This Is England » Freddie Highmore

43.

I CLIMBED INTO the passenger's seat of Freddie's car. Freddie followed soon after, taking the key and putting it into the ignition. He hasn't spoken to me since last night and it turns out he ended up staying in the living room the entire night.

His eyes carried dark circles under them, indicating his lack of sleep. I've come to realize that there is never a calm moment when it came to Freddie. He was wild, vicious and never stopped thinking. His mind was like a computer generator---always working, always thinking.

"Why didn't you come to bed last night?" I asked finally, breaking the silence. Freddie groaned as he continued to struggle turning the ignition on.

"Oh please, Amelia. I don't have time to answer your petty questions," he replies bitterly. "I have a million problems and one of them isn't you."

"Well, what am I to you then, huh?" I ask, lighting up a cigarette. "And don't reply with some John Green bullshit."

Freddie turned his head back to look and see if there were any cars out in the parking lot. He looked down, making sure his hand was on the lever of the car as he pulled out; driving into the streets.

He doesn't say anything. He continues to drive.

"You're not part of my problems," he says finally. "That's because you are part of the solution."

..

"So, why are we at the airport?" I ask, getting out of the car. Freddie takes our suitcases in his hands, pushing past me as we make our way to the check-in area.

"I told you," he says, digging into his leather-jacket pocket. "we are going to see your mother."

"Why?" I furrow my eyebrows, perplexed.

Freddie thanks the clerk and turns on his heel, lightly tugging at my jacket as we make our way into the crowd of people.

"Reasons."

He doesn't say anything more. We continue to walk through the ocean of bodies making their way past us, as we wait for our flight to be called.

I just hope that once we see my mother, she won't be as rude to Freddie as she was before.

...