“Life’s a pain in the ass,” he’d said. “But, if it ever gets too hard, look for the trees. They seem to be better philosophers than any of us will ever be.”
A cryptic message, but now when I look back on his words, they make sense in a twisted way. Under a tree had been where Ash found me, where I made my decision. And ultimately, under a tree had been where my life both ended and begun.
*****
“The Bell Jar, huh?” Ash remarks, letting himself into the room. He glances at the cover of the book I’m reading. “Isn’t that about some girl who goes crazy and tries to kill herself?”
I snap my book shut, not bothering to mark the page. “She’s depressed, not crazy,” I mutter. “And I know it’s not your type of thing, but don’t you dare judge me.”
“Don’t worry, I’ve learnt my lesson. I still have bruises from the last time I pissed you off.” He sits on my bed, setting down a jar filled with multi-coloured blobs between us.
“What’s in there?” I ask.
He grins. “Jelly beans.”
“Jelly beans?”
“Jelly beans.” I stare at him in confusion, wondering at the randomness. Should I even ask? I peer through the glass at the brightly coloured beans, marvelling at how artificial they look. “You know what jelly beans are, right?” He asks in an ‘if-you-say-no-I’ll-never-let-you-live-it-down’ sort of voice.
“Of course,” I say. “Bean-shaped blobs of compressed sugar and artificial flavouring.”
He nods along in agreement. “A.K.A pure genius.” He grabs the jar and unscrews the top, tipping out a few of the beans into his palm.
“You’re not seriously going to eat those are you?” I ask distastefully, but he’s already thrown all of them into his mouth at once as though taking tablets.
“Hmm...coffee, eggs, green tea and bubblegum,” he declares.
“Green tea?” I repeat. “What kind of sweets are these?” I inspect the jar. ‘New and improved every flavour jelly beans’ stands out in bright red font, along with the ingredients and nutritional information below it. “Do you even realise how much sugar and artificial flavouring is in this stuff?”
He rudely snatches the jar back and tips the contents onto the bedspread between us. A hundred rainbow beans shower the duvet, clattering against each other, sounding like the rain. “Have some,” he offers.
“Are you kidding?” I scoff in outrage, eyeing the beans in contempt. “Those things are so unhealthy!”
“So?”
“So I’m not letting them anywhere near my body!”
“Seriously, live a little,” he rolls his eyes. “I know they’re unhealthy, but just man up and try one. You might like it.” Then, to demonstrate, he chooses a bright red bean and pops it into his mouth. “Cherry,” he says after a moment. I continue to glare childishly. “Want me to feed you? Or can you do that yourself?”
“Fine!” I give in, practically snarling. “I’ll try one.” I choose another bright red one, almost certain that it will be cherry flavoured. Oh how wrong I am. I choke at the scorching heat that burns my tongue and makes my eyes water, forcing myself to swallow the bean. I feel the horrible burning sensation travelling down my throat, causing me to cough and splutter.
“Bad luck,” he smirks. I look up at him and try my best to glare through my watery eyes.
“Horseradish,” I splutter. He only sniggers, taking another bean and popping it into his mouth.
“Mmm Coconut,” he mumbles. I angrily cross my arms, glowering at him. When he notices, he just shrugs. “What can I say? It’s a gift.”
I sigh in defeat. “And obviously I don’t have it.”
*****
I find myself panting down at my old, broken trainers as I jog to keep up with Ash. He had suggested venturing outside and it had seemed like relief at the time, freedom from imprisonment in my room staring up at the same boring ceiling. However, as much as I had wanted to go out and do something, pointless exercise wasn’t what I had in mind.
“Why the hurry?” I finally ask after a few silent minutes of this. My legs are starting to ache and it is getting harder to breathe, just goes to show how unfit I am.
“Hmm? Can’t keep up?” He turns to look at me struggling behind him and slows his pace. “Better?” he asks silkily. I don’t even bother answering.
We’re back in the meadow, because apparently Cleadon village is surrounded by them and everyone here must be descended from farmers because they all have a weird obsession with them. The sky is smudged and wisps of grey dance across the white ceiling. There’s no crickets today, and their absence makes me sad. Maybe they’ve moved on, to somewhere warmer. I don’t blame them. Subconsciously I bury my hands into the folds of my grey sweater. I’m the one who matches the weather today.
“So where are we-” I start, in some attempt to break the silence, but I’m quickly cut off when I walk straight into Ash. I stumble back in surprise to see that he has stopped walking and is now standing rigidly still, eyes fixed on something in the distance. “Huh?”
I follow his gaze and then I see them.
A few feet away two boys and a girl are stepping over a dead log, coming out of the shadows of some nearby trees and sauntering towards us. They have seen us and as I watch curiously, Ash takes a step in front of me.
“Who are they?” I ask quietly, tearing my eyes away from the small group and focusing on him. His whole demeanour has changed completely. He is standing in a protective stance, back stiff and expression cold.
“Looks like Jason,” he replies, squinting. “Kate, Jason and...oh great, Ben Hastle.”
“You know them?”
“Yes, unfortunately.”
It doesn’t take long for the group to reach us. The first boy – the obvious leader of the group – has an infuriatingly smug look on his face, half hidden by a mop of scraggily blond hair. His eyes, scrutinising and icy blue, linger on me for a moment, before darting away. “Ash,” he greets haughtily.
“Ben,” Ash fakes a pleasant smile. “It’s been a while.”
“So it has.” Ben’s eyes roam over me again in curiosity. I resist the urge to squirm as he judges me silently. “I see you’ve got a friend with you.”
“Your girlfriend?” the girl asks, directing the question at Ash. She’s small with a slender frame and ebony curls that rest past her shoulders.
“She’s not my girlfriend,” Ash glares.
Ben ignores him, turning to address me instead. “What’s your name?”
“Hope,” I reply, hearing a disapproving scoff from Kate who seems to be not-so-discreetly inspecting the disastrous attempt at my hair.
“Really, Ash,” Ben cocks an eyebrow. “This was the best you could get? I thought you were popular with the girls.”
“For the last time she’s not my girlfriend,” Ash growls, jaw clenched. “And even if she were, she’d be better than any of those giggling, fake girls that hang off your arm. At least she has a personality, something which I can’t say the same about for you.”
“Ooh, touchy,” Ben sneers. “Sorry, did I strike a nerve there?”
“No, but I’ll strike one of your -,”
But before Ash can finish his threat, Ben suddenly diverts his attention to me. “So if you’re not his girlfriend, what are you to him? His cousin or something?”
“We’re friends, that’s all,” I say.
“Then where did you come from? I’ve never seen you before.”
“It’s none of your business.”
“Why so secretive?” he raises an eyebrow, looking between us. “I’m just curious, that’s all. You can’t blame me for that.”
“She said it’s none of your business,” Ash glares, tone menacing. “So piss off.”
“What are you going to do if I don’t?” Ash doesn’t answer, he doesn’t have one. Ben smirks victoriously. “Hmph, you shouldn’t make threats you can’t back up.”
For a moment, there is a long and deafening stillness. It
’s a silent stand-off. I wait, tense with anticipation, for something to happen; for someone to throw the first punch, for a fight to start. But it never does.
Ben scoffs in contempt, turning away. “I didn’t come here to fight you, Ash.”
“Why? Scared you’ll lose?”
“Not today,” is all he says. Then, he gestures for the other two to follow as he begins to walk back in the opposite direction, towards the end of the meadow and Cleadon Creek. But just before he does so, he sends me another one of those looks. I’m not sure if it’s a malicious look or not and I can’t figure out what it means, but it makes me uncomfortable.
“We should go,” Ash mutters beside me. I meet his gaze, trying to ignore the anger still clouding his eyes.
“Where to?”
“Home, obviously.” He starts walking back the way we came, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jacket. I ‘m completely bemused.
"Wait up!" I call, jogging to catch up. He hardly acknowledges me as I fall into pace with him, face still stone hard. We walk in an uncomfortable silence. It’s highly unlikely that he’s going to speak, so I find myself deliberating the best thing to say. Asking about the recent encounter is quickly ruled out by one look at his stony eyes.
"So, nice day, isn't it?"
"There's rain coming," he says blandly. I look up to see large, menacing grey clouds rolling in at an alarming rate, heavy with water. The mounting army prepares for its onslaught against the earth below. It has already taken the sun prisoner among an accumulation of slate grey mass. I wonder how long it will be before the rest of the world surrenders too.
"Let’s try and get back before it starts,” I suggest. He nods but doesn't bother saying anything to my surprise. I try a few more times to strike up conversation as we walk, but I’m resolutely shot down every time. It’s annoying, and I wonder briefly if this is how he feels when I’m the one sulking.
“What the hell is up with you?” I finally ask bluntly, stopping.
“Nothing.”
I scoff. “Sure. Then you won’t mind telling me all about Ben Hastle and how you know him.”
“What’s there to tell? He’s a jerk.”
“I think there’s more to it than that.”
“Think what you want,” he says dismissively. He turns away from me again, starting to walk, but I quickly catch his wrist.
“How do you know him?”
He sighs, shaking away my hand. “Tell me,” he says. “Why should I tell you anything about my personal life, when you refuse to tell me anything about yours?”
It’s a good point. I resort to glaring, because what he says is logical and I know I have no right to press for answers that I myself won’t give. “Fine, then,” I deflate. “Then…are you okay?”
“I’m fine.”
My irritation eventually manifests into a scowl. “I’m trying to be nice here. Can’t you at least make an effort to cooperate?”
He chuckles lightly. “You’re not trying to be nice, you’re just curious.”
“It’s the same for you, though.”
“Yes, but at least I admit it.”
“Jerk.”
“Joy-killer.”
“Moron.”
“Scrumpling.”
“What?”
“It’s a derogatory term for an annoying person shorter than yourself.”
I laugh. “Now you’re just making up words? You’re losing your touch.”
He smiles back, and I’m almost relieved to see it. “I’d like to see you try and do better.”
The moment’s ruined when the first few droplets of rain arrive. Soon it begins to drizzle, sprinkling us with cold water. Looking up I see a large slate spectre circling the meadow, casting a dark shadow across the swaying grass. "It's raining," I state, grinning up at the sky. As if hearing me, the light drizzle quickly worsens, the rain drops coming down harder and faster.
"I like the rain," he says.
“So do I.” I like the sound it makes, I like how it feels and I like how it smells. I still remember, because it was raining that day as well.
I can hear the slamming of the door ringing in my ears again, can feel the first torrent of rain soaking through my clothes as I run and run, lungs burning and legs ready to give out beneath me. I can feel the crisp wind again, whipping through my hair and attempting to tackle me to the ground. I can taste the salty mix of tears and rainwater on my lips, see the miles of grassland and barren roads as I stumble on, vision blurry.
Running away feels like a lifetime ago, but I know it hasn’t been that long. Sometimes, I wonder if I did the right thing. I wonder what they think, if they care. I wonder if it was just a heat-of-the-moment impulse, or if it was meant to happen. I don’t believe in fate but things happen for a reason, don’t they? Otherwise, Ash wouldn't have found me. No one would have found me. Maybe this is my second chance, to make things right or at least make me right.
I watch him, his head tilted back and his tongue lolling out of his mouth as he attempts to catch the raindrops on it. His clothes are soaking wet and his hair is plastered to his face, but he doesn't care. There is a goofy smile on his face and when I see it I can't help but smile too, even if it is a little sadly. How much I wish I could be like him.
"The rain tastes kinda salty," he declares, suddenly back in that good mood he’s always in. He notices me watching him and beckons me over, grinning like an idiot, everything somehow forgotten in a matter of minutes.
You see, that's the thing about Ash. That's the one factor that makes us so different. He's innocent, immature and naïve. Ironically, he’s also like a tree. No matter how strong the wind is, they always stand firm. Compared to him, I’m just a measly dandelion. That is why we will never be able to understand each other completely. We live in two separate worlds. But sometimes, the line between those two worlds blur. Like now, for example. There’s nothing between us in this moment, no walls or barriers or prejudices.
We are just two equally insignificant points on the world as we stand there, drenched and cold, in the rain.
Chapter 9: I won’t make your mistakes anymore
Jenny has found a new job. It’s a surprise. Both Ash and I stare at her in bemusement when she flounces through the door carrying shopping bags and announces it happily.
“Starting tomorrow, I’m going to be working in the ‘Phase eight’ shop just down in the high street, as a sales assistant.”
Ash gapes for a moment, before his mouth snaps shut again. “You’ve got a job?” is all he can say, still in shock.
“Yes. It’s very exciting, don’t you think?”
“What is ‘Phase eight’ anyway?” I ask.
“A clothes shop,” she replies. “It’s quite an expensive place, but it’s aimed at middle aged people.”
I wonder if this is what Jenny meant by ‘soul-searching’. I decide to shrug off the matter and smile for her, because she seems to be happy about it anyway. Ash, on the other hand…
“You’re going to be out all day?” he looks horrified. “What am I going to do for the next four weeks? What about lunch?”
Her smile fades into a guilty frown. “I’m sorry, dear, but we really need the money,” she explains. “And besides, you two will have each other for company.” You’ve got to be kidding…
He sends her an, if possible, even more horrified look and sounds almost scared to ask the next question: “And lunch…?”
She pats him on the shoulder consolingly. “You can go out to eat, or make yourself a sandwich, I’m sure you’ll manage.”
He still looks unsure, as though the thought of skipping lunch is unthinkable, but eventually lets out a defeated sigh. “Fine, I guess.” He pauses. “What time do you leave and get back?”
“I leave at eight thirty in the morning and should get back at about six.”
“You’re starting tomorrow?”
Cold Water Page 9