After April’s tantrum last night, the music didn’t cease until 8pm when mum stormed into her room and they had another screaming match. A couple of slammed doors later, the house finally fell into a state of quiet and I could remove my headphones while I continued reading The Great Gatsby. 

When I finished the book though, I stayed up on my phone, scrolling through threads and playing games, as I listened to the creeks of the house. I should have gone to sleep, but I couldn’t.

I had relinquished all hope that April would crawl into my bed after a fight with mum more than a year ago. But that didn’t mean my sister hadn’t found another way to deal with her anger. As the clock passed midnight, my heart sank to hear her door close down the hallway and the groan of floorboards under the weight of her feet by my bedroom.

Poking my head out the door, I squinted in the darkness to see April, fully dressed up, makeup layered on thick. A kangaroo caught in headlights, she turned to look back at me, relaxing to see it was me and not mum.

She brought a finger to her lips then turned to keep walking. 

“Don’t forget your promise,” I whispered.

Pausing on the step for a moment, I wondered if she would say something. If she would look back at me. But whatever resolve she had come to, she suddenly kept walking, out of my sight.

To say I was tired would be an understatement. It was the first day back for the term and,  dressed in my senior shirt and school skirt, I barely had time to remove the headphones from my ears when a girl ran through the crowd filing out of the bus, throwing her arms around me.

After I got over my moment of shock, I wound my arms around her small frame. “Hi Evie,” I laughed.

Silky blonde hair tied into an adorable bun and no need for any makeup, she pulled away from my chest and grinned her pearly white smile at me.

Puberty had been kind to my best friend. She lost all of her baby fat, highlighting her gorgeous cheekbones. Her hips and breasts had filled in, giving her a much more womanly shape. Though the height department had never worked in her favour. On the other hand, she barely had to try with her skin, with a pimple only gracing her tanned complexion once in a blue moon.

Unfortunately, I was still as lanky as ever. My boobs had barely said hi (which April surely didn’t struggle with at my age), my butt was non-existent. And my knobbly knees weren’t flattering regardless of whether I donned the skirt or shorts. Self-conscious by my acne-prone skin, I chose to wear my long chocolate brown hair out more often, using it as my safety curtain. My only redeeming feature was my hazel doe eyes, their shape almost a replica of April’s despite being different in colour. 

“I missed you,” Evie cooed when she disentangled herself from me, linking her arm through mine as we walked onto the school grounds. 

“The holidays were only two weeks,” I stated. To our dismay, my Aunt Ronnie had gone on cruise during that period, meaning I had no excuse to come out to see her the whole time. Nonetheless, we texted and called multiple times a day.

“Two weeks too long. I felt like I was going to die without you.”

My heart skipped a beat at her comment. I should be used to such claims by now, but Evie’s affection never failed to rouse some unexplained bodily reaction from me. 

“What class do we have first?” I asked when we had reached the undercover area.

“English,” she groaned.

“English is good.”

“For you. You have Miss Fitzgerald while I’m stuck with stupid Mr Peterson who isn’t supposed to even be an English teacher.”

“How funny is it that I get to study F. Scott Fitzgerald with Miss Fitzgerald,” I mused.

“Trust you to be thinking about that and not the fate of my education. Anyway, we only have five minutes before the bell and I have some pressing matters to tell you about before we have to run to class so let’s stop talking about stupid English for a second.”

“What is it?” I pressed.

“So on Saturday, I was at Joe’s birthday party—”

“Joe? As in Joseph Waters?” 

“The very one. Anyway, I was walking to the toilet when—”

“Since when do you know or hang out with Joseph Waters?” He was in the year level above and certainly not in our circle of people we spoke to… people Evie spoke to.

She came to a stop and deadpanned at me, evidently annoyed I’m not letting her finish her story. But I couldn’t stop the unease in my stomach as she spoke about this person she wasn’t normally close to. “He came into my work at the beginning of the holidays and chatted me up while ordering some KFC and next thing I knew he sent me a friend request and was inviting me to his birthday party. Okay? We good? This isn’t the important part of the story.”

“Okay okay… Continue with your story.” The knot in my stomach was still present though.

“So I was walking to the toilet when suddenly I heard some guys mention your name. In my awesome spy mode, I crept closer, pressing up against the wall like Kronk does in The Emperor’s New Groove… but without the weird humming. And then I got to hear every detail of their conversation. And oh my gosh, May… It’s a story.”

I had forgotten the knot momentarily, engrossed in Evie’s recount of the encounter. Had this been back then or before, I wouldn’t be surprised people were talking about me. It was always about my connection to April or the things that had happened… but much time had passed since then. Most people had gotten over the old gossip. With April long gone from school, no one talked about her anymore. I had thankfully faded into the masses for the first time since primary school. 

“This group of year twelves, friends of Joe’s, were playing truth or dare in the living room. And one of them had asked this guy if there was anyone he’s ever had a crush on who he felt he couldn’t ask out. He refused to answer, deciding to skull his drink instead as punishment, but then his friend blurted it out for him. Said that it was time he just tells May Moretti that he’s always been in love with her. Can you believe that? Someone loves you!”

Seeing the excited grin on Evie’s face tied with her last comment made my heart drop in my chest a little. Someone loves me… but it’s not her. 

“Um, can you please be excited?”

“Why? I don’t know them.”

“Oh right… I left out the best part. So the guy who likes you… Is Rowan Hart!”

My brows came together as I cocked my head to the side. “As in  the Rowan Hart who wins the art award every year?” I had been dying to get the award myself, and hoped that my performance in senior art would see me steal it from him. But I would most likely not have the chance until he graduated at the end of this year.

She nodded vigorously, grabbing my arms as she jumped up and down. 

To be honest, I was flattered to hear this, even if it wasn’t true. It was thanks to Rowan’s art that I came across at the end of my first year of high school that I fell in love with the subject. His way of communicating through any medium had always inspired me. 

As Evie continued to gush about Ashlyn’s upcoming party on Friday and how he would be there, I tried to rack my brain for an image of the guy. But I came up short. I knew his name. Knew his work. But could not, for the life of me, remember what he looked like or if I ever met him. 

So it all seemed less magical. 

Even worse, Evie’s continued excitement in front of me made it hard to focus on anything. Because a part of me always hoped I would see some flicker of jealousy had I ever dated someone not her. Some sign that she felt an inkling of the feelings for me that I felt for her.

The bell rang and she gave me a quick hug before she ran off in the other direction. I adjusted the bag strap on my shoulder and headed off to my first class for the day.

“Who did the reading over the holidays?” was the first question Miss Fitzgerald asked as we all took our seats.

I lazily raised my hand and gave a curious glance around, grimacing to realise I was the only one to do the task. She gave me a quick smile before adorning her familiar teacher's scowl and proceeded to give the ‘I’m not mad, just disappointed’ speech that led into ‘you’re in year eleven now and you need to take this seriously if you want a good OP’. 

This was typical for my class. As we made the shift from junior secondary to our senior years, everyone was still slacking off. Meanwhile I, who never really socialised with my peers beyond what Evie made me do, had no trouble with the harder work load. 

Besides, keeping on top of my school work and ensuring I got good grades was key to staying in the good books of my parents. I had to live up to what April achieved. And I had to make sure my parents never questioned my motives for visiting my aunt all the time.

When she had finished her spiel twenty minutes later, the lesson plan had changed. We were instructed to open our books and start reading as a class. But as one of my peers began reading the first chapter out loud, Miss Fitzgerald plopped a sheet of paper on my desk.

“If you don’t want to read along, you can move ahead with the context task I had originally planned today,” she whispered to me, crouching down to my height.

I thanked her, turning the sheet around and beginning to glance over it.

“Can I listen to music?” I asked.

She nodded before getting back to her feet to stop the reader and explain the part he had just read.

Slipping in my headphones, I turned on one of my favourite songs, drowning out the class around me as I began to read the background sheet and respond to the questions.

Legs straddling the bench, Evie pulled out her homemade ham and cheese sandwich while I bit into my pie that I had bought from the tuckshop. 

“So how many had read the book in your class?” she asked through a mouthful of bread.

“Just me,” I groaned.

“Seriously? There were at least two in mine, not including me.”

Rolling my eyes, I said, “Chew and swallow before you talk.”

“Yes mum,” she grinned.

“And you thought I had the better class,” I said, getting back to the previous topic.

“At least you will learn more. We are still re-reading the book. And Mr Peterson didn’t even bring extra materials, while you know Miss Fitzgerald will.”

I shrugged. “Would have been nice to start the book analysis discussions straight away.”

“Oh well. That’s just how—” But she cut off mid-sentence, eyes going wide as she looked over my shoulder, sandwich paused halfway to her mouth. “Oh my gosh, May!” she exclaimed, hitting my shoulder multiple times as a grin spread across her face.

“What?” I asked, turning my head to see what she was looking at.

A group of boys were walking down the undercover walkway in our direction, laughing and chatting. Though as we looked over their way, the tall, lanky boy in the middle, with honey blonde hair parted down the centre that just graced his ears, glanced over to us. He looked oddly familiar, but I couldn’t place how I knew him.

Eyes wide with alarm, he paused in step. Noticing, his friends turned their gazes to us, grinning and smacking his arm, before they pushed him over towards us, keeping their distance. He stared down at us, at me, hands all the while fiddling with his bag straps.

“Hi May,” he said, pink tinging his cheeks.

“Hi,” I said back, trying to refrain from furrowing my eyebrows.

“Are you going to Ashlyn’s party on Friday?” he asked.

“You bet she is,” Evie chipped in.

But he didn’t look at her. His eyes stayed on me as a goofy smile slipped on his face. “Great. I’ll see you there.” Turning around quickly, he rejoined his friends, talking to them in hushed voices as they continued to walk. But before they rounded the corner, he stole another glance.

“Who was that?” I asked, looking back at Evie.

Her lips went tight, one eye twitching. “Obviously Rowan. You know his name but not what he looks like?”

“I only know his art. He looks familiar…”

“He used to go to the skatepark a lot when we were in primary school. And he hung out in the music block sometimes when we used to go there with April before…” But she trailed off, eyes glossing over momentarily. I knew where she went, because I went there myself at the same time. After she took a couple of moments to remember, she shook her head, coming back to the conversation. “Anyway, now you know what he looks like. What do you think? Cute?”

“I guess?” I replied. He had the same hair shade as Evie, which he had going for him. 

She shook her head as she stared at me in disbelief. “One of the coolest guys from the year above is totally into you and you’re just acting all nonchalant like it isn’t the best thing that has ever happened.”

“Hasn’t he dated like every girl in his grade?”

“Yeah. But they never lasted long. Probably because he was always thinking about you while with them.”

I shook my head and took the final bite of my pie. “You don’t know that.”

“But what do you think? Would you date him?”

“I don’t know him.”

“What does that matter? He is bound to steal your heart once you get past his dreamy looks.”

“Firstly, terrible pun. Secondly, would you like me to find you a towel to mop up that drool? If you like him so much, you date him.”

“What part of ‘he has loved you forever’ do you not get?”

“The fact that we haven’t heard this from his mouth therefore we shouldn’t spread rumours?”

“But he’s so hot, May!”

“Looks aren’t everything.”

“Yeah. Okay. Sure. He’s gorgeous and he’s good at art. You two have a lot in common.”

I tried my best to not react to her compliment, but my heart betrayed me, giving a slightly harder thump. “Say you’re right and he likes me. So what?”

“So you should totally date him.”

“Why?”

“So you’re not single for the rest of your life?”

“I’ve dated.”

“Giving a pity kiss to Conrad Stewart during truth or dare in the tenth grade and then agreeing to be his girlfriend for a week while never actually hanging out with him is not dating.”

“All I know is firstly, I’m not interested. Secondly, we don’t even know if he likes me, so we should drop it.” I was trying desperately to shut this conversation down before it became a thing because seeing Evie try so hard to set me up with someone who wasn’t her was breaking my heart. But it was wishful thinking. The moment Rowan smiled at me, it became a  thing for Evie.

“Um… were you present just before? He has not once ever spoken to you. Then he comes over here and is all blushing like an idiot and asking if you will come to a party. Why would he care if you were coming if he didn’t like you?”

“I don’t know, Evie. But please can we not gossip about things we don’t know?” Heaven knows enough people have done that about me and April in our lives.

She shook her head and scrunched the cling wrap that used to surround her sandwich. “Don’t complain when you’re not sure what to do when he’s asking you out on Friday because you never bothered to talk it through with me.” She got to her feet, grabbed my rubbish and took it to the bin. “Come on. Let’s go to art and see if Miss Delgado is there already so that we can set up.”