Sprigs from Ice

Part One// 7. Thorns on Vines

Adam barely heard me, staring at the book with an ocean of hurt. "It's just a notebook, am I right?" Uttered with a broken chuckle, the words were soft, and when they died out, there was a resounding silence.

In all the years I'd known him, I had never seen Adam so close to tears.

"Yes, it is." I agreed and took it out of his hand. "Are you going to leave now? Head prefect duties await."

"Right." He stood and swallowed. Then awkwardly scratched the back of his head as if he had no idea what to do with himself. "I'll uh...see you tomorrow, Tricia."

"Of course."

I bit my lower lip and kept my gaze trained on the textbook in front of me but unable to read anything. There was a feeling in my chest that made bile rise to my throat and made me question if the life I'd wasted to satisfy my curiosity had been worth it.

...

The rumbling of the motorcycle's engine was the only noise on my street as the driver pulled out a white bag from the lunchbox tied to the back of his bike. The shape of three take-away packs dented the rubber and when he handed it to me, I could feel the heat of the food even through my sweatpants.

"Thank you." I said, handing him the standard twenty-five cedi delivery fee.

He threw me a wink before getting on his bike, and I walked back into the house, bringing the food up to my nose to take in the mouth-watering smell. It had been an never-ending evening; I was famished. It was almost seven, and I hurriedly brought out three plates from the cabinet above the stove and placed them on the island before rushing down the hall to my parents' studies.

Dad's door was slightly open, so I only gave a light knock before pushing it open fully.

He was on the phone, as expected, standing behind the large polished mahogany desk with one Quartz-adorned hand gripping the back of his leather swivel. He had been speaking harshly into it, but paused when I poked my head in.

"Did you need anything?" He asked, the sleek device still pressed to his ear.

"The food just got here." I replied. "And also, Monday is Open Day, and I was wondering if you would be able to make it."

"Can we discuss this later?" Translation: I'm not going. "And please leave my food on the island. I'll come and eat when I'm ready."

"Okay."

Lightly closing the door behind me, I turned and walked three steps to knock on the opposite door.

"Come in, love."

Mum sat upright in her chair, and the light tapping of her fingers against the keyboard and the hum of the air-conditioning had been the only noise in the room until I stepped in. Her brown jacket was draped over the back of the beige swivel, and she had kicked off her pumps, making her look only slightly relaxed.

"Food is here."

She paused her typing, and lifted her head with a tired smile. "I'll be with you soon, Tricia. Just let me finish this presentation."

"Okay." I pushed a lock of hair off my shoulder. "Monday is Open Day, by the way."

"Oh, it's here already? Have you informed your father?"

"Yes."

"Good, because I'm not sure I can make it."

"Oh." I had been expecting this, of course, but it still didn't make the numbness in my hands and feet any less paralyzing. "Why not?"

She drew her locks up into a ponytail and reached for a pen across the glass desk without even sparing me a glance. "This presentation is for a conference I've been invited to on Monday, at the University. I am one of the speakers and will be taking part in a panel discussion. I can't come to your school, love. I'm so sorry."