I dropped the cash on the counter and stuffed my purchased items in my pocket. The lady, who by the name tag must've been named Alicia, grinned almost too happily at me, handing me my receipt.
"Have a great day!" She chirped like the little humanised bird she was. I forced a small smile and nodded, not really caring how fake my affection looked.
"Yeah you too!" I said in an exasperated voice that seemed to go ten octaves higher at the last part of the sentence. As I stepped out of the unbelievably sluggish automatic doors I was hit with a sudden cold blast that was the latter November weather.
The warmth that emitted from the crowds and heating of Wilkinson had made me lower my guard down, making the bitter impact of the winter wind one hundred times as powerful. I instinctively shivered, causing awkward looks from the people around me but to be honest, it was something I was familiar with by now. I sighed excessively loudly and began walking onwards, the light yet satisfying crunching of snow beneath my feet.
Jack Frost had paid us an incredibly early visit this year; snowfall very rarely fell in the muggy town of Stevenage and when it did, it was either in late December or the beginning months of the following year. Not that I'm complaining; I love snow as much as the next fourteen year old, in fact winter is my all time favourite season, as well as autumn (I'm stuck for choice between the two).
I love watching as the cold air carries ruby and amber leaves across the dull sky bringing it to life. Meanwhile bustling crowds get ready for Christmas festivities down below; the slightly overpowering aroma of coffee diffusing throughout the air, counterbalancing the equally as strong stench of tobacco and...other smokable items.
Everything about winter seemed so comforting and homely.
I'd considered stopping by at the famous Costa corner on my way to Home Bargains but instantly rid myself of the thought when I saw the line, stretching out for miles; well past the 3 shops adjacent to it anyway.
People were dressed fully in all there in-fashion winter wear, woollen hats, cotton gloves and scarves so long they need to be wrapped around your neck at least three times so you don't trip yourself. However, regardless of their seemingly snug clothing choice, you could still see them rubbing their hands and knees together, struggling to maintain their body's warmth.
I myself had just my tight fitting black leather jacket and a black beanie to shield me from the chill and they weren't doing a particularly good job. I glanced at my watch: 16:45, and the sky was already portraying it's midnight blue shades.
Luckily the Christmas lights were already lit and the yellows, reds, greens and blues created a festive stream of colour across the concrete, like a magical path from a fairy tale. The lights had a fantastical feeling to them, the way they lit up the sky was almost surreal and they would never fail to astonish the little children, grinning and waving back at the animated Santa and his reindeer.
Taking out a new pack of Extra from my pocket, I ripped off the foil and popped a piece of the spicy fresh, peppermint gum in my mouth. I began rapidly chewing it in an attempt to stimulate my muscles and keep my body warm. The original plan was to buy a piping hot cappuccino and a brownie from Costa to keep me from getting hypothermia but unless I wanted to be at the town centre after closing hours, that wasn't going to happen.
I finished up buying the odd bit or two at several different stores I'm too lazy to list and made my way down to McDonalds, near the bus station. Buying a small portion of chips for the journey home, I waited at Station E for my bus to arrive.
I've always hated waiting for buses as it would require standing for several minutes, a half hour even, for the specific type of bus to arrive. Of course there was a bench that you could sit on but when it was made at such a dramatic angle, it was much rather like a slide.
I also hated how people look at you and their heavy gazes seem to weigh your shoulders down and make you nervous. Now this is probably me being paranoid but when you're someone like me, a hater of public places and people in general, you kind of freak out from the smallest, not even slightly unnerving things.
When the bus finally arrived, people all stood up and hurried to the small, narrow door, violently pushing and shoving each other to the side in an attempt to get to the driver first and take a seat. I managed to wriggle into the middle of the crowd where it was considerably safer.
After what seemed ages but was actually a couple of minutes, I was pushed forward, causing me to trip on the step and stumble forwards toward the till-like thing that separates you from the driver. I showed him my return ticket and after punching holes into them, I took my seat.
It was unsurprisingly crowded; the bus was practically full by the time the last person handed their ticket in. The noise was extremely boisterous and blurred, I couldn't hear the words anyone person was actually saying and my thoughts were just as indistinguishable. When the vehicle started, the crescendo of sounds died down a bit, well enough for me to hear the person nearest to me as they started to converse.
"Umm excuse me, you don't mind if I sit here do you?" A timid voice asked. I looked up and saw a tall, skinny boy. His head was down and his eyes worriedly gazed into mine. I shook my head and smiled lightly, shuffling further down my seat to create room.
As he plopped himself down in the seat, my nose filled with an array of mixed scents, from sweet fruits to pungent flowers, as if he had been rolling around in a flower bed. I took a deep breath in, nose scrunched up and eyes closed, trying to savour the incredible smell. I wished I had a perfume that smelt that nice.
"Sorry about the smell," the boy began, nervously laughing. "My uh...friends thought it would be funny to dump several bottles of perfume over my hair." His expression turned solemn and he looked down for a short period, as if in remorse.
He must have felt my heavy stare on him as he quickly whipped his head back up and pulled a goofy side smile at me, making him look like a cheeky 5 year old boy rather than the 14/15 year old he actually was; well seemed anyway.
"Ha! The jokes on them though, I think I smell pretty damn good." He beamed, trying to mask the uncertainty in his voice. I couldn't help but smile at his efforts, I knew all too well how it felt to be 'punked'.
"Yup! You smell amazing! You're bound to make all the flowers jealous!" I said in an empathetically cheery voice that would certainly make that Alicia girl proud. He laughed at my cheesy remark, exposing the most extraordinarily white teeth I'd ever seen.
He brushed away his long auburn fringe to the side, away from his eyes. He glanced at me and smiled again and I swear I could see his viridescent eyes glow.
"Thanks for that, you're incredible humour has just made my day a whole lot brighter." He sarcastically retorted pulling a smug smirk.
"You're ever so welcome!" I replied, mimicking his exaggerated choice of facial expression.
A silence then fell upon us and neither of us seemed to be able start another conversation. In the end, I resorted to chowing down on my chips while staring out of the window, watching as all the trees and cars quickly blur past in a haze, like a painting that had just been smudged all the way across.
Though nothing else in particular happened between the two of us, just having someone else's company seemed to make time go twice as fast on the usually tediously long bus ride home. The silence between us was not awkward in the slightest; in fact, it was considerably soothing and comforting.
Eventually I awoke from my daze as I felt my seat spring up slightly from a sudden loss of weight. I looked up to see that the, as yet unnamed boy was leaving. He glanced back and caught my gaze.
"It's been nice meeting you. You've really lifted my spirits." He beamed, showcasing his pearly whites again. I nodded, smiling back.
"Yeah you too, uh,"
"Logan, Logan Northwest. Well see ya around!" With a final corny salute to me he hopped off the bus and out of sight. As the bus kicked back into motion I looked at the now empty seat beside me, reimagining the boy that was sitting there a couple of minutes ago.
His hair was a bright auburn that transitioned into a red at the tips. It was neat and trimmed at the back but long and wild at the fringe, the colour vivid against his pale face that was covered with numerous freckles. He was wearing skinny, Aegean blue jeans and a maroon sweatshirt that had a faded ivory feather foregrounding a circle filled with monochrome tribal patterns. The words 'Crave Freedom' were arced around the image in a cursive font.
By aesthetic, he seemed a typical teenage boy but something, call it intuition, told me that this kid was not normal. There was something deeper, more interesting behind his timorous facade that intrigued me and the more I thought about it, the more I wanted answers.
"What lies beyond those green eyes?" I thought aloud, causing people to stare for a few seconds, before returning to their own discussions. That was one of the few things I liked about buses and public transport; people are so used to weirdoes and their peculiar antics that they've stopped caring.
As I saw my stop emerge from the corner, I pressed the button and watched as the 'stopping' sign lit up and the bus began slowing down towards the dirty glass shelter where a small crowd of people were waiting to board.
The vehicle wheezed to a halt and I leapt off my seat as it suddenly jerked forward. Styling it out, I held onto the post and followed behind a line of people exiting this mini piece of public hell. After giving the driver a quick nod of gratitude, I left the bus and basked in the fresh, gently polluted air stretching my arms out dramatically for added effect.
My minute of bliss was interrupted however, by the uncannily loud roar of my stomach as it reminded of some vital information. I was still hungry. As I felt my sky high spirits get rained heavily on, I trudged back to my house and all the 'joys' that awaited me there.
I unlocked the door and was greeted by the abnormally loud click that echoed throughout the hallway. Once I'd taken my jacket and boots off, I immediately headed north-east to my kitchen where I swang open the fridge to reveal the hidden treasures that were calling my name... Nothing. Besides a tub of butter, a selection of fruit and veg and milk, there was nothing, nada, zilch.
Now usually I would be okay with the current situation and move onto the cupboard where I'd probably discover an unopened packet of Fox's Viennese Whirls to munch on and get on with life. That was on normal days, but today wasn't any normal day, today was the day I had leftover cheesecake in the fridge.
I had made it clear to the three other people in the household that I would not accept anyone eating it for whatever excuse they choose to come up with. Nobody and I mean nobody, gets between me and my cake. I mentally investigated the case asking myself questions. Who could have done it? Who had the motive? The more I thought, the more obvious the culprit became. The facts I'd deduced from my short investigation were:
• Ashleigh was lactose intolerant and therefore couldn't eat my cheesecake.
• Lincoln refused to eat any American-style food unless he was physically in the place the food originated from.
• Ashleigh was at work and wouldn't return until after 6pm.
• Lincoln was on an extremely strict diet and showed no signs of stopping.
All the evidence pointed towards Chase. He was the only other one home at the time it could've been taken and his love of desserts was almost stronger than mine; almost.
By the fact that his Super Dry jacket and converse were missing, I could tell that he had gone out, probably to one of his music clubs. This was the perfect time to get revenge. I silently snuck into his room that he had left unlocked. I didn't have any reason to be so quiet and cautious because, as far as I knew, I was alone in the house.
I made my way over to the chest of drawers bombarded with music themed stickers, posters and quotes. The middle drawer was where he kept his secret possessions, including the pocket money he didn't store in his wallet. Now what I'm doing may seem like stealing but he owed me money and not just the £5 from my cheesecake.
You see, Chase and his younger brother Lincoln had agreed to stay with me and my older sister Ashleigh so long as they paid half of the rent and tax fees. This system had worked efficiently for the past year and a half but for some reason, since three months ago, Chase had stopped paying rent.
Ash had forgiven him the first two months, accepting the fact that he was having trouble with his work, however this month she wasn't as easygoing. This was because, though my sister worked full time, 10 hours a day, 6 days a week, she wasn't earning enough for the 4 of us to be able to live 'normally'.
The landlord had suggested the four of us live together as with two workers in the household, we would have enough money to eat, buy clothes and other necessities while also being able to pay the bills.
You are probably wondering why we were so desperate to get an apartment that we were willing to share it with strangers, right?
Well, the reasoning behind that is, two years ago, my parents died in a car crash. There was a storm; the road was slippery and the sky was thick with fog. They were driving along the edge of a cliff and, you can guess the events that followed. I'm not too keen on reminiscing upon the past -especially the negatives.
The Moore brothers, who had decided to run away from their parents' abusive behaviour, (they don't go much into detail about this topic) coincidentally wound up wanting the same apartment as us. The landlord thought it would best for us to share and so we did and have been henceforth.
Anyway back to the current situation. I scrambled through numerous heaped stacks of random paraphernalia until I found a bundle of notes in the far corner; tied together with a ribbon patterned with a music score.
I gently untied it and took out enough to cover this month's rent - and another fiver for the sake of my desserts. After taking the desired amount, I tied the stash back together as accurate to his bow as I possibly could. Folding the notes carefully into the pocket of my jeans, I cautiously closed the drawer. I turned, ready to sprint out when I saw a figure in the doorway. I stood, still in my tracks.
It was Lincoln.
I instantly turned back around hoping he didn't have enough time to take a glimpse at the items in my hand, but obviously my ninja reflexes were no match for his eagle eyes.
"I saw that you know."
"Hey, I'm just helping your brother pay off his debt." I said as-a-matter-of-factly.
"By stealing from him?"
"Stealing sounds a bit extreme don't you think? I think the term borrowing suits this situation better."
"So you're going to give him his money back?"
"You know what? Just forget it!" I slammed the cash on Chase's desk, not bothering to put it back in his neat stack. Lincoln was stress personified, I just couldn't stand him and his annoying smart-ass comments. It also didn't help that my temper was as short as a hobbit.
As I stormed out of the bedroom I could hear him quietly laugh in satisfaction. My hatred for Lincoln was probably greater than the ocean. I hated him with every cell in my body and yes, I know that I should consider him my 'brother', but I just can't when he's such a bratty, rude little snob (pardon my hateful language).
I locked myself in my room slumping myself at my bedside desk and released my anger onto sheets of paper. The only good thing that came from the anger Lincoln created inside me was that it gave me inspiration for some clothes designs.
You see, I like to think of myself as a fashion designer, though I probably won't get anywhere with it. Ever since I was small I would draw my own or improved versions of other people's work- it was like my getaway from the hardships of life.
The underneath of my desk was tightly stacked with hundreds of sketchbooks crammed with all sorts of clothing. I refuse to throw any one design away- I even have the ones from when I was 6. My teachers always said that a bright child like me should not dedicate my life to something that could probably only ever be a hobby but I didn't listen. Back then, and now, it was just me, my pencil and my 99p sketchbooks.
After about an hour or so, I heard the front door slam closed followed by a loud, disdained sigh. Immediately I could tell that Chase had returned. Putting my book and pencil case tightly back into their designated slots and made my way to the hall.
'Chase!' I called. 'I have a bone to pick with you.'