Poppy Jameson has lived her life as an average. An average student. An average daughter. She isn't the favourite child, or the best student, and she has never been in a relationship. She doesn't want to fit in, but she doesn't want to stand out. She...
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poppy
I felt immediately more comfortable in the coffee shop. We settled into the back corner and Mary brought our drinks over to our table, with an extra slice of vegan chocolate cake on the side. I eyed Lewis as he took a small sip of the piping hot hot-chocolate with extra whipped cream and marshmallows.
"Hot chocolate?" I asked.
He wiped the whipped cream mustache from his top lip and smiled, shyly. "I don't really drink coffee," he said.
"You don't drink coffee? How the hell do you survive the early starts?" I asked. "Don't tell me you actually get enough sleep?"
He laughed. "A solid eight hours, every night."
Seeing him hunched over his fluffy drink, he seemed smaller. Maybe the chair he was sat in was slightly caved in, or maybe it was because he wasn't sat beside me, leaning over my shoulder ever so slightly, making sure the notes I was filling my notepad with were correct.
From across the small coffee table I could no longer make out the aftershave he was wearing, the scent had been replaced with baked goods and the rich scent of coffee beans.
I was half surprised that Lewis had agreed to come here. Last week he had jetted off home without looking back. I had been reluctant to ask, but at last minute the words had fallen out of my mouth before I could stop them. But he had agreed, and he didn't like coffee. That was a good sign. Right?
"How come I never see you around school?" he asked.
His auburn hair was a mess. His jaw was covered with the start of a five o'clock shadow, but it worked on him.
"You don't?" I asked.
"Never. I didn't know who you were until last week," he admitted, though judging by the sweet shade of pink his cheeks were turning, he was embarrassed to do so.
"I don't know," I said. "I knew who you were."
I knew of him. I didn't know who he was, per se. I had seen his giant frame walk down the hallways and I had seen him running across the football pitch during PE. I didn't know he was a tutor, until Miss Jensen had given me his name.
"I feel awful," he said quietly. "I thought I knew everyone."
"You did," I said, giggling. "Well, almost everyone. So that's something, right?"
He was shaking his head, as though it was an etch-a-sketch and the movement would remove the blush-pink from his face. But it was to no avail. If anything, they deepened in colour.
"I don't know," I said again. "I don't do anything to stand out."
I shrugged. For as long as I could remember, Faye and I merely came to school to leave again. Extra-curricular activities were a no-go. Lunch-time clubs were not an option. We spent lunch times in the woods next to the carpark, or off school grounds. And the minute the bell rang for home time, we were gone like the wind, bullseye.
