After approximately a whole day of doing nothing but feeling sorry for myself, I decided I couldn't wait any longer to talk to Amber. I text her eagerly, mis-spelling half of the words in my hurry. I told her I would be at her house a little early, if that was ok with her. I only added that last part in to give her the illusion she had some choice in the matter. I was going early whether she wanted me to or not. I'd sit on her doorstep if I had to; her Dad was at hospital undergoing tests and her mum was with him too. I just wanted to get out of this boring, and somewhat depressing house. A day of moping really takes it out of you. After an agonizing wait (at least three minutes) she had still not texted me back. I hate people who take around a century to reply. Her replies were usually back to me before I'd even had time to put down my phone, she was just that fast. Still, she was at work. Maybe I got her into trouble. Oops.
After patiently waiting another three minutes, and receiving no reply, I checked my watch, and pulled on my coat. It was twenty-to-six. Well, she did say she'd get off early. I dumped my used lunch dishes in the sink, a small token of gratitude to my parents for leaving me alone all day, and wrote a short note explaining I was at Ambers for when they got home. I'd already mentioned it, but they have virtually no memory. Short term OR long term. It must be an age thing. I hope it's not a genetic thing. Wait, what was I saying...?
Locking the door behind me I strode out onto the street, treading the familiar path to Ambers house. The cool breeze felt good against my skin. Refreshing. The blossoms were falling from the trees, and I tried to concentrate on how pretty they were but they kept getting in my eyes and mouth. This reminded me of a lone figure stood amongst these same blossom trees, only hours ago. I suddenly felt uneasy; maybe I should've caught the bus or something. I pushed all thoughts of Alex out of my mind. That was stupid, Amber's house was only a short walk, and although it was evening it wasn't even dark yet. I'd been walking there since I was a whipper-snapper. Still...I quickened my pace the tiniest bit. I was getting a crick in the neck from constantly glancing over my shoulder, convinced he was there. I think I terrified some poor old dear walking her pug. She must've thought I looked mighty suspicious. That's probably why she crossed the road. That or the park full of the youth of today I was walking past. Chugging beer, and doing things I can only describe as illegal, and apparently very exhilarating judging by their dreamy smiles, barely visible through the clouds of dense smoke surrounding them. I tried not to inhale and considered following the old ladies lead, but then she'd probably think I was following her and blow a whistle at me or something. Being a teenager is HARD.
When I finally caught sight of the familiar row of houses, all painted varying shades of beige (people sometimes feel the need to go wild with their colour choices. Who are we to deny them that right?) relief flooded through me. I checked my watch, for what felt like the hundredth time that day, it was a few minutes to six. I'd made good time. See what happens when you're afraid a mentally unstable person might catch up to you? You move a lot faster, that's what. I trudged up the street, feeling safer now I could see Ambers house. I waved at Mr Jackson, pottering around in his little garden. Don't let my use of the word 'pottering' deceive you into thinking he's a nice old man. He most certainly is not. He sneezed and turned away from me grumbling to himself. Well, how rude. You try to be nice. I'm not sure why I keep trying to be nice to the grinch. He's always rude. Still, he is old and reasonably rich with no close relatives...
I marched up the small path leading to Amber's house, squinting through the net curtain to see if she was in. She wasn't, I would've heard the music from miles away. Still, it seemed silly to not knock on the door. I gave it two sharp wraps, accidentally crumbling some peeling red paint from the door. Her Dad had been saying for years he was going to repaint it. He was just always too busy. Too busy watching TV Amber said, it still made me chuckle. My Dad was exactly the same way. Nobody answered. I slumped down on the doorstep, pulling out my i-pod. I'd come prepared. I popped the earphones in trying to ignore Mr Jackson's suspicious glare. There was no need. I'd practically grown up in Ambers house, it's not like I was planning to rob the place. Ok, so I didn't grow up there I grew up in my own house, but you get the drift. I finally caved and met his gaze with a forced smile. He went back to pulling weeds, and I went back to mentally slapping him.
