The Planetarium

PART SIX

Shoes slid on the gleaming floors as the team next to us scored a foul. The man had overstepped the mark, the bowling ball clunking down with a dismal thud. The family groaned.

They didn't seem to share any secret, longing affection, my two mates. They'd almost had a rich friendship and inside jokes - but that was to be expected, they'd known each other for years longer than I had.

Two white spots clouded my eyesight temporarily. I let the ball unhook from my hand in surprise. It knocked into the other fluorescent colours, the montage hazy and vague as they doubled.

Instead of the paralyzed fear, the symptoms were more a nuisance now I had learned to expect them.

Ezra's own eyes slid over my ashen face. "Wrapping it up then, lads? God, I would kill for a decent chippie."

"We can go and pick up some pizzas," Art suggested. "The one on Baker Street - they take forty five minutes, but you can't go wrong with double bacon."

"With my pains and woes, I'll just be pleased to return to a hot drink and my toasty bed," I said precociously.

Someone tossed me the keys - I could barely distinguish who, my vision was up to so much trickery. At least they noticed my state, even if it was a bit depressing to end the night at eight o'clock.

The apartment was eerily still. Undisturbed, unlit, unloved. Hannah was out with her elementary friend Indira; so the house had been left cold on return.

I ran the tap, glugged down some water and a few pills - then the doorbell chimed.

Don't tell me the takeaway is closed! I thought, and in a silly way the thought made my eyes prick with tears. Why do bad things always happen to good people?

Killers and robbers would only come checking the premises during this time of the dying night. It was approaching nine - an usual hour for visitors, but nevertheless I dragged my apathetic ass to the door and turned the lock.

It was Juliet.

"I've come to return your camera," she said.

It took me a few minutes to register that she'd borrowed it to monitor her flat. However, her tone wasn't endearing. Gone was the cheeky grin that shone on her face, and the celestial brightness of her eyes.

"Oh. Thanks. Do you want to come in?"

"Yeah. Are you alone?"

My waning smile faltered.

The glow-in-the-dark stars on my ceiling shone shamelessly yellow. There was a crumpled water bottle on my desk, and a few textbooks dog-eared in a pathetic attempt at a mid-term paper. She didn't comment on the messy remains in my bedroom, or sign and shake her head affectionately like Hannah had a habit of doing.

Part of me felt restless, uneasy. She wanted to talk about what we did.

Shit.

"I haven't told a soul, I swear -" my mouth raced ahead before my brain could configure a correct phrase. "No one suspects a thing, and I know we're not dating..."