Hello World Read online

  ‘Please,’ I smile, dropping my payment on the counter. I like Al. He’s a short, slightly podgy man with dark black hair and friendly smile. Since I’d become a regular he tries to make sure the comfy chair by one of the windows towards the back is always free since it’s my favourite spot. I like it because it’s secluded and I can draw peacefully without the hustle and bustle of people walking around and having to squeeze past me.

  I curl up in the chair and crane my neck to the right to look out of the window, watching people as they go past and wondering what their own story is. I turn to my sketchpad and start on a new page. Sketching always helps me to calm down.

  Creasing my brows, I picture Alex in my mind; his golden, sandy hair sticking out at odd angles because he never styled it, his strong jaw line and perfectly blue eyes. Everything from the smoothness of his cheeks to the shape of his ears or the way his lips set in that lopsided smile of his.

  Then I put pen to paper and try to draw him onto my page, focusing hard on every detail. Yet nothing I seem to do gives him justice.

  I can draw anything else in the world, but I can’t draw Alex.

  Albert brings me my drink and after an hour or so of frustration I rip out the page and scrunch it up.

  ‘Red?’

  I jump at the sound of that voice and drop my sketchbook. I look up to see that boy.

  ‘Seriously, stop stalking me,’ I warn, scrambling to pick up my sketchbook and stuffing it into my backpack.

  ‘Hey, I’m not stalking you, I work here,’ he laughs. I stop at his words and then really take him in. He’s wearing smart, black trousers and blue polo shirt with the shop’s logo stitched onto it, a black apron around his waist and note pad in hand.

  ‘Since when?’ I ask in disbelief. I’m in here every day and I’ve never seen him around here before.

  ‘I just started. We only just moved into town. My uncle owns this place,’ he shrugs, a smile playing on his lips.

  My mouth opens and closes again before I shake my head and walk out of the shop. The boy follows though, jogging to stay in front of me.

  ‘Wait, I just wanted to say sorry for shouting at you earlier. It’s just that it was my Dad’s car and he would kill me if it has the slightest dent. What do you say we just start over?’ he asks hopefully, green eyes shining, holding out a hand for me to shake.

  I stop and raise an eyebrow. His hair is a light brown colour, short but thick and he’s at least a foot taller than me, possibly more. He has a sweet boyish face too, friendly looking.

  ‘Look, J- J? That’s it, just one letter?’ I frown, squinting at his name badge. He laughs and shrugs sheepishly.

  ‘I don’t like people knowing my birth name. Call me Jay.’

  ‘Okay, whatever. Look Jay, you seem nice, but you don’t know a thing about me. It’s probably easier if you just stay away.’

  ‘What if I want to get to know you?’ he raises an eyebrow. The question takes me back a little, even though it shouldn’t. Although I’d had a few friends before Alex died, most people keep their distance from me now. ‘Let’s start with your name. I’m Jay.’ Jay holds out his hand again.

  ‘Neve,’ I answer wearily, shaking his hand.

  ‘Pretty name,’ he says to himself. ‘I have to get back to work, but I’ll see you around, ‘Kay?’

  I nod numbly before asking something I’m not too sure whether I want to know the answer too.

  ‘Why?’

  Jay spins back around at my question, grinning again. ‘Because we’ve met three times now and argued every time. If that’s not chemistry, I don’t know what is.’

  CHAPTER 3

  Typically for England, we get one day of the fluffy white stuff and then a week of icy slush that soaks your shoes and socks, freezing your toes.

  The next morning, after successfully not slipping over for the fifth time in the short distance it takes me to get to school, I eventually reach the bike shed and lock up my bike begrudgingly. Most people hate school because they don’t like the work or can’t be bothered. I hate school for a completely different reason.

  I hook up my headphones to my IPod and clamp them on, blasting the music loud enough that it drowns out the meaningless babble of my peers. Most of the students have no idea who the strange red head is, and I thank them endlessly for that.

  Despite my red hair, I try to blend into the background as much as possible, keeping my hood up to cover the colouring. I don’t want to be seen.

  It has gotten to the point in the term when the year sevens have gone from nerdy shorties, most of whom can fit into their own rucksack, to cocky idiots who think they own the corridors. So because of this, I have to fight to make my way around New Heights Academy.

  But like I said, I don’t mind it too much. The younger kids scowl and stare because I am older or because of my looks, because they are different to most other people. After all, none of the younger kids have bright red hair. It doesn’t bother me, because I know they are not staring or judging me because of what happened to my best friend.

  I avoid the sixth form block as much as possible, yet can’t escape the odd run in with my classmates. I keep my eyes fixated on the ground, squeezing them shut and digging my nails into my palms because I know they are talking about me. Glancing up only confirms my suspicions as they look away suddenly, or lower their voices even more than before. But I don’t need to hear their whispers for it to hurt.

  I’m an outcast. I’m not wanted here. I’m not really wanted anywhere.

  I hear a familiar laugh and cast my gaze upwards as a girl I once knew heads towards me. The laugh is so loud and high I can hear it through the noise of my headphones and a whole new hurt starts to fill me. That’s all I seem to be nowadays, an empty vessel that only feels complete when the cold yet hot feeling of pain threatens to burst from its containment. The only thing I’m really certain about.

  Kai Gelding continues to laugh, arm linked with another girl’s. I’ve never really liked Kai, I always had an odd feeling that she hates me through that Oscar winning fake smile of hers. The only reason we know each other is through Alex. The only reason we put up with each other is because Alex was friends with us both.

  I always thought Alex was a good judge of character but began to question that when he started hanging out with Kai.

  Don’t get me wrong, she isn’t a class-A Bitch or anything, I’m sure she’s lovely. She just seems to rub me the wrong way and I’ve never known why.

  But now I’m certain she hates me, because I have taken away her best friend too.

  She catches my gaze accidentally and makes a little startled motion at my presence, as if she hadn’t expected me to still be around, before her features harden and she sends me her iciest glare. Then she turns back to her friend and walks past as if I don’t even exist.

  Just like everyone else does.

  I shake my head hopelessly, debating whether to skive off morning registration where I would have to spend a good fifteen minutes under Kai’s unforgiving gaze or press on to my first lesson. I will never know the real reason I choose to do Biology at A-level. Back when I had decided to continue my studies, Alex had still been alive, so I had given myself credit that I would have some sort of future, and since I wasn’t allowed to only select the one option of art, I was forced to select at least two other classes. Those two classes ended up being Biology and Psychology.

  Yes, I think I’m crazy too.

  When Alex had died I had wanted to drop out of sixth form altogether. If Charlie and the school hadn’t pushed me, I would have been out of here in seconds. I couldn’t take it, the looks I got in the halls every morning, the whispers and remarks passed around behind my back that I was never supposed to hear.

  No one in school really knows what happened; how Alex died, or the events leading up to it. There have been all sorts of ridiculous rumours; I’d gotten pregnant with his child and in a spontaneous moment of rage, killed him for it. Or that I’d gotten involved wit
h some local drug dealers and when I couldn’t pay them back they had killed him for it.

  None of the stories were true, but there was one thing everyone knew for certain; I had been involved. Whether I was simply the cause or the one who had ended it for him, they didn’t know. I prayed they didn’t believe it was the latter, but sometimes I wasn’t sure.

  No one in school knows the real story. Except one. Just one single person.

  My tormentor.

  My anonymous texter somehow knows everything, and they won’t let me forget it.

  I finalise my decision to skip morning registration and continue trudging silently to Biology and take my seat at the back of the class, far away from everyone else. I always like to get here early, reducing the risk of having to stand out on display during the walk of shame every student has to face when arriving late.

  I shrink as close to the wall as I can, fading as much as possible into the shadows that the dim classroom provides while I unload my books and pens. My phone buzzes in the pocket of my jeans and, seeing my teacher hasn’t arrived yet, I pull it out and grimace at the familiar number.

  I know I shouldn’t open the foul texts, but they are something I can’t ignore. I press the accept button and bite my lip nervously as I read.

  Mr Finnely’s looking mighty fine today, is all it says, but it does enough to make me want to vomit. I look up just as my science teacher, Mr Finnely, strides into the room, barely noticing me before sitting down in his swivel chair and focusing on his computer.

  Mr Finnely is young, probably in his late twenties with dark hair and blue eyes. Handsome even.

  If anyone else were to read the text, they would assume we were just two girls, giggling over the latest, newest and hottest teacher in school. A bit of harmless fun.

  But I know the darker side to the message. I understand the sick, twisted joke.

  Certain I’m not about to throw up, I put my phone away and pull out a tattered old note book, only about the size of my hand, and write down today’s latest message.

  It seems silly, writing down everything that causes me so much pain and keeping it so close to me, but it’s my very own form of justice for what I’ve done. It’s why I don’t report the text messages or get a new phone.

  I do it so that if there is ever a possibility that I forget for even a moment, I can read it and remember. Remember the pain I have caused.

  No one knows about my notebook, not even my tormentor, and certainly not Charlie. It is mine, and mine alone. My own private justice.

  I stare down at the pages, starting to feel numb as I read the words.

  Dirty whore. Stupid little girl. Do you know what you’ve done? Slag. You will never, ever forget what you did. Alex didn’t deserve you, he didn’t even want you.

  ‘Morning, Red.’

  Much like I had yesterday, I jump ten foot in the air at the sound of Jay’s voice.

  The class has filled up since I last looked up and a few heads turns in my direction. I duck as much as I can in my seat, certain my cheeks are going red again.

  ‘What the hell are you doing?’ I hiss, pulling him down into the seat next to me. It’s better than having him standing up and smirking down at me, just drawing people’s attention over to us. ‘And what’s with the whole “Red” thing? You know my name, you don’t have to use that anymore.’

  Jay shrugs, dumping his bag on the ground. ‘Well, I like it. Plus, I’ve decided I like annoying you, and I can tell you just love your new nickname,’ he winks, smugly.

  I scowl.

  ‘Point proven.’

  ‘Whatever,’ I mutter, rolling my eyes and turning my attention to the front where Mr Finnely has just gotten up, ready to start the lesson. Beside me, I hear Jay chuckling quietly to himself.

  My mood dampens further when we’re told that today we’ll be studying the inside of a cow’s heart.

  Now, I’m not normally one for being squeamish. I love all the horror films and I can take a fair amount of bloody and gory scenes. But being handed a dead heart?

  ‘Hey, wouldn’t you believe it? Red’s gone green,’ Jay whispers in my ear and I have to resist the urge to hit him.

  ‘Head count; most of the class has gone green,’ I observe. ‘Are you going to be this inappropriate throughout the whole lesson?’

  ‘Moi?’ he replies innocently, pointing to himself.

  ‘Mr Ellsworth.’ Mr Finnely suddenly addresses Jay. Jay visibly pales as he turns away from me and back to the teacher. I can’t help but smirk. ‘It’s good to see our new student settling in well but perhaps you could focus more on the board than your new classmates.’

  My smirk drops and I feel myself going red again. My new nickname is becoming gradually more applicable.

  ‘Can you tell me, Mr Ellsworth, the function of the Baroreceptors?’

  I watch as Jay’s throat works before he smiles broadly, confidence oozing.

  ‘It monitors the blood pressure, sir,’ Jay grins triumphantly.

  Mr Finnely smirks and nods.

  ‘Congratulations, Mr Ellsworth. But may I suggest that in future when a teacher asks you a question, you answer him without referring to the text book you think I can’t see,’ he finishes before turning back to the board.

  A small eruption of laughter settles across the class and Jay shrugs.

  ‘Worth a try,’ he grins, glancing down at the textbook I hadn’t even realised he had out that was currently balanced on his lap to make room for the heart that now sits in front of us.

  I shake my head but can’t help the small smile that plays on my lips.

  I manage to survive the lesson, more or less, and as we are packing up Jay turns to me and says, ‘I’m working at the shop later, feel free to pop by.’ Then he winks and walks out of the room.

  Raising my eyebrow, I watch him leave. To be honest, I would have found my way to the coffee tonight whether he was working or not.

  My timetable consists of two free lessons, or “study periods" as the teachers like to call them, so I hide myself in the library for two hours, doodling in my sketch pad before my art lesson starts.

  I like art lessons, I don’t have to talk to the teacher much and I can just transport myself into my own world and draw, sketch or paint for an hour.

  At around four o’clock, I pack up my things and ride over to the creatively named, Al’s. Jay regards me with amusement as I walk in but I decide to ignore him, waving hello to Albert and dumping some cash on the counter before settling in my usual seat.

  I turn up my music and close my eyes, waiting for some sort of inspiration to hit while I tap my pencil against the pad. Opening them again, I look around me until my eyes settle on Jay, who is too busy serving coffee to notice me.

  Tilting my head, I take in his tall masculine figure and high cheekbones. His features are sharper and more defined than Alex’s. I had noted yesterday that he had green eyes but the more I think about it, the more I realise they are speckled with flakes of gold.

  Absently, my hand starts moving across the page and Jay’s face starts to take form. I draw the basic structure and then start filling in the little details, starting with the different flakes in his eyes. Then I add in the small, barely visible line of freckles long his nose and the little dimples that appear whenever he talks to customers.

  This time, when Jay appears though, I am ready for him and take my not jumping-in-the-air-like-a-terrified-cat as a victory, quickly flipping a new page over the drawing of Jay before he can see it.

  ‘Do you ever leave?’ Jay questions, pulling a chair over.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be working?’ I raise an eyebrow, hugging my sketchbook to my chest.

  ‘Coffee break,’ he grins happily, holding up his own Latte. ‘So, tell me, Red, how long have you lived around here?’

  I regard him curiously for a moment, trying to figure out whether he’s being genuine or not.

  ‘For as long as I can remember,’ I say after a moment, watching his every
reaction. To my surprise, he seems genuinely interested. ‘My parents died when I was three, so I live with my uncle Charlie.’

  Jay face softens. ‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

  ‘Don’t be,’ I shrug, looking out of the window. ‘I was too young to remember them.’

  ‘Still, it can’t be easy,’ he frowns, leaning back in his chair.

  I shrug again. ‘Having Charlie is all I’ve ever known, so the way I see it, I can’t miss something I never had, right? Besides, Charlie is great.’

  Jay nods, wrapped up in his own thoughts.

  ‘What about you?’ I ask after a moment of silence passes over us. Jay blinks as if just registering what I’ve said before becoming animated again.

  ‘Change of scenery,’ Jay answers thoughtfully. ‘We just moved up from London. Plus we have family down here.’

  ‘Wow, London. That certainly makes a change from here, huh?’ I laugh.

  ‘Ah, it’s not as great as you’d think, there are too many people. You can’t go anywhere without getting knocked over,’ he muses.

  ‘Still, it must be pretty amazing,’ I sigh in wonder. I have only been to London a few times, once with Charlie to view the galleries and a couple of others on various school trips.

  ‘Jay! I know she’s pretty but leave the poor girl alone and do some work. The toilets don’t clean themselves you know!’ Albert bellows from the counter, winking at us.

  ‘Glamorous,’ I comment.

  Jay gulps down the last of his coffee and cringes. ‘He’s only joking, I don’t really clean toilets.’ Then his face falls. ‘I hope.’

  ‘I’d better be going anyway,’ I laugh. I have been there for at least two hours, possibly more and my stomach is growling.

  ‘Wait,’ Jay suddenly says, picking up a spare napkin and jotting down something with his pen. He hands it over to me and dashes off.