The Psychology Project

Seventeen: Replicated Pictures and Home Calls †

When I got back into the college building, I dropped my bag off on my bed and sauntered down into the food court. Naturally Johanna and Verity were nowhere to be found in there, therefore, inexorably, I had to sit alone so I chose the corner where not many eyes would be questioning me.

I ate my potatoes, pork chop and steamed vegetables in my own solitude before abandoning my clean plate, drained juice carton and grubby cutlery on the crimson tray at the front. I walked back up to my room to find Johanna and a boy standing outside the door. He had her pinned against the wall, one of his slender hands on the wall next to her head and the other by his side. Now she was the besotted one with the way she was biting her lip and blushing with every word he uttered.

I coughed as I slide past them, sliding my key card into the door. I had to wait until it flashed green and in that time, I couldn't even mask my smile so I had to spin my head away. The appliance flashed green and I retracted my key card before immersing myself in the room, closing the door behind me as speedily as I could before chuckling, not being able to refrain myself any longer.

Johanna strolled in a couple of minutes later as I emptied the contents of my bag – which were the photographs – into the cupboard so no one would find them in there, especially if they were right at the back. I could prepare them (cut them out) closer to the end of the year when the deadline was. No one knew specifically when the cut-off date was, but we'd know closer to the time.

But for now, I was going to call my parents. They still didn't know about the competition.

"Oh, and you call me smitten," I remarked, pulling out my phone and punching in my home phone number. "What's his name?"

"William Field," she replied, "and I'm not smitten. He's just extra good looking."

Laughing, I held the phone up to my right ear before swishing my hair out of the way, letting it all fall to my left side and fall onto the bed, considering I was lying on my side. My mom answered the phone almost straight away and abruptly, a wave of homesickness washed over me.

"Hi, Mum," I spoke.

"Tiegan!" Mom shouted down the phone. "Phil, Tiegan's on the phone!"

Laughing quietly, I spoke up. "You don't need to call Dad," I objected. "I just called to say there's an athletic competition on the 27th of October. I will hopefully be in it, Mum. Coach Kate also said that there will be at least one every season but more in the summer to go on to finals." She had explained the competition further this past week.

"That's great, sweetie!" Dad chimed in. Perceptibly, they were dividing the phone. "We can't wait to see you fly. We'll book the tickets tonight, you know."

Dad, Phil Smith, was constantly a rambler. He never stopped talking and when he did, that's when you knew you'd disappointed him. But seeing as I was the only child, I knew how to get away with things sneakily considering I never had someone to act as the perpetrator unknowingly. But with a bald head and a beer belly, he would always be my dad. I inherited my cerulean eyes from him and also the colour of my hair: shadowy brown. He was nearly fifty now and he was still working at a corporate firm back in England. He works on expanding the knowledge that computer technology can accumulate and how to develop it.

Mom, Susan Smith, had always been indecisive. She was more of the practical thinker while my dad did some very negligent things in his time, most of which we'd kept hushed from Mom. I'd gotten the waves in my hair from Mom and her lip shape. She had emerald eyes that shimmered when the sun glared down on them. Mom also worked at a corporate firm, but this was the retail of clothes so naturally, my family was instantly deemed prosperous by everyone we knew back in London.

"We might have to take awhile looking, though, Phil," piped up Mom, "you know, for the cheapest tickets." There was a certain worry to her voice, morphed in with her words.

Dad scoffed. "Our Tiegan deserves the best."

"I know she does."

"Okay, Mum, Dad," I spoke, breaking up the dispute. They had never really been a couple to argue, but when the time was right, oh they could set the house up in a raging inferno with just their words from their burning lips.

"Sorry, sweetie," Mom spoke. "Anyway, this must be costing you a fortune so we'll send out some money soon, okay? I don't know what you need to buy but if we don't hear that you need money before we come for the competition, we'll bring it then, okay?"

"Okay, Mum. I love you, guys."

"Love you, too," they sang together.

I put the phone down and placed it on the bed, leaning back.

I thought college life would be different. I thought I'd be partying up all night and missing classes out of rebellion but I couldn't even dream of doing that here. This was such an aristocratic college and I didn't want to be the miscellaneous 1% that would be shunned from here.

I never thought I'd be betraying a friend for a stupid project, I mused.

"You know, apparently Jason and you are meeting up in secret," Johanna announced. "That's a rumour going round."

I rolled my eyes. "Do you believe it?"

"I don't know. I tell myself that it's for the project and then I think, great, she's doing it. But then I think about how infatuated you are with him and then..." she trailed off, letting her voice disperse.

I turned to Johanna who was lying on her bed, too. "I'm not meeting up with him in secret. I see him around the buildings like yesterday, I was in the library and he came over to me because Lea was looking for a book and then he left when she was in the queue for the counter. I was simply doing the project – which, by the way, frightened me half to death seeing as he could have easily read what I'd written. But then we also saw one another in town. We didn't meet up, I just saw him on the bench and sat next to him and started talking to him. He's the only boy who's my friend here. Except Scott – one of his friend's on the soccer team – I haven't spoken to another boy."

Johanna looked speculative. "I just don't want anything bad to happen to you," she confessed. "I mean, I was the one who basically planted this idea in your head. I will have just been loading the gun and aiming it. Someone else will fire it, but I'll be the main suspect because I got the target."

"Nothing like that is going to happen," I declared. "No guns," I added, in a stern yet teasing tone. "And also, I don't mind. I mean, there's so much about both Jason and Lea that I don't know, maybe I should do the project on both of them?" I offered.

"That would be good." She turned her head so she was staring at the white ceiling. "You never know, you might break them up and you'll end up dating Jason."

"No," I admitted. "That's too cliché," I breathed, lowering my voice.

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Author's Note:

Is that too cliche though? Or will I make it happen? ;) Let me know! And if you enjoyed this chapter, let me know in the comments and/or vote for this chapter.

Thank you :) x