Sketch

13 - Sam

Dedicated to EvaMa9!

Her smile makes my mood worse.  Why does she have to seem so frigging nice?  I could have dealt with a snob or a gold-digger, but being horrible to someone who I could potentially like is hard.  Emmy looks away, holding her sandwich just above the plate on her lap, and I sigh under my breath. 

This wasn't part of the plan.  I was supposed to hate her and she was supposed to hate me.  Then, after a couple weeks of being at loggerheads, she was supposed to leave and Tanya was supposed to apologise for thinking it could work.  Nothing about Emmy, however, reminds me of last time and I wish I could take my frown back.  I want to smile at her and chill on the sofa with the rest of them, but I can't.  I've made my bed and now I've got to lay in it.  It's too late to suddenly start acting like I haven't been brushing her off since she got here. 

I stop once I'm in the kitchen and spot the dirty tray from the grill in the sink.  The smell of bacon is what had made me come out of hiding, and my stomach rumbles.  I catch sight of Vince eating as I turn to finish my now flat orangeade from earlier.  Emmy keeps glancing my way but I ignore her, just in case I end up glaring at her again.

It's some sort of sick masculine pride that's stopping me from smiling back.  I grunt in frustration and throw my empty can at the bin, which is already starting to smell like a dead body.  This flat will look like a pig sty again in no time.

"I would have made you a sandwich too, but we ran out of bacon."  Ollie's offering me an apologetic smile but I know it's forced.  Really he's glad I missed out on lunch.  He's too easy to read.

I study the way his eyebrows are puckered and his lips are parted, like he wants to say something but he's not sure if he should with Emmy in the room.  Probably a rant at how much of a dick I am.

"No bother," I say, indicating the fridge.  "I'm sure I can find something else."

Vince cheers and I look to the TV, seeing that one of the teams has scored, before my gut informs me that Emmy's watching me again.  It takes a great deal of effort to assemble my snack of crisps and chocolate without returning the gaze.  Once I'm done, I tread back to my room without another word.

When the door's shut behind me, I let out a sigh.  I flick my stereo back on and relax when the sound of music reaches my ears.  It's a mix-tape that Ollie made me last Christmas.  I don't know the name of the band that's playing the song that's helping to relax me, but I'm thankful for it.  I sink down onto my bed and rip open the chocolate bar, taking a huge bite and chewing sullenly. 

I'm not sure what I'm supposed to do next.  An apology is out of the question, at least for the near future, but there's no way I can live in the same flat as Emmy and ignore her totally.  I sigh again, feeling like some melodramatic teenager, and finish up my chocolate.

It's when the song changes that my mood drops further.  My jaw tightens and my muscles contract. The song that's playing now isn't bad, it made it to number one, but it reminds me of her.  Michelle was obsessed with it around the same time as she was obsessed with making my life a living hell.  It had taken me a while to realise just how manipulative and calculating she is, and by then it was too late.  She left us hanging and the memories still haunt my nightmares.

I press the skip button, contemplating what life would be like if it had a rewind function.  At least then I would have a do-over with Emmy.   I don't want to hate her but I don't think I can watch a girl ruin Sketch again.  So, to make myself feel better, I decide that this whole hating Emmy thing is going to be some kind of test.  I'm not going to tell anyone; Ollie will tell me it's a stupid idea and Vince will end up blabbing.  I'll give her two weeks and if she's still here then I'll be nice.  I nod to myself as I open the packet of crisps.  It's a bit of a warped way to look at Sketch's future, but there's no way I'm having a girl like Michelle in the band again.  Ever.