First Time

7

EMILY

I didn't expect to hear from Aiden again. He looked confused and was frowning deeply when the bus drove away. Maybe I should have just told him what was going through my mind. I just couldn't figure him out. He switches from being this sweet, caring guy to being arrogant and unfeeling in a blink of an eye. How could he care so much about my safety but in the same breath, tell another girl to walk alone, in an area he clearly knew was not safe, just because she annoyed him. And then I had a thought. It didn't matter that Aiden cared enough about me in that moment to walk me to the bus stop. Not to him anyway. I was just one of the many girls he had charmed and soon enough, like the girl he was talking about on the phone, he would stop caring about me. Whether it's because I say or do something to annoy him or simply because he has moved on to someone else. I wondered who he was talking about. Was it Kitty? The sassy blonde who had eyed me up and down in such a degrading manner? Or Mia, the pretty mix race girl who was sitting next to Aiden? I could see Aiden with either of them. Beautiful, funny, confident girls. I am nothing like them. What makes me so special that he would be interested in me like that? I sat on the bus ride home feeling stupid. Stupid for thinking that our moments in the kitchen and in detention had meant something. Stupid for asking dumb questions, hoping for him to say something romantic like in the movies. This was real life. And in real life, guys like him didn't fancy girls like me.

When I had finally gotten home, mum and dad were more worried about me than upset that I was home late. Dad gave me the usual lecture about how Watford was not the same as the safe, quiet suburbs in Kensington where we used to live in before. How I shouldn't be staying out late or should at least call them to pick me up if I was going to be late. Mum added her concerns about me not wearing a coat and catching a cold as we were quickly approaching the chilly, winter months. All lectured up, I was finally able to eat something then linger in a long, hot bath. As I soaked in it, the calming lavender foam hugged my body and soothed the ache in my muscles and my heart.

The next day, we went to church and the Sandersons came over for Sunday dinner. As usual, it was awkward. All through dinner, we sat through a sermon from minister Boris, anecdotes about Chloe's horrible case of childhood chicken pox and Tim's stubborn acne as well as their Christmas plans. Worse, Tim kept kicking me under the table to try and get my attention. When I looked at him, he would just give me an awkward smile and blush. During dessert, the conversation was mainly the Sandersons showering compliments on my mum for how delicious her sticky toffee pudding was and pleading with her to share her recipe. I was getting excited that this uncomfortable dinner was coming to an end when I heard my dad start to ask Tim some curious questions about his plans for the future; what work he wanted to do, if he wanted to get married and have kids etc. Tim's answers seemed to delight my parents and each time he spoke, they looked at me with ridiculous grins. Catching the gist, the Sanderson parents also started grinning shamelessly at me and Tim and picturing our future together. Mrs Tim Sanderson, the wife of a future doctor and church leader and doting mother of 4. That was the future they envisioned for me. And from the smirk on Tim's tomato-like face, he was loving that vision. I, on the other hand, felt sick to the stomach. I liked Tim but no more than I liked Gwen. As a friend. And the whole conversation about me and Tim was so uncomfortable and made me long for Aiden. Once I had enough, I excused myself and locked myself away in my room. I poured everything out into my journal. How I didn't want to be Mrs Emily Sanderson. How I still couldn't stop thinking about Aiden. How I had no reason to miss or like him as much as I did. And how I was sure, I was never going to hear from him again.

So, now, on this cold, grey Monday morning, I look out of the window as a light, autumn rain falls. I'm feeling as gloomy as the weather is and can barely pay attention to Miss Rowland's history lesson on World War 1. I'm startled when my phone buzzes once in my pocket. I wait for it to buzz again but it doesn't. So, it's a text. But from who? It can't be mum or dad since they know I'm at school. Gwen and Tim are sitting in class with me. Maybe it's Nicole. I wait for Miss Rowland to turn her back before sneaking my phone out of my pocket and holding it out in front of me, under my desk. Polly Ashcroft, who is sitting next to me, gives me a disapproving sideways glance. I check on Miss Rowland again before turning the screen on. I have a mini panic attack when I realise how bright the screen is and quickly turn the brightness down. The text message is from an unknown number. I open it and read: