September 2010
"And stay out!" Marcy yells, slamming the door on his face. Ridley giggles slightly but knows better not to comment. Marcy looks at her little sister and gives her a flustered smile.
"Alright...so how long did this one last?" Marcy asks her as they make their way in to the kitchen. Ridley thinks for a while. One, two, three...
"Five days, I think—not counting New Year's Eve, when you slept with him."
Marcy looks horror-struck as Ridley bursts out laughing. "Wait, how did you know about that?" she cries as her cheeks turn a familiar shade of pink. Ridley twirls a lock of her auburn hair and smiles mischievously, and her eyes twinkle.
"I'm sixteen, Marce," she says. "I know what all those noises you were making meant – not the sound of a person suffering from a tooth ache, that's for sure."
Marcy groans and reaches out to swat her sister on the head, but Ridley, used to this familiar reaction, ducks her head just in time. "Urgh, that is so embarrassing. God, Rids, sometimes I forget that you're not twelve anymore." Marcy rolls her eyes but Ridley smiles and takes hold of her sister's hand, and squeezes it reassuringly.
"That's good," Ridley says, "because now I can take care of you."
Marcy ruffles her little sister's head. "Slow down, kiddo," she says. "Just because you're sixteen doesn't mean you can go off to work at some grubby old restaurant like I did. You got such good grades in your exams—it's college you need to be thinking about now, baby."
Ridley looks at Marcy and shakes her head firmly. "I'm not going to college," she says determinedly. "Not with all the bills to pay. Johnny, you know Johnny don't you—he told me I could get a job down at that cafe. It's not a good pay, but it's something—"
"No." Marcy is set. And when Marcy is set, she is set on getting what she wants. And Ridley knows she wants her sister to go to college.
"You are going to college, Ridley, if it's the last thing I do. And you are going to do your A Levels and you are going to go to University and wear those fancy schmancy hat things on your Graduation day, and you are going to be a writer, like you've always wanted to be, and—"
"Marce, oh, Marce, slow down." Ridley puts her arms around her sister and fights very hard to keep the tears from falling down her eyes. She sucks in some of her breath. "Alright," Ridley finally mutters, "I'll go to college. But god damn, Marce, let me get a job too?"
Marcy looks reluctant but she nods. "Fine."
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Aroma is a small café not far from Ridley's poky old apartment. It was built in 1857, apparently, and it does have that slightly Victorian look to it—and an old book-ish smell that Ridley rather likes. It was quite popular a several hundred years ago but what with new and much trendier new places like Starbucks opening it's safe to say that it has virtually...zero customers now.
Still, there are times when a lost stranger – usually one who speaks nada English – comes in and compliments Ridley on her pretty hair (usually in very broken English), and if they're generous, gives her a small tip. Today, however, she isn't so lucky. Aroma is as bare as ever and Ridley's been looking in an out of the café window, hoping, wishing someone would come in and give her sister's cupcakes a try, because Marce works here too.
Ridley's shoulders droop as another probable customer walks past the café without so much as a second glance. She gives up and slides in to one of the old Victorian-style seats, and flips her phone open. No messages. Not that she's never used to it. Ridley's never had any friends, save for that one girl in school whose name she can't even recall despite it being only a few months since she left school. Ridley proceeds to click on her WritersWrite app, which is a website she's downloaded on her phone, just to check on any notifications she gets. Ridley has been writing on that website for as long as she can remember, although she hasn't had much success getting noticed on it. She has a meagre fan count of three – and one of them keeps advertising their stories all over her profile page, so she's really just got two real fans.
She clicks on her own story, hopeful. But a stab of disappointment fills her. No comments on this story. No shit. Ridley leans back, biting her lip. What's wrong with her writing? Is it too bland? Too boring? Too shitty? Marcy's read some of her stories, and her English teachers at her school seemed to like them too – but she supposes Marcy's her sister so she's bound to lie about her stories, and her teachers already felt sorry for her over the whole 'No mummy or daddy' business..
"Ridley Denvers?"
She jumps and shoves her phone in to her pocket. Ridley stands up and turns to face the person in front of her. A customer. A good looking customer, at that. A good looking customer that...knows her name? Ridley furrows her eyebrows at the smiling boy in front of her. Has she seen him somewhere? She's sure she has, although she can't quite put her finger on it...
"No way," Ridley whispers. She straightens up. "Er, I mean, hello Benjamin. Haven't seen you...in a while..."
"In a while?" Benjamin laughs and runs a finger through his curly hair. A gesture that got all the girls at school swooning at his feet. Ridley has to admit she does feel a flutter of butterflies in her stomach when he does that. "In a while?" he continues. "We haven't seen each other in years. Why, the last time I saw you, you were like that tall and now you're—you're..." Benjamin trails off as his eyes focus on hers. Ridley feels faint, weak on her knees, embarrassed, admittedly, but for all the right reasons. What's scary is she doesn't know why.
"Well I, uh, I changed," Ridley finishes for him. Well, she has. Over the past few years, Ridley's once ugly, red hair has improved dramatically and...to put it bluntly, puberty happened too. And she was one of the few lucky ones that got very lucky with puberty.
"Changed." Benjamin smirks, as though it was not quite the word he was looking for.
"W-What're you doing here?" Ridley asks. Benjamin smiles.
"I, uh, I got hired a few days ago. I start my job today."
Oh wow.
"Guess we're co-workers now, huh?"
This is great.
"Imagine that...me working with carr—uh, I mean, Ridley."
Bloody Brilliant.
"You were just about to call me carrots, weren't you?" Ridley's eyes narrow at Benjamin. He laughs and shoots her a wink.
"What can I say, carrots? Old habits die hard."
Just bloody brilliant.
➜➜➜
YOU ARE READING
Finding Gilbert Blythe
Romance[COMPLETED] What if Gilbert Blythe didn't need to be found because he was under your nose all along?
