Chapter 1 - Waiting

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Note: The photo on the side in supposed to be Chazza, but imagine her with lighter hair (when I edited the photo I couldn't get rid of the red so had to stick with dark brown), Chaz's hair is light brown in le story.
Hope you enjoy! :D 


In life there are so many things that you can immediately deem ‘unfair’. For example, when you’re about to go to a party and it suddenly rains, soaking you, drenching your hair and making your mascara run down your face.  

Lying on the lush green grass in my back garden with the summer breeze drifting through the trees and birds overhead singing sweetly, the most unfair thing is having to wait.

I have absolutely no patience. If I text someone urgently needing an answer and they don’t reply within fifteen minutes, I will go crazy.

Which is exactly what’s happening now.

My mum had sent me outside after I had resorted to turning the volume on my radio up to the loudest and stomping my feet on the floor just to keep myself occupied.

“Have a nap in the garden,” my mum, wannabe hippie, complete with tie-dye summer dress and cup of green tea, had said calmly, “That always de-stresses me…” I rolled my eyes at her, envious of how she can always be so down to earth and positive. 

She may be able to lie on the damp grass all afternoon at risk of getting ants in her pants and not give a damn, but I can barley sit still for two minutes. I’m constantly checking my blackberry for some kind of notification or text from my best friend, Harry. He had promised to text me as soon as he heard anything, good news or bad, I would be the first to know, he had said.

Several thousand boring minutes later and I still have no messages. I don’t understand? It’s nearly four o’clock! He’s meant to be back home at six! Now I’m getting worried.

Fed up and dizzy from staring at the sky for too long, I go to get a glass of water from the kitchen. It’s cooler inside the house so I decide to stay here sitting on the marble counter tops waiting for Harry’s text.

I find a black marker pen by the kettle and begin carefully decorating my glistening white trainers with stars and musical notes. I’m just about to add a drawing of a microphone when my phone leaps into life. My foot slips off of the counter in surprise and I end up leaving a long black line across my trainers and my skinny jeans.

Scrambling to snatch my phone I nearly drop it into the sink but catch it and click the button to read Harry’s message,

I got through! Big news, though! Tell you more when I get back! :)

I jump a mile high. Maybe higher, I wasn’t paying much attention. On my way back down I also knocked over my glass of water, which poured off of the counter and onto the floor.

I didn’t care, but mum wasn’t happy. She heard me screaming and ran down the stairs and demanded I clean it all up immediately.

“So, he got through?” she asks smiling when I’ve finished,

I had to stop myself from screaming, “He’s going to the Judges Houses!!!” This time we both squealed as we jumped around the kitchen table.

“I should bake him a cake!” my mum had randomly announced. She then began pulling out bowls and spoons from the cupboards and then rushing around to find eggs and sugar and flour.

I left her to it. I could hear her humming happily to herself as I ascended the staircase towards my bedroom. The radio is still on, but a lot quieter this time. I sit at my dresser and check my reflection in the mirror.

I laugh out loud thinking how much I have changed in the past five years, since I first met Harry.

It was the second day of our first year at High School and so far I had made no new friends. My other friends were all in classes I wasn’t, so I would always sit alone at desks and never speak.

That all changed in fourth period Maths, thanks to Mr Taylor.

I’m not saying Mr Taylor is a good teacher; he was one of the worst. He was terrifying; massive, built like a brick wall with a very bad haircut and a suit and tie. His voice would drone on and on, making you want to snooze on top of your algebra homework, but if you did that then you should expect a loud, metallic thump as he slammed a ruler to the desk to wake you up.

“Line up, you lot. Boys on the left, Girls on the right.” He had commanded outside the classroom as we were dreading our first lesson. He had shoved us into the classroom one by one, placing boys next to girls.

I was placed right at the back of the classroom in the far corner. I sank onto the blue plastic chair and prepared to hide my face behind my brand new grey satchel for the remainder of the year.

When somebody dropped into the chair next to mine I glanced through a gap in my curtain of light brown hair and saw a scruffily dressed boy with short, wild curly hair looking right at me.

“Urgh, I hate maths.” He said throwing his rucksack to the floor. “I don’t see why it can’t solve its own problems…”

I pushed the curtain behind my ear and saw him smiling back at me, showing of his little dimples and causing me to erupt in a silent fit of giggles.

“You two, at the back! Do I have to give you detention so early in the year?” barked Mr Taylor in the middle of his lecture on how important maths is. Harry and I looked away from each other as if we were completely innocent, but started laughing again when Mr Taylor’s back is turned.

We had dinner after that lesson and Harry took me to the cafeteria with him to meet some of his friends. I called my small group of friends over too and we all began hanging out every day. We quickly became great friends. I realized I was in other lessons with some of his friends, but I would never be as close with them as I was with Harry.

The reflection staring back at me now is so different. My hair used to be a dull shade of light brown, falling down my back in a messy heap, but it’s now cut short and choppy. I had blonde streaks added a few years ago, so the dull brown is less dull nowadays.

Harry’s friends dressed so differently from me that I was embarrassed to go out with them at all. Mum had the worse fashion sense ever, as you may have guessed by the tie-dye dress mentioned earlier. My wardrobe was full of blue jeans, pink shorts and tops with kittens or puppies printed on them.

I had demanded my mum take me shopping for something more suitable, but she wasn’t much help. I had ended up tagging along with my new friends to do some proper shopping.

Now I have a much better fashion sense, I think. I check my reflection in the full-length mirror; long white vest top and my ripped and faded skinny jeans, along with my white trainers – one now coated with black doodles.

I smile to myself, thankful that I have such an amazing best friend like Harry.

I turn to crank the volume on my radio back up and dance around like a maniac.

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