London Prep

by Dodd, Jillian

  “Speaking of being busy,” Harry interjects, “has Noah gotten a chance to tell you about Naomi’s birthday party tomorrow night?”

  I hide my smile, knowing exactly what he’s doing.

  “Naomi Fleming?” Helen asks, perking up.

  “Mmhmm,” Harry confirms, taking another bite of his biscuit. “She sent out invitations. I’m sure Noah got one.”

  “Oh, dear,” she comments, her hands going to her cheeks. “Leave it to Noah to forget to tell me something as important as that.”

  “I figured as much. Well, obviously, we have to go. And Mallory as well,” Harry says, not looking up from his teacup.

  “Oh my,” Helen comments, glancing at me. “Of course Mallory will have to go. It isn’t ideal, being a Wednesday night, but you have to be there as well.”

  Harry looks at me, his eyes sparkling as he shoots me a discreet wink, urging me on.

  “Naomi did invite me at school today,” I confirm, shrugging my shoulders. I don’t want to lie to Helen.

  I take a sip of tea to be polite. It reminds me of really watered-down coffee. It’s bland already, and I can’t imagine what it would taste like with milk and sugar added in.

  “Well, of course she did.” Helen smiles at me, almost proudly. “She’s the sweetest girl. Everyone just adores her, and her family is very well known.”

  “The girls are having a sleepover after. Not sure what it is about women, getting ready before, hanging out after.” Harry laughs, almost saying the words to himself.

  Helen purses her lips. “You’ll have to stay then, Mallory,” she confirms, taking another sip of tea.

  “Really?” I ask.

  Harry looks at me, just as shocked, and then we both turn to Helen.

  “If that’s what the girls are doing, you need to be a part of it.”

  “Social obligations,” Harry agrees, but he shakes his head like he’s disappointed at the truth of his statement.

  I narrow my eyes in on him, wondering if he might crack.

  “Do you know what to wear?” Helen questions, looking a little more frantic.

  I start to reply, but Harry cuts me off, “You could always phone Olivia’s mum and find out.”

  “Oh,” Helen says, taking in a big breath. “Sorry, dear, but you’ll have to talk with the girls and find out the general plan of things. Olivia’s mum is rather chatty. But if we have to get you something from the shops, we can.”

  I’m about to take another sip of disgusting tea when both Helen and Harry turn to me. Harry looks amused.

  “No, that’s all right. I brought dresses for stuff like this, just in case.”

  Helen nods. “That’s a relief. I’m sure we would have managed because you’ve got an adorable figure. But things like this shouldn’t be rushed,” she says, polishing off the cup and pouring herself another. “Anywho, next time, I’ll make sure Noah lets me know with plenty of advance notice, so we have time to shop and prepare.”

  “Yeah, that sounds good.”

  I am surprised by how invested she is in me going to the party. I’m also surprised at how right Harry was about it. Helen really doesn’t want to talk to Olivia’s mom, she really does care that we go to the party, and she wants us dressed appropriately.

  “Noah,” Harry says, grabbing my attention.

  I turn, finding Noah standing in the entrance to the kitchen, his backpack over one shoulder, a duffel over the other. He’s in his football uniform, and it catches me off guard. He looks so different in it than he does in his school uniform. His shirt is pulled tight across his chest, and his hair is going in all different directions. He looks flushed and tired.

  But still very attractive.

  “Hey,” he says, looking between the two of us and then to his mom.

  When his gaze comes back to mine, he narrows it in on me. I mimic his look, trying to get him off my case. Even now, he’s looking at me suspiciously.

  “Come on, Noah. Let’s go play a round of FIFA,” Harry says, getting up from the table. “Thanks for the tea, Mrs. Williams.” Harry smiles at her, but as he rounds the corner to go upstairs, he turns back, giving me a wink.

  “I’m glad you’re going tomorrow night,” Helen comments.

  “Me too. Most everyone’s been nice at school,” I admit, leaving out the Olivia drama.

  “These things always take time. I remember being the new girl in school. I was from a different country. Looked different.” She smiles, reminiscing. “It can be hard but exciting. I’m proud of Mia for having done the exchange. And I think you should be proud of yourself too.”

  “Wow,” I say, taken aback. “Thank you. Honestly, I didn’t want to come. My parents were the ones pushing for it.”

  “Why didn’t you?” she asks, studying me.

  “I don’t know. I guess I was just happy at home. I don’t really agree with the whole you have to travel to find yourself thing. I know who I am, what I want for my future. I guess I just didn’t see the point.”

  “It can be hard to try new things. But I hope it’s a good experience for you.” She nods, tilting her head at me. “And if you need help deciding on what to wear tomorrow night, well, I’m here.” She gets up and pats me on the shoulder. Then, she cleans out Harry’s teacup before moving back into the living room.

  Her words leave me feeling sentimental and a little homesick. Because it’s something that I would have done with my mom if I were home. Go buy a new dress for a party or birthday. We would get lunch and enjoy spending the afternoon together. I decide once I actually figure out what I’m supposed to wear tomorrow night, I’ll send my mom a few options. Let her help me narrow it down. And then Helen can be the deciding voice with accessories and shoes.

  I head upstairs, stopping to peek in on the boys. Both Harry and Noah are sprawled out across Noah’s bed, their elbows pressing into the mattress, controllers in hand. Part of me wants to go in, but I close the door, leaving them alone. Noah looks happy, and I haven’t really been alone in a while.

  And neither have they.

  I decide to let them have their boy time while I shower. As I strip off Noah’s clothes, I can’t believe Helen didn’t say something about my attire.

  After a nice warm shower, I wrap a towel around myself and peek my head out into the hallway. I didn’t bring in a change of clothes, and I would prefer not to run into Gene, half-naked, because that would be more than awkward.

  When I find the coast is clear, I run across the hallway, safely closing the door to Mia’s room behind me.

  “Are you trying to take over every part of my life?”

  My heart practically leaps out of my chest when I hear Noah’s voice, and I turn to find him sitting on the corner of my bed.

  “Noah!” I scream, grasping at my towel. My eyes go wide at his intrusion, and I look down, making sure everything is covered.

  Noah stands up, pacing in front of me, looking at the ground. “You are staying in my house. Fine. Then, you are in my class. Actually, classes,” he corrects. “At the lunch table and then at my mate’s house. Soon enough, you’ll be in his fucking bed as well. You have single-handedly infiltrated every part of my life, and I can already tell that you’re going to cause problems between Harry and me.”

  “Infiltrated? Really? We’re not in one of your video games,” I say, rolling my eyes. “And what do you mean, I’m going to cause problems between you and Harry?”

  “You already have,” he says, brushing his fingers through his hair.

  “What are you talking about?”

  Noah is still pacing, and I grab on to his arm, pulling him back down onto the bed so he has to look at me.

  “Did you already forget about me rubbing your hair today? I was being nice to you! And here you are, having to ruin it.”

  “That’s the problem, Mallory,” he says, his eyes softening as he looks at me.

  “What is?” I push.

  “Harry made a comment about it.” His gaze connects with mine, an
d he bites onto his lip, scraping his teeth across it. He looks frustrated and upset with himself.

  “Oh,” is all I can say.

  “He didn’t make a thing of it,” Noah starts, shaking his head. “But he likes you, and I have to accept that. Mohammad does too.”

  “You hate me for no reason.” I feel really let down. Because I thought he liked me too. I didn’t think he was just tolerating me because of his friends.

  “No, I hate that you think you can do whatever you want. You have no respect for anyone.”

  “Or maybe you’re just a sensitive little bitch about your friends,” I fire back, feeling pissed. “About your house. Your life. The world doesn’t revolve around you, Noah. My actions, my relationship with Harry—they are mine. This isn’t some evil plan against you. And what am I supposed to do, remain isolated?”

  “Maybe if you didn’t try to steal a girl’s boyfriend on the first day, you would actually have some girlfriends,” Noah says like I should have known better.

  I lean back at the force of his words. Because is that really what he thinks of me? Does he take life so seriously that a couple can’t break up and meet someone new? Does he really hate me that much to say something so mean? He hit the one spot, the only spot that he could—the fact that my only friends at school are his friends.

  I hold my hand up in the air, not wanting him to say anything else. Because he’s right; I’ve isolated myself all on my own. Harry likes me. But what if that ends? Then, I won’t have Harry. Obviously, I can’t consider Noah a friend, and Mohammad only came up to me because of the two of them.

  My head starts spinning, and I feel sick to my stomach.

  Because I’m here alone.

  And I know I’m strong and I can get through anything on my own, but Noah’s words hurt.

  He reaches out to me, but I push myself off the bed, grabbing on to my towel harder. I turn away from him, not wanting to see or hear anything else he has to say.

  “Mallory—” he says, but I interrupt him.

  “Just get out,” I whisper, closing my eyes and trying to keep it together.

  I hear Noah’s weight shift, and the second I hear the bedroom door close, the tears I was holding back come pouring down my face.

  Wednesday, September 25th

  Being so harsh.

  6am

  “Mallory?” I hear a voice whisper in my ear.

  I want to swat it away. I spent a good part of the night crying silently into my pillow, and by the time I fell asleep, I knew daylight wouldn’t be far off. I hear the voice again but ignore it further. I don’t need reality. I had enough of that last night. I want to stay buried under the covers forever, pretending the world around me doesn’t exist.

  That I don’t have to get up. Face the day. Face Noah.

  “Mallory.”

  I feel the mattress shift and a hand move across my arm. I have visions of being home, of my dad coming in to wake me up.

  I blink a few times, realizing I’m awake. Someone pulls at the covers, peeking into the little dark cave I’ve created around me.

  “Morning,” Noah says.

  I blink a few times, my eyes expecting to fight against the daylight. But it’s still dark in my room, and I find Noah seated on my bed. He is holding on to my arm, looking down at me.

  “What?” I moan crankily, trying to roll away from him.

  He’s the one person I don’t want to face today. Especially first thing in the morning.

  “Wait,” Noah pleads, pressing his hand down into my shoulder, keeping me pinned onto the bed. It isn’t forceful, but I stay there, staring into space, refusing to look at him. “Look, I was an absolute wanker last night.”

  “What?” I ask, trying to sit up.

  He puts both of his hands onto his lap, looking mindlessly at his fingers and then back to me. “I was inconsiderate. I’m really sorry.”

  “You’re apologizing,” I state more than ask, trying to wrap my head around it.

  “I brought you some coffee.”

  He takes a cup from my bedside table, handing it to me. I let the steam rise to my face, warming my skin.

  “Why?” I say, continuing my streak of one-worded questions. But then I realize that’s a terrible question and correct myself, “I mean, what made you want to apologize?”

  Noah bites his lip, his brown eyes connecting with mine. “I-I heard you last night. And I realized that I was wrong for being so harsh.”

  “Oh my God,” I say, mortified, my hand coming up to cover my mouth.

  I can feel my eyes going wide, and I turn and set my coffee down on the bedside table, wanting to crawl back under the covers and hide forever.

  Because not only did Noah hurt me, but he also had to hear me break down. And now, he feels sorry for me.

  And I’m not sure if there is anything worse than being pitied.

  “Stop. It’s okay,” he says, gently taking ahold of my wrist, his eyes pleading with me. He brings my arm down away from my face. “You’re just so strong and opinionated. You’re kind of like a bulldozer,” he says, looking up like he’s searching his mind on how to explain further.

  “A bulldozer?” I question, wondering if this is really his best attempt at an apology.

  “Yeah,” he confirms. “You just charge forward. And that was all I saw. Something rushing toward me. I guess I got scared.”

  “That’s quite the analogy,” I comment. A bulldozer.

  “What I’m trying to say is, I’m sorry.”

  Noah’s lips rise at the corner, and he gives me that classic half-smile, but his smile doesn’t reach his eyes, and I think he’s waiting for me to say something. To feel better.

  “You know, the coffee would have been apology enough.” I give him a little shove against his shoulder before grabbing my coffee cup again.

  His whole face brightens, and this time, he lets out a full grin.

  “Is that right?” He laughs.

  “Of course. You know I’m addicted,” I tease.

  Noah’s body seems less tense now. I lean back against the headboard, taking another sip. I feel a mixture of relief and embarrassment, but I try to push it aside.

  “Actually, the coffee wasn’t meant to be an I’m sorry. I thought you might like to go running with me.” Noah tilts his head, waiting for my reaction.

  And all of a sudden, I’m taking in the whole moment. The morning light starting to peek into the room. A warm cup of coffee in my hand. Noah’s hand resting on my arm. He’s looking at me again like I have to make a decision. I have to tell him yes. He keeps looking at me like that, and it’s confusing. One second, he hates me, and the next, it’s like he’s waiting for my answer. I don’t really understand him. Or boys, for that matter. So, I just nod and say, “That would be nice.”

  Noah gets up off the bed. He already has on workout clothes, and they cling to him like a second layer of skin. They mold against his body, and I can see the outline of each muscle as he stands up and heads toward the door.

  “I’ll be downstairs then.”

  When my door closes, I try to calm myself down. Because I can feel my heart racing in my chest. I’m not sure if it’s the coffee, or the idea of running, or the way that Noah looked upset with himself for hurting me, or if it’s that I miss my dad bringing me coffee in bed. I’m not sure if it’s all of it or none of it, but something has me feeling like I’m about to jump off a cliff—and I have no idea if I’m going to fall or fly.

  Girls always read into things.

  Statistics

  “I can’t believe you were able to eat both plates of breakfast.” I laugh, sitting down at my desk in Statistics.

  Noah slides into the seat next to me, taking a drink from his water bottle. His lips form around the opening, and he tilts his head back, letting it flow freely into his mouth.

  “What can I say? I’m a growing boy.” He grins, wrinkling his nose at me.

  “Growing boy or not, I think your mom is on a mission t
o fatten me up.” I laugh. “She made enough food to feed a small army.”

  “She always worries when I add in more exercise. She thinks I’m going to vanish away from hunger or something.”

  “I’m not sure we’re looking at the same boy then.” I laugh, wondering how Helen could think Noah is too thin. His body is long and lean, and I notice now that you can see his muscles, even through his uniform. “But I do appreciate you eating mine. I’m not the biggest fan of English breakfasts.” The idea of fried, well, anything leaves my stomach turning, especially in the morning.

  “What do you normally have then?” Noah asks, curious.

  “I usually make smoothies. We always have fresh juices. Sometimes, if I’m feeling really bad, I’ll have some toast and drizzle it with almond butter, honey, and banana,” I say, my eyes rolling back into my head at just the thought of its deliciousness.

  “That’s the healthiest meal I think I’ve ever heard of.” Noah laughs.

  “It’s so good. When I’m upset or wanting to spoil myself, it’s my go-to meal.”

  “Next time Mum pops into the shop, we’ll have her grab you stuff for it. Just give her a list.”

  “Okay,” I say, feeling silly for not having gone to the store myself. But I didn’t want to be rude and ask for food when she was already preparing meals, and I didn’t just want to show up with something else. But Noah’s right; I should just ask her.

  “Sometimes, I think girls make everything more complicated.” Noah leans back in his chair, stretching his arms out above his head.

  “What do you mean?” I reply, grabbing my textbook and notebook from my bag.

  “Girls always read into things. Or they change their actions on the assumption that someone else will read into their actions. It’s mental.”

  “Well, yeah, of course it is,” I say, and he looks at me, surprised. He raises his eyebrows, questioning me. “But we’re expected to. Or we are raised to. We have to think about not only our actions, but also what those actions will say to someone else and how they will feel about it in return. It’s exhausting.”