so not being able to afford to use the phone box was another well-meaning factor.

  "Fine, fine," I lied, spitting the words in a panicked rush. "Um, why don't we meet up somewhere, like the Rollers' Cafe?"

  Joel muttered something unintelligible under his breath, then replied, "OK. I'll see you in thirty minutes."

  "Alright, bye." I hung up, denying Joel a chance to respond and glanced through the see-through glass, watching the crowd ahead. A few of my old friends were hanging out together, laughing about falling off their cheaply-made skateboards, and generally having a great time, without any hint of worry on their lit-up faces.

  Noticing that a remarkably tall, menacing man with a long, curly beard, informally clad in a grey and black stripe tracksuit, had formed a queue outside of the phone box, I grasped my handbag tightly and opened the door, not bothering to hold it for him in case he decided to take lack of money I had left in my Paris-themed purse. In the heart of the sometimes hair-raising city, I never took any chances. Especially if I was alone.

  Turning left, I skipped down the street, careful of bumping into fellow classmates who would probably raise the topic of my resembling a haunted bride, and crossed the road towards the path leading onto the best cafe in town (as I liked to believe).

  As I neared the entrance and the scent of cappuccino cake entered my nose with uncontrollable excitement, my eager legs made the first steps into the building. Here I go. And before my gangly arms reached the handle, it occurred to me that I had nothing to lose.

  Except shopping for a nice pair of trainers.

  Chapter 7

  "Want anything else, honey?" A middle-aged woman asked me, a grin outstretched on her bright neon pink lips.

  "No, thanks," I replied as the woman placed a plate of cappuccino cake and a cup of menacingly dark coffee on the tiny, blue-tiled table. Just the way I liked it.

  "Bon appétit," she said as she walked back to the counter, her obviously very poor French accent barely disguising her strong native one, which my ears sorely strained to hear.

  Sitting in the corner furthest away from the window, I stared at my plate, littered with crumbs of heavenly-to-taste chocolate sponge and dollops of coffee cream, which made my mouth water with undeniable hunger. Even if Joel decided to not meet up with me, I guessed that I wouldn't mind too much because it gave me the perfect opportunity to eat my top-favourite cake in the greatest cafe in the whole of the county. Chocolate, I thought as I took my first oh-so-divine bite, never let me down, unlike immature, obnoxious and incomprehensible boys. Cake just wasn't complicated. Simples.

  Because I'd been magically sucked into a world of my own - clearly chocolate- and coffee-filled - I'd completely lost track of time and somehow forgot about the pending meeting, which was an absolute miracle in itself. So, imagine my surprise when I looked up from my sad-looking, empty plate - without a single crumb in sight - then saw Joel's face boring into mine, evidently waiting to talk.

  "Sorry," I said, wiping away the sure-to-be-there cocoa stains from my mouth, "I didn't see you."

  Joel grinned. "I only just got here, but I can already see how much you like the cake."

  I blushed, a nervous giggle on the horizon. "Yeah, it's my favourite."

  Joel pulled out the chair on the opposite side and sat down, his night sky blue eyes never tearing away from my own.

  "So, are you having anything?" I asked, nicely avoiding an uncomfortable silence.

  "Nah, I already had some lunch before going out."

  And before my mind processed what I was going to say, I stupidly asked, "What did you have?"

&nbs
p; Amusingly taken-aback, Joel laughed. "A bacon sandwich with a packet of cheese and onion crisps and a can of Coke." He paused, then added, "And what about you?"

  My initial fears mysteriously escaping into thin air, I casually responded, "A slice of too-good-to-be-true cake and ridiculously strong black-as-my-leather-jacket coffee," with a hint of playful sarcasm.

  "You haven't lost any of your humour, have you?" Joel said, his tone suddenly turning a lot quieter.

  I contemplated for a moment, his words saturating into my mind, then replied, "No, I don't think I have, but I don't feel the same, either," each word a humongous effort to admit.

  Stunned into a speechless stupor, Joel sank into his plastic chair and slowly rocked back and forth, guilt clearly expressed in his remorseful body language. Despite every part of me preparing to attack on my defence at any moment, my heart would've had to have been ripped out and shredded to pieces in order to not experience a single, tiny emotion of empathy for Joel. Pity the fool.

  "Sadie," Joel breathed, "I can explain to you what happened."

  "Then go ahead," I said. "I've been waiting to hear it."

  Joel sighed, anxiously flexing his man-sized fingers. "That night, I wasn't entirely honest with you, Sadie -"

  "What do you mean?" I rudely cut in, rage recklessly flickering like a candle.

  "I mean that I did the wrong thing -"

  "And what was so wrong about you did? Kissing me was a mistake?" I asked out loud, several people seated across the cafe open-mouthed at my bold statement.

  "No, no, it wasn't like that -"

  "Explain, then!"

  I wasn't messing around with Joel anymore. Not for a single second. For days, I'd been psychically sick with dread about the meeting up with him which would inevitably occur - and my reliable gut instincts had proved me right, much to my bitter disappointment. I wished that Joel could say the words that my ears longed to hear - that he'd accidently forgotten to bring some necessary medicine in his camouflaged, army-style camping bag or he'd actually gotten lost during a late-night walk in the middle of the domineering forest, which, having regained my use of common sense, seemed too unrealistic.

  Anything other than what I was certain that he was on the verge of saying.

  "Sadie, I want to let you know that I think you're an amazing girl - lots of guys dream of going out with you -" as if I'd wanted to be given a rollercoaster-soaring compliment before the heart-sinking, pleasantly-worded insult - "- and I had a great time with you during the weekend, but it was wrong for me to k-kiss you," Joel said, his voice wobbling towards the end of the sentence.

  "Why?" I wondered. "Surely you'd have to be lying if you didn't feel anything back?"

  A second-long flush of guilt flashed across Joel's stony-faced expression, once again proving my suspicions to be precise. He closed his eyes, rocking back and forward in his chair, creating an irritable creak which made my blood boil ferociously.

  "Tell me!" I pleaded. "Are you going to admit the truth or not?"

  As if he'd been stuck in a paralysing daze, Joel was brought back to life and his eyes flashed open, a blazing fire carefully concealed behind his pupils. "What is there to say?" he asked, his whisper barely audible. I leaned further across the table - my feet almost falling out of my pillar-box red Parisian-style kitten heels - and listened to Joel's next words, my heart literally inside my mouth.

  "Sadie," Joel breathed, "I had a great time with you. And before you interrupt me again -" noticing my half-open lips spilling with a sarcastic comment, Joel raised his hand in protest and I lazily sank back down into my chair with the unmistakable aura of an oh-so-disappointed cat, who'd just missed out on the last of the fish "- I need to say that I like you as a friend."

  My just-plucked bush of eyebrows raised, temptation nearly lead me to an unstoppable fit of laughter because I couldn't believe the words that my ears were hearing. Joel liked me as a friend? That couldn't have been the truth in the slightest sense. Not at all. A so-called friend (thinking about it, he didn't even deserve to be called a friend) wouldn't offer you a kiss which tasted of all the greatest things in the world - undeniable passion, which set my body alight with a heat that only love could give; sweet, romantic roses that any lover could wish of having; and, most important of all, the pure essence of love, which I genuinely believed that Joel and I shared together. As if.

  "You didn't answer my question," I coolly pointed out. "Did you feel the slightest hint of emotion when you kissed me?"

  Joel went silent and for all I cared, he looked like he'd stopped breathing, though perhaps that was my imagination trying to find something interesting to focus on. The city workers, whose confident strides in their black, I-mean-business power suits and four, or even six inch killer heels consistently turned heads across town, had left the stunned-into-silence cafe, only leaving aging pensioners and one or two teenagers of my age squeezed into the miniscule tables, staring sadly at their half-cold cups of tea and bottles of fizzy drinks. As far as I was concerned, I was all alone in a deep, black sea with no way of getting out fully intact.

  Unless I took action right at that moment.

  "What are you doing?" Joel hazily asked as he noticed my picking up my handbag and cup of lukewarm coffee, my face deliberately turned away from his.

  "I'm going home," I grunted, gritting my teeth to prevent saying what was truly floating in my aggravated-beyond-belief mind.

  "What? I only just got here!"

  "And I've been here long enough, waiting for you to give me some answers as to what happened last week," I said, loudly getting out of my chair.

  Joel grabbed my arm, his strong-as-nails grip mightily pinching the skin, and I shrieked in pain, causing a few old ladies to rudely glare at Joel, who realised what he was doing and let go, and I sighed in relief.

  "Sadie, I'm sorry -" Joel started, then I cut him off.

  "I've got no more time for you, Joel Henderson," I flatly stated, malice creeping into my stone-cold voice. "Whether you've noticed or not, I loved you since we first started primary school and you offered me one of your cookies for lunch because I didn't have any." My voice breaking, I added, "Until now."

  Looking awkward, Joel protested for his apology to be accepted, but I waved it off, not caring a single bit about what he had to tell me.

  Suddenly becoming aware of the time, I stalked over to the door, a flood of tears on the verge of hitting me any moment, then something reoccurred to me.

  "And one last thing." I said, my voice echoing in the deadly-still building - embarrassment flushed across my face as I realised that everybody was listening to my words and I dreaded to think whether any local journalists were part of the mini-audience - "Are you going out with anybody?"

  His perfectly concealed mask slipping away, Joel stammered, panic gaining control of his spluttered speech, and that was the answer I'd desperately needed. There was nothing else I wanted to know.

  "Oh, see you at school next month," I added, mostly muttering the statement to myself as I steadily opened the door and entered the warm sunshine, clouds as fluffy as whipped cream scattered all over the pale blue sky.

  In the midst of a loudly chatting crowd of teenagers, a silent stream awaiting tears - engulfed by powerful waves of sadness and hidden torment - washed over me and I kept my face low so nobody else would witness my public display of uncontrollable emotion. As if I wanted classmates in my year to take unflattering pictures of me and post them on Facebook for the whole world to poke fun about; I'd endured an extended nightmare for long enough.

  Audibly sniffing my blocked-like-a-terrible-cold nose, I pulled myself together and gazed at the sky, whose clouds had drifted away to reveal the fantastically bright blue sky beneath and the dazzling illumination from the sun shone on my clothes, as though a spotlight had suddenly highlighted me. Tears, I reminded myself, won't last forever and will disappear within time, while I slowly learn the lesson of gaining some much-wished for patience.

&nbs
p; And in spite of my deeply-low mood, I raised a sun-inspired smile, a glow lightening my tear-streamed face to its former happy-go-lucky glory.

  Chapter 8

  "Hey, haven't you noticed how nice the weather is for once?" Cassie noted, her pale, traditional English rose complexion dazzling like diamonds. "Ah," she sighed, relaxing on the soft red blanket, "I could get used to this."

  "Yeah, me too," I said, readjusting my 50s-inspired polka dot hat to avoid the sun burning my highly-sensitive untameable mane of hair.

  Cassie and I, whose relationship as fun-loving sisters had grown stronger over the past week, were spending the afternoon lying in the full-on sun in the rose-filled and vegetable-grown garden, eating a homemade picnic which mainly consisted of shop bought scotch eggs, a vibrantly coloured mixed salad, sandwiches and a ridiculously vast amount of Cassie's favourite spread, chocolate heaven Nutella. Well, all I could say was that I wasn't the kid - chocolate-flavoured cereal and spreads had fallen out of my favour long ago.