Saving Elliot ✓

Chapter Four

MY WEEKEND PLAYED OUT like it always did, quiet and uneventful. Avoiding Elliot Fintry was my main priority, which turned out to be easier than I thought because judging from the glares and how quickly he left the room as I soon as I entered he felt the same way. I hoped he could it keep it up for the length of his stay.

That afternoon, Mum took Elliot out to buy his school uniform and also give him a tour of Manchester. She tried to drag me along and even tempted me with a trip to Nando's but I refused. I made an excuse about needing to finish my report for a recent Chemistry experiment for Monday. I don't think I'd imagined the look of relief on Elliot's face when I declined.

It wasn't until that evening that Dad finally met our new guest. Elliot and I were in the kitchen, both of us refusing to talk let alone acknowledge the other when Dad walked in.

"Elliot." Dad smiled and shook his hand. "Welcome to Manchester, it's great to finally meet you."

Elliot swallowed his orange juice and nodded, "Likewise Mr. Jensen."

"Oh you can call me Charlie," he said, "Mr. Jensen makes me feel like an old man."

I shut the fridge door and smirked, "You are old man, Dad."

He threw me a glance, "Keep being so mean to me El and I'll tell your mum."

I laughed, "O-o-oh I'm terrified."

Elliot placed the glass of juice on the counter and slid off the stool. He carded a hand through his dark hair and cleared his throat. "It was nice talking to you, Charlie. I'll be upstairs if you need me."

And without even a goodbye or a smile, Elliot had turned and marched out of the kitchen. He disappeared up the stairs and off into his bedroom.

"Well, he's a nice lad isn't he?" Dad smiled.

I scoffed, "Yeah, brilliant. We're so lucky to have him."

On Sunday I went over to Dane's to help her with the psychology essay since she was struggling. It was a welcome break from the American for a couple of hours. We sat in her bedroom, listening to music and discussing just how drunk we thought the boys had gotten at Kopov's party.

Monday morning came and the blaring sound of my alarm clock alerted me to the wonderful fact. I groaned and flipped onto my stomach. Still half-asleep, I blindly reached for my mobile on the bedside table. My eyes slowly peeled open; I lifted my head and checked the time.

6:03 A.M.

I groaned again. I meant to place it back on the table but I let it go too soon and it landed on the floor. I pulled the duvet cover off. The cool air washed over my exposed legs and I pushed myself up and swept my legs off the bed. I let a long yawn escape my lips as I stood up and stretched my arms. I tugged off my PJ's and went to have a quick shower.

Twenty minutes later, I was back in my bedroom and pulling on my school uniform. I think everyone hoped to be wearing their own clothes for sixth form but St. George's had strict uniform policy. I quite liked it. It meant I didn't have to worry about choosing my outfit every day. I didn't see the point of dressing up for school. A lot of people complained about the design but again, I liked it.

It was simple, consisting of a white shirt, striped tie, navy blue jumper and black pants. Girls could wear pants or black flared skirts with black tights. I liked the skirts, they were cute and it was lot easier to move around in them.

It was the last week of October and I'd been in sixth form for just under two months. Tam had been unhappy about going back to St. George's. She'd hoped to finally be free of it but once she learnt most of our friends were staying, she grudgingly did too. Once I'd finished getting ready, I bundled my curly mane of blonde hair into a high bun.