Awkward

~PILOT /PART 1/~

When I look back, that girl is nowhere in sight - and it's getting really cold. It might even rain again tonight. I even hear a soft roll of thunder in the distance.

—No, wait. Not thunder.

A car, cruising on the dust.

That's my ride.

Minutes pass, a dark SUV rolls into the car park and the lights flash.

When I open the door and step into the backseat, the all-encompassing evening is gone, the wind is gone and it's all light, warmth and the smell of a well-kept car. Lucy-Ella shows me her phone: 6:10.

My father passes me my phone and turns back round into the corridor, and out we go.

~~~|~~~

The house is a large equestrian property. A far cry from the rundown flat we lived in last year. I think that's why I'm not used to it yet. That, and we don't really own it.

There's quite a distance from the house to the gate but I can already see huge parts of it when the car stops at the gates and the guards walk out.

Meanwhile, my sister is fast asleep, leaning on my arm. I wake her up and in one slothful motion, she wipes her eyes and sits up.
"We're home?"

The guards check both us and the car. Nothing dodgy. They check the driving seat once more, then they let us through.
"Have a good night, Sebastian!" One of them says, to which my father gives a thumbs up.

He cruises down the stretch to the actual house and everything's a blur, except the lights glinting from the lofty towers, domes and blocks that make up the house we live in. I tap my sister. She's asleep again.

The car slides to a halt in the garage and Lucy-Ella wakes up again, opens her door and steps out without a word, like a zombie.

I'm next, and without a word, my father follows.

In the house, we have servants, but Mum says I shouldn't say that.

I leave my bag to the servants and head in behind Ella while my father locks up. When I step in, my mum is in an apron, casually chatting with the servants at a kitchen island inside. We exchange waves, Ella goes to hug her instead.

The floor boards here don't make any noise. I can walk across the kitchen island, the grand dining hall, a few unexplored corridors, the common TV room, up one of the stairwells and into the second floor. It's warmer up here- and there are lots of corridors, but lining each one is a runway of enormous bay windows with a breathtaking view of the night outside and the city, far.

I look out one of the high windows in the corridor to the bedrooms. It feels like if I lean forward far enough, I could probably fall over onto one roof. But I can't.

The window is closed.

My big brother pays for everything. He plays pro football and out in France, he's known as Kavi Turner, AS Saalfeld's 'wonderkid', the prodigy. I personally don't feel any pressure to one day fly to France and do what he does, but he has a shocking success story, and I want my own.

When I didn't believe in anything, I would read. Now, I watch. It's what Kavi did. He watched, and waited for his time. I watch him on TV.

When later on, a servant brings food upstairs to me, I think, 'dinner — and a show'. And habitually, I take a photo of the TV with my food and send it to Kavi's user on ChatApp with my utterly hilarious thought.

He responds quickly.

Kavi: unfunny. 😅

Well, now I'm going to punish him by leaving it on seen for an hour.

~: one hour later.

Roman: tell me a funny joke then.

I watched the chat for sixty minutes. I feel like a creep. A satisfied creep.

Kavi: tell me about you and we'll laugh at the joke.

Roman: unfunny. 😅

Roman: Hurts, doesn't it?

Roman: but anyway forget that, man! today at school, I think some girl saw me leave my 'spot'.

Kavi: your spot? I don't know what that is but if it's supposed to be a secret, then simple - dispose of her.

Kavi: Permanently.

That makes me laugh.
He's a funny guy.
Wait.

Is he joking?
He's joking.
He must be joking.

It's a joke.
It is a joke.

Kavi: I'm JOKING!

Knew it.

~~~|~~~

10:00 (P.M)

The house is as empty as a shell and every movement I make feels like it's reverberating from distant walls. The roof feels like it's in the sky, a dark cloud above me as I descend the stairwell like something from a thriller movie.

I notice the changes in sound in different parts of the house. The whole house seems to be sleeping but deep down, I know it never is. There's always someone quietly working, sweeping, washing, mopping just so the house stays the way it is. I just can't notice those sounds anymore.

It's crazy how the longer you enjoy things that are supposed to be special, the less special they become, and you eventually take them for granted.

I don't want to ever take this house, the school, anything for granted, so I'll pretend they're new to me everyday.
Yeah, I'll pretend.

As I reach the bottom, I see my mum in the common TV room. I want to go over to wake her up, but she's asleep on the couch with Lucy-Ella in her arms so I leave them both, leaving my plate in the kitchen instead.

And when I get back upstairs, I'm actually more tired than I thought thinking about girls and trains and silly things but I get a text.

Alastair: have you ever had a crush on someone?

And another one.

Alastair: like— that type of crush where, when you see them your brain just goes ⬆️↙️↗️⤵️

This imbecile.

I read it from the notifications and put my phone back down.

|• | •|

to be continued.