"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt-" "Ah, no. 'Sokay. So you're my, we're,"
"Ametic, yup." "You want to take a walk?"
Pretty Boy looked down at himself, then at me. "We should proba'ly change first?" Pretty Boy had a point.
After changing and flattening down non-existent creases on Pa's black shirt, we slip out the back door, to a much quieter street, Dandelion, I think. Green, green, green line the pavements and it's all so magical. We stroll up the street. Everyone was at Mrs. Lehmann's so it was quite deserted. Silence enveloped us and the sound of gravel under our feet hummed in the background.
"Um, Haruka. Yeah, that's my name. You can call me Haru." "I'm Asher. There are a variety of nicknames I go by so feel free to use a common or create a new one." Pretty Boy is one of those people who can make you laugh, I can already tell. Sorry. Asher. "Ash, is it okay if I call you by a common one?" "Sure, man," he says, chuckling lightly.
"How come I've never seen you around?" "Well, I don't know really? I mean, I've been here all my life. I actually cycle around a lot." "Well you see, Asher, I don't. I run in the night and that's all. I'm not good with words or talking to people." "Huh, makes tow of us. Where do you stay exactly?"
"Um, Daffodil Street, the very last house." "That's what, a five-minute drive from here? I cycle 'round there too. Never seen you though." I shrug and stare down at the grey, grey, grey pavement. Ash clears his throat. "Hey, Haruka. We should proba'ly head back."
"Yeah, that's a good idea. My mother's probably freaking out right now. Son duties, God." Asher smiles a little, and hey. He has those perfect dimple dents on both cheeks. I wonder how I look to him. My skin, my hair, my eyes. My colours. Everything. Suddenly I'm self-conscious.
Asher, still smiling with pink, pink, pink lips, says, "I can help out with your catering now, Haruka. I'll be excellent, I promise." "Sold."
We make our way back to Tulip Street and I start getting anxious. What if I was needed desperately for the catering? Is Ma going to be pissed? Probably. Oh no, no, no.
"Everything okay, man?" I stop walking and shake my head no. He takes my hand in his much, much bigger ones. He claps my hands together with his and when he lets go, my hands blush red, red, red. Oh.
"'Food Wars!', right?" He nods sheepishly, and suddenly I feel less tense. "It's going to be fine." "Right,"
And Asher was right. Ma had hardly realised I had gone. I decided to tell her about the whole Ametic thing at home. For now, I wanted to cater and hopefully, get to know Asher better.
"Asher's a nice boy. When'd you meet him?"
"He is, and I met him when I went to the bathroom, Ma," I say, knowing full well that she was going to get all worked up.
"Care to explain, young man?" she says with raised eyebrows.
"I will, at home." She lets it go and I'm relieved.
How's everyone's summer going?
YOU ARE READING
What We're Made Of.
Teen Fiction"The rest of the world was black and white, but we were in screaming colour" -TS.
