《Circumstance》 1. Sylvia

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SYLVIA

Nothing can prepare you for the unexpected. A handsome young man performed a perfect service ace on the TV screen. Tich swallowed, admiring his form in a moment of undisguised infatuation before she remembered where she was. She sat up straighter on the sofa, and glanced quickly at Sylvia to check whether her best friend had noticed. Fortunately Sylvia was distractedly rubbing her temples. ¡°Honestly, I fail to see the family resemblance,¡± Tich concluded, as if it was something Sylvia hadn¡¯t heard a million times before. She squinted at her beautiful blonde friend, with her freckles and dimples and the baby fat in her chin, and then made a show of looking back at Sylvia¡¯s brother - the famous Alan Holmes, a muscular Adonis, powerful and strong. The most powerful Sylvia had ever been was pushing Tich off the sofa in order to wrestle for the last chocolate bar. ¡°How is he your brother? How is he such a superstar, when you¡¯re like me? Positively normal?¡± Sylvia laughed and threw a small cushion at Tich. ¡°Don¡¯t you ever get tired of asking that?¡± Tich hugged the cushion tighter. ¡°Maybe I¡¯ll believe it if I ever meet him - I¡¯m still not convinced those family photos aren¡¯t fake!¡± Sylvia shook her head, half way between exasperation and amusement. Tich was glad to have distracted her from the headache. ¡°Why would anyone fake that?¡± she snorted. ¡°Trust me, he¡¯s a lot more annoying in person.¡± But even though she said that, she beamed with pride at her brother on the TV. Alan had been scouted when he was thirteen. He¡¯d been given all the best training and every opportunity to succeed. Everyone knew he was going to make it big some day. Maybe he¡¯d even manage to win Wimbledon! Sylvia couldn¡¯t help but brag about him. Maybe that was part of why Tich had such a crush on him - because anyone Sylvia admired couldn¡¯t be anything less than extraordinarily amazing. ¡°There are some real weirdos in the world,¡± Tich said seriously. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t put it past someone, somewhere to have done so.¡± ¡°Is this your way of confessing it to me?¡± Sylvia asked, suddenly aghast. ¡°What?¡± Tich blinked at her. Her best friend was crouched on the sofa staring at her suspiciously. ¡°What?! No! I do not have any weird photos of your brother.¡± ¡°What about normal ones?¡± Sylvia checked, narrowing her eyes. Tich flushed a deep pink. ¡°Oh my God, Sylvie. No!¡± She buried her head in the cushion, as her friend cackled hysterically. ¡°Don¡¯t pretend I didn¡¯t see you with that magazine article about him last week!¡± ¡°Oh, really?¡± Tich threw the cushion to the side and jumped to her feet. Then wished she hadn¡¯t. Sometimes she forgot how small she was. Even with Sylvia sat down, she was barely a foot higher than her. ¡°Well, you¡¯re one to talk, Sylvie. You¡¯ve practically got a shrine to Mark Layton on your bedroom wall.¡± ¡°So what if I do? Mark¡¯s not related to me,¡± Sylvia said, grinning mischievously up at Tich. ¡°But I¡¯m joking, Tich. Chill.¡± She waved Tich back down onto the sofa. ¡°You know I think it¡¯s cute you like him.¡± Tich flopped back down, puffing out her cheeks childishly. ¡°Don¡¯t patronise me,¡± she grumbled, aware that she was being petulant. They watched the match for a few more points. ¡°So, when do you think he¡¯ll come home?¡± ¡°Honestly, Tich, I don¡¯t know. His trainer keeps them on a pretty strict schedule. And he doesn¡¯t like it when the team aren¡¯t spending quality time together.¡± ¡°So he gets to go gallivanting around the world while you¡¯re stuck here with me?¡± She grinned at her friend, but when she looked over at Sylvia her best friend was oddly serious. ¡°You know, I was jealous when he got scouted. Initially. But when I realised how hard he had to train I realised I was the lucky one. Besides,¡± she paused and then shot Tich a cheesy grin. ¡°There are worst places than being stuck here with you.¡± Tich laughed. Then whistled when Alan pulled up his shirt slightly to mop up the sweat from his brow, revealing toned abs beneath. ¡°Oh, gross.¡± Sylvia pushed her when she realised what Tich was doing. ¡°You¡¯re such a perv! Honestly, it¡¯s bad enough when Marilyn does it.¡± Tich cackled. It was really for show. Sylvia always go so wound up over it. ¡°Only because Marilyn does it to every guy on the planet. She sets the bar low.¡± That was why she stepped right over it. ¡°So you¡¯re saying you have better taste?¡± Sylvia asked, wrinkling up her nose. ¡°Why is it that of everyone on the planet, you had to choose Alan to find attractive?¡± Tich pushed Sylvia¡¯s arm off her with a laugh. ¡°Hey, I like lots of people.¡± ¡°Name one other person,¡± Sylvia said, sceptically. ¡°Well, I wouldn¡¯t say Mark was unattractive,¡± she said, waggling her eyebrows at Sylvia suggestively. Sylvia rolled her eyes. ¡°You and Marilyn should set up a club.¡± ¡°Who says we haven¡¯t?¡± ¡°Tich, the idea of you actually having a fan club for anyone, even Al, is about as likely as you turning up at my door in a frilly pink dress and heels because to hell with gender stereotypes, you just want a guy to say you¡¯re pretty.¡± Tich grinned. Of course, that kind of feminism was really more Sylvia¡¯s thing. Tich wasn¡¯t trying to make a point with her clothing choices. She just liked to be comfortable. She¡¯d been running on the school athletics team for as long as she could remember. The idea of high heels, and what those could do to her feet was horrifying. She could fall and break something. She might never run again.The dress was laughable for other, less flattering reasons. Tich wouldn¡¯t be able to fill out a bodice. People could complain about their weight all they liked, but Tich wished they¡¯d have a little more compassion for the forever flat chested. She was aptly named. Skinny and no taller than the average twelve-year-old. That was what happened when your mother refused to believe being gluten intolerant was a thing. Between her physical stature and the crew cut, any kind of dress just didn¡¯t suit her. ¡°Hey, I like pink,¡± she protested. Sylvia snorted. ¡°Well, on that note, I¡¯m getting a refill.¡± Sylvia stretched and grabbed her glass off of the table before leaping to her feet. ¡°Do you want anything?¡± ¡°Only for these ads to be over!¡± Tich exclaimed, snatching up the remote an flicking through the channels. ¡°You goose,¡± Sylvia laughed, shaking her head. Tich heard her footsteps going down the hall to the kitchen and flicked through the channels, trying to find something more interesting. News. An expose on chimpanzees. Soaps. A cooking show. A documentary about China. She heard a glass smash and shook her head. Sylvia was so clumsy. ¡°Are you alright?¡± she yelled. Sylvia didn¡¯t reply. Tich sighed and reluctantly got to her feet, pocketing the remote out of habit. She might as well help clean up. That was when she heard Sylvia¡¯s mother yelling for help.
There was a funeral. Tich was still reeling over what had happened. Her dearest, most wonderful friend was gone. One moment everything was normal and the next... She¡¯d thought this shouldn¡¯t be possible. Surely they had better medical knowledge these days to prevent this kind of thing? But Sylvia had shown no signs. She¡¯d just passed out in the kitchen, and never woken up. No matter how much Tich had pleaded with her to open her eyes. Sudden Unexplained Death. That was the technical term. As if having an official title for ¡®we don¡¯t have any idea what happened¡¯ was helpful. Even after the autopsy. The brightest medical minds were clueless about what had happened to Sylvia. It was meant to be rarer in girls. It might be genetic. She kept replaying this scene in her head of the paramedics trying to get a case history and Sylvia¡¯s mum just repeating ¡®I don¡¯t know¡¯. Possibly her grandfather had it, but Sylvia¡¯s dad never talked about his family. Sylvia¡¯s heart had simply stopped, and Tich didn¡¯t know how to live with that knowledge. She hadn¡¯t gone to school. Her parents had taken her to grief counselling. She¡¯d cried a lot. But none of it had brought Sylvia back. Now she stood with their friends at the wake; Marilyn, still dressed like a hooker because that was the only kind of clothing she owned ¨C at least it was black, Helen, whose round red face was even redder from the tears and whose black frock made her look even dumpier than usual; and Camilla, who¡¯d made the effort of not making the effort to look eccentric. A smart, plain suit, unadorned by her usual hats, bangles, feathers and sparkles. For once she looked neither confident, or deranged. She didn¡¯t look like herself. None of them did.The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. Tich felt Sylvia¡¯s absence dearly. How she would laugh if she could see them right now. Alan Holmes and his team were standing with his parents. She couldn¡¯t even look at him. She wanted her best friend back. She wished she could replace all the famous people in the world, if she could only wake up from this nightmare. But the priest said his words, and they lowered her coffin into the ground. The earth took her. At the wake their school friends came up to the four of them and said their condolences, and swept onto Sylvia¡¯s parents to repeat the same empty words. A few of the girls giggled when they saw Al and his friends. The guys made snide comments. Tich didn¡¯t even have the energy to get angry. She hugged Sylvia¡¯s mum and dad goodbye, and left without a word. They¡¯d asked her if she would speak. But she hadn¡¯t been able to find the words. So, Camilla had said some lovely, eloquent things. Everyone kept telling Tich what she should do. That it would make her feel better. That she would regret it if she didn¡¯t. But how could she regret anything more than she did right now? They didn¡¯t know. They couldn¡¯t know what she felt.
It was a month before she went back to school. She¡¯d driven herself mad at home, looking at photos and gorging herself on her grief. It wasn¡¯t healthy. At least school offered her some distractions. But walking in there was bad enough. Every corridor contained a memory of the two of them. Then, walking around the corner like the mockery of a daydream, she spotted Alan Holmes and his friends heading to class. Her mouth dropped open as they passed her, barely looking. She supposed another gawping girl was nothing to them, but she couldn¡¯t understand what they were doing there. There were only three of them: Alan, Victor and Jim. She remembered some rumour about Tony giving up school, and Mark Layton hadn¡¯t been at the funeral. He wasn¡¯t really a part of the team. They were muttering quietly to themselves as they rounded the corridor out of sight. ¡°Did you see them?¡± Marilyn asked, reapplying lip-gloss. ¡°Totally hot, right?¡± Tich looked at her in horror. Helen made a grunt of disapproval. ¡°You¡¯re an idiot, Mar,¡± Helen said. ¡°She doesn¡¯t need that right now.¡± She couldn¡¯t believe Marilyn was interested in chasing boys right now. How could she be acting like this. Like this was months ago. Didn¡¯t Sylvia matter to her at all? ¡°You¡¯re loss, you¡¯re missing out on serious eye-candy,¡± Marilyn said, leaning around the corner to stare at the boys¡¯ arses, and making sounds of approval. If Sylvia was here, she would¡¯ve feigned throwing up. Helen launched into a tirade about how thoughtless Marilyn was, which should have made Tich feel better. But she couldn¡¯t feel much beyond the faint nausea churning in her stomach. It kept hitting her. That Sylvia was gone. That nothing would ever be the same again. Everyone was trying too hard. To be normal. To be understanding. To act how they were supposed to be acting. No matter what they said, it didn¡¯t feel right. Tich was unsettled. Standing in the middle of her friends, she¡¯d never felt so alone. Camilla wrapped an arm around her shoulders and gently pulled Tich aside. ¡°You know this is her way of coping, right?¡± Camilla checked. Tich nodded. ¡°Being normal. I¡¯ve never seen her reapplying makeup so much in a day as she has these last few weeks. It¡¯s a mask, Tich. She¡¯s not being deliberately insensitive...¡± Tich stared at her. What was her reaction supposed to be? Was she meant to somehow validate her friends behaviour? Was that her job now? Camilla must have seen something in her face, because she stopped trying to explain. Tich didn¡¯t say anything. It was better that way. ¡°I heard he came home to support his parents,¡± Helen was saying conversationally to Marylin, scratching her cheek with a pudgy hand. ¡°That was nice of him.¡± ¡°Say something?¡± Camilla asked quietly. But what was she supposed to say? She didn¡¯t have the energy for an argument. Or even a conversation. So she settled for something more obvious. ¡°Everything¡¯s different now,¡± she said. She¡¯d wanted to meet Al before. Now that he was here, she was bitterly reminded of what could have been. What should have been. Sylvia shouldn¡¯t have died for a start. ¡°I know,¡± Camilla said. It didn¡¯t help. ¡°And I¡¯m just as sorry as you are.¡± Which somehow did. Tich was sorry. She¡¯d wanted to help. She¡¯d wanted to save Sylvia. She¡¯d wanted Sylvia to live, and she was sorry she hadn¡¯t been able to make any of that happen. She was sorry for herself. She felt so guilty, because she¡¯d been there. Right there, with Sylvia before she died, and she hadn¡¯t noticed anything. She should have been able to prevent it somehow, and the fact that she couldn¡¯t. That she didn¡¯t. That according to the doctors and therapists, there was nothing she could have done, didn¡¯t made it better. It just made her angry. Furious at the ridiculous injustice in their pathetic excuse for a world. It was never meant to happen like this. Camilla touched her arm, sympathetically. Tich gritted her teeth. She was scaring her, she knew. If she didn¡¯t control herself better, they¡¯d pull her out of school again. She¡¯d be sat alone with her thoughts. Spiralling. She couldn''t stand it. She pulled a wobbly smile out of nowhere and didn¡¯t say anything more until they headed for class.
Alan and Victor were seventeen, which placed them in the year above Tich and the girls, whilst Jim was fifteen, placing him in the year below. Tich barely saw them apart from when they walked past in the corridors, Jim loudly complaining that he hated all of his classes, and Victor promptly kicking him. Al didn¡¯t say much of anything. The girls who had been giggling and swarming around them seemed to have drawn back a bit since the morning. ¡°I heard he shouted at Elaine,¡± Helen supplied as the four of them sat down to lunch. ¡°She was trying to talk to him about tennis when he snapped, and yelled that he¡¯d just lost his sister and wasn¡¯t interested in flirting right now.¡± ¡°Ouch.¡± Camilla winced in sympathy for the girl. Tich smiled. It served them right. Empty headed idiots. They never thought about anyone else. Marilyn started fussing over a ladder in her school tights. Tich looked across to the three of them. As she watched, Victor grabbed the attention of Bethany and Paige and asked them something. Bethany pointed in their direction, and Tich looked away quickly. She caught Camilla waving. ¡°He probably wanted to know who we were,¡± Helen said, crossing her legs into a yoga position. ¡°Really?¡± Marilyn was intrigued, and craned her neck to glance at them over her shoulder. ¡°How did we get his attention?¡± ¡°She means, he probably wanted to know who Sylvia¡¯s friends were,¡± Camilla said slowly, enunciating clearly so that Marilyn couldn¡¯t fail to understand. ¡°He¡¯s not coming over here, is he?¡± Tich double-checked, not wanting to turn around and see for herself. Camilla studied her for a second before nodding. Tich could have guessed as much because Marilyn was rolling up her skirt. ¡°I¡¯m going for a run,¡± she said, pushing her jacket potato away. Camilla frowned at her, but Tich was already quick marching across the playground. Behind her she heard the others greeting Al and his friends. She had a case of adrenaline as she got changed. There was a buzzing noise in her ears as she knelt down to do up her laces. She stretched out her quads in a practised way, and let her mind go blank. She and Sylvia sometimes used to play tennis. It was just for fun. Neither of them was very good, and somehow that made it even more fun because they ended up laughing at how ridiculously bad they were. Tich had always liked to run. Sylvia used to stand on the track when they were practising for meets and cheer her on. Sylvia used to dance, but there were never many opportunities for dance performances in their town. Tich had always wanted to support Sylvia in everything she did. Stupidly, she¡¯d felt the same way for Al. Even though she didn¡¯t really know him. Every time she¡¯d seen him on TV she¡¯d secretly prayed he would win, because she knew Sylvia was doing the same.
The field was empty, which was to be expected this lunchtime. There weren¡¯t any scheduled practices. The season was over. No more till next summer. Tich didn¡¯t bother to find a timer. She didn¡¯t set off from the blocks, she simply started to jog. Slowly at first and then gradually picking up the pace, she ran and she ran and she ran until her lungs burned. The wind pricked at her eyes, and after several laps she started to get a stitch in her side. She gritted her teeth and forced herself to sprint once more around the track, to collapse, wheezing at the finish line. Her time away from school had made her a bit rusty. She used to run in order to think. Now, she ran to do the opposite. She focused on the way her muscles felt. Focused on the rhythm of her breathing, and blocked everything else out. ¡°That was impressive.¡± She closed her eyes. Was it? ¡°Not really,¡± she whispered, still panting. She heard his footsteps getting closer, until he stopped and sat down nearby. ¡°It¡¯s Tich, right?¡± She stared at the sky. She didn¡¯t want to look at him. Surely he must know the answer to that, she didn¡¯t need to tell him. ¡°Are you avoiding me?¡± She closed her eyes again. She must¡¯ve come across as very rude. That wasn¡¯t her intention. She sat up and realised he¡¯d positioned himself so that he was facing away from her, giving her space, and she smiled slightly. ¡°A little bit.¡± He nodded, stiffly. ¡°Mum and Dad said they¡¯d like to see you again,¡± he explained, as if commenting on the weather. ¡°Will you visit?¡± She shifted and wrapped her arms around her legs, hunching into her knees. She picked at her shoes, debating this internally. He turned his head to look at her, and she stared at the blueness of those eyes. Sylvia¡¯s eyes. ¡°You look like her,¡± she said, and he looked away again. ¡°Not very much, but it¡¯s enough.¡± ¡°Is that a no?¡± ¡°I¡¯ll come,¡± she said, and got to her feet. Time for another run. This time she headed to the start position, and crouched down, imagining the starting blocks. They were probably locked in the shed. He watched her. ¡°Sylvie and I had this thing,¡± she explained, tightening the lace on her right shoe where she¡¯d picked at it before settling back down again. ¡°If I could beat four thirty for the fifteen hundred, she¡¯d dance.¡± She turned her head to watch him. ¡°Did you ever see her dance?¡± He shook his head. She smiled ironically and looked back at the track again. He hadn¡¯t missed much, and at the same time, he¡¯d missed everything. ¡°She was like a petal on the wind.¡± Tich launched herself forward, and forced herself to take this one seriously, breathing steadily, in, in, out, out, setting her sight on the track ahead as she ran the inside lane, arms swinging to propel her forward. She took the corners sharply, leaning in slightly to keep up her momentum. She ran as she had run many times before, pushing through the pain as the lactic acid built up, using the balls of her feet to spring her forward. She passed him six times at about three-quarters of her maximum speed, then half way through the sixth lap, she started to sprint, full tilt, a whole extra circuit before she stopped at the half way point, her finish line. It was a 200m circuit. Al walked over to her, checking his watch. ¡°Four forty nine,¡± he answered her unspoken question. She nodded, trying to breathe again. She never broke four thirty. ¡°I lied,¡± she gasped. ¡°Sylvia was a terrible dancer. Absolutely dreadful. She had no sense of balance. But-¡± The wave of sadness washed over her as she struggled to reclaim control of her breathing. ¡°Oh, she knew how to dance for fun, and I loved watching her pretend. I loved the way she lived. She was really happy.¡± Her voice cracked. ¡°I can¡¯t believe she¡¯s gone.¡± He understood her longing. It matched his own. ¡°None of us can.¡± 2. Remembrance
| 2 | SYLVIA "What do you reckon they''re talking about?" Jim asked. He looked vaguely in the direction Al had headed after Tich. "What do you think?" Helen asked, a little too snidely. Jim threw her a filthy look. He really hated that that kind of sudden animosity. He hadn''t done anything to her. It was bad enough they''d had to come to this school in the first place without being randomly attacked by someone he was being forced to hang out with. He took a breath and pushed the thought away. Al needed this. As his friends, they wanted to help support him however they could. Even if that meant putting up with some obnoxious teenage girls. "Memories?" Camilla suggested, and the two boys looked at her. "Tich knew Sylvia best. I''m guessing the two of them have a lot to talk about, considering." Victor bit thoughtfully into his baguette. "He always planned to come visit home, but things kept getting in the way." "He put it off," Jim interrupted. When he frowned a single line appeared on the bridge of his large nose. Victor kicked him before he could dig up Al''s life history and share it round the group. Jim yelped, and shoved him in retaliation. Marilyn giggled, and edged closer to them. "So, you guys play tennis. Do you work out?" Helen snorted and went back to her pasta salad. Camilla shook her head and, unable to suppress her grin, she looked away. Victor seemed at a loss for words at this sudden change of subject, but Jim stepped right up to the challenge, flexing his arms like a body builder. "You don''t think these guns appeared all by themselves, do you?" he asked with a grin, and Marilyn''s giggling grew unbearably shrill. "Is she always like this?" Victor whispered, mostly to Camilla who seemed the least hostile of the other two, but Helen was the one who replied. "No, usually she''s worse. Just be glad she hasn''t forced you to sign her breasts yet." Victor swallowed, and tried very hard not to think about Marilyn''s breasts. She was very forward but she was stunning, with luscious long legs and an impressive amount of cleavage. Amazingly, she was into him. The issue was, she was into everyone else as well. Happy to share the love, so to speak. "How long are you guys going to be staying here?" Camilla asked, rapidly changing the subject. Victor was pensive. "For as long as Al needs," he said. Jim shifted his attention away from Marilyn for long enough to put his oar in. "But we''ll be gone by the next tournament." Camilla looked sharply back at Victor. Something about her unwavering gaze held him accountable, and he shifted his weight awkwardly, unsure what to say.
"Did she... you know, have someone she liked?" Al asked through the door. Tich frowned, and pulled her sports T-shirt over her head. She was in the changing rooms, and he was loitering outside to talk to her. She spared a moment to wonder what that would look like to anyone - a minor celebrity hanging around the changing rooms. Sylvia would have marshalled him away. She''d also have told him to mind his own business. In all honestly, Tich wasn''t even sure about the answer. Of course, Sylvia had giggled about Mark Laton, and other celebrities. But as for real people? If she had, she''d never said so. The answer probably lay somewhere in her diary. But the guys in class had always teased Sylvia about having a brother complex, and that had meant she was often ranting and raving at them. She''d been popular enough that they''d wanted to tease her. "No." She made quick work of buttoning up her school shirt, pushing her tracksuit bottoms down and kicked them off of her ankles. She''d never claimed to be graceful. "She never had a boyfriend, if that''s what you mean." Sylvia had never been kissed that Tich knew. Never fallen in love. Never had sex. Never would. Al digested that for a while, and Tich put on her tights, rolling the material up past her thighs as she thought about that. Tich hadn''t done any of those things either. It had never felt all that important before. They were supposed to have all the time in the world. Their whole lives ahead of them. "Did she have other hobbies?" Other than dancing, she assumed he meant. She wriggled into the school skirt and fastened it at the side. For a ridiculous moment she thought about rolling it up. About checking her hair in the mirror, to make sure she looked okay. It was Alan who was waiting for her. He still made her nervous. Irrationally. She bit her lip, and cursed herself. What was she thinking? She didn''t have time for that kind of stupidity. Neither did he. He was only talking to her because he wanted a connection to Sylvia. "What did she do for fun?" "What do you think?" she whispered. How did he know so little about her? Sylvia had always talked about him, to the point where Tich felt like she knew him even though they''d never met. She knew what type of foods he liked. She knew he hated rollerblading, and that he''d once been so angry with Sylvia for breaking his skateboard that he''d told her he wished she''d break her leg. Tich knew because she''d paid attention whenever Sylvia had brought him up. She''d shared everything with Tich. The good and the bad, mixed together. It pained Tich to realise that Al hadn''t felt the same. He''d barely noticed the sister he''d left behind. The sister he''d lost for good. It was too late to pick up the pieces. She blinked back tears. "Sorry?" He hadn''t heard her. She shook her head, and reached for her shoes. She was irritated. He should have known. He shouldn''t have to ask her these things. She bit her tongue and rested her head against the wall, trying to calm down. She didn''t need an emotional outburst on top of everything else right now. She didn''t want to be sent home. She needed the distraction that school gave her. The reassurance of knowing that other people also cared about Sylvia. That they missed her too. She needed ''positive thinking'' ¨C that''s what the counselor had said. She should remember the good things about her friend. Remember and share all the wonderful things that had made Tich love her so. "Please," Al whispered ¨C she heard him quietly through the door. "I wasn''t here as much as I should have been. I want to know what she was like... whether she was happy." Tich caught her breath, and brushed the tears from her eyes. "She liked horses. She''d go riding when she could, but there aren''t many stables around here or anything, so that wasn''t exactly often." She straightened up from her laces, and collected her things. "Apart from that, I guess we just did normal things. We went shopping, drank coffee in small caf¨¦s, went to the cinema, met up with friends, and went ice-skating. When we wanted a laugh we tried playing tennis." She was face to face with him on opening the door. His blue eyes were a little wide. She''d never really looked into his eyes before. "What?" she asked. "I thought she hated tennis," he said, shaking his head. "When she came to visit, she didn''t want to join in." Tich looked to the side. "She didn''t hate it. She was terrible. That''s why we did it together. We were both equally bland. But she loved it. She loved watching your tournaments on TV. She used to talk about you a lot." He nodded awkwardly, now seeing that Sylvia had probably been too embarrassed to play in front of him or his team. Tich bit her lip. "Hang on a second," she said. "Come with me." She led him back towards the school again, and quickly navigated to the year 11 cloakroom. She moved to her locker and moved all the books out of the way so that she could shove her gym stuff in, then slammed the door and opened the locker next to it. Sylvia''s locker. They hadn''t cleared it. Apparently there had been flowers on the floor and the locker for weeks afterwards. Then the flowers started to wilt, and the school had set up a memorial for her instead. Sylvia''s locker looked like all the others again. The world had moved on. Tich was reminded of it every single time she came here, and it made her bitter all over again. The combination was Al''s birthday. Right at the back behind the exercise books Sylvia would never need to use again was her abandoned tennis racket. Totally average. No professional would ever dream of using such a cheap racket, but she handed it to Al anyway. "Sylvia''s," she explained, carefully not looking at his face as she closed the locker door again. One day soon, they would have to empty it. But so far, the school had been quite understanding. "I''m glad it''s still here." "Thank you," he said, although she wasn''t sure if he was really too happy with the gift. If she''d been in his position, she probably wouldn''t have known what to make of it. He was used to handling quality stuff. The idea that his sister was using a piece of junk like that probably depressed him. "If you don''t want it," she said quickly. "I''ll take it back. It''s a good memory." She didn''t want his disapproval to taint it. Even though they weren''t good, they''d had fun pretending. She couldn''t count the number of times she''d watched Sylvia impersonating Al, and doing the commentary of her favourite news clips.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. "No," Al said, shaking his head and closing his fingers around the racket''s handle. "No, I want it. Thank you." She met his gaze and gave him a brief half smile. She was relieved. Sylvia would have wanted him to have it. Tich was overwhelmingly relieved that he didn''t misunderstand. Al looked at the locker again. "I should probably do something about that." Tich stared at him. His jaw was set in a grim line, and his eyes were serious. He was tense. Maybe he felt like he was under a lot of pressure. Tich knew she shouldn''t be blaming him for not being around. She wondered if he was doing enough of that for the both of them already. "One less thing for mum and dad to worry about." Tich''s chest felt tight. Even in this situation, she really liked this boy. She hated herself for it.
Tich felt a sickness take root in the pit of her stomach when she saw Sylvia''s house. Al''s house. His friends had exchanged some weird looks when she started walking home with them. But Al had been silent, and Tich had appreciated that. It was pleasant walking along, not talking about anything. She''d been trying her hardest not to think either. Not to notice she shape of his hands and arms as they accidentally brushed against hers. Or the way this lips curved into a smile when Victor shoved Jim into a puddle and the younger boy chased him up the hill. "I''ll go find mum," he said, heading off around to the other entrance of the house. Tich had to pause on the doorstep and swallow. Unable to move. Unable to see past her memories of this house. Victor tactfully held back, but Jim pushed on past, muttering about time wasters. "You alright?" Victor checked. Tich nodded. It was fine. She could deal with it. "Do you need something to drink?" She gagged, and ran to the downstairs bathroom, retching into the toilet. Victor followed and hovered awkwardly by the door. If she''d had long hair, he would at least have known to hold it back for her, but since Tich''s was shorter than his own, he was stuck for what to do. He didn''t really know her well enough to start rubbing her back. "Can I-?" "Sorry," she whispered. Her eyes were streaming. She was such an embarrassment. She wasn''t going to throw up every time someone asked her if she wanted a drink. But saying that here, in this house - it was little wonder when she was reliving that day. "I''m alright now." She wiped her mouth and stood up, flushing the basin even though she hadn''t actually thrown anything up. There was bile in her throat and it stung. She swallowed it down, feeling nauseous but forcing her body under control. Victor nodded. "I''ll bring you something," he said, before disappearing. She was glad of the excuse not to go in the kitchen. Leaving the bathroom, she glanced up the stairs towards Sylvia''s room. A part of her almost expected to see Sylvia running down them. Eager to see her. Tich shook her head. The TV was on in the living room. Jim had the TV on full blast, playing some kind of cartoon. From the doorway she could see there were sleeping bags all over the room, and realised Al''s friends were sleeping on the sofas. Al had a room upstairs, opposite Sylvia''s. She was relieved to see that they hadn''t touched her room, even though it was none of her business, and they could probably do with the space. "Tich?" Mrs Holmes looked thin and tiny in a dark cotton dressing gown. Tich swallowed again. She wasn''t used to seeing her like this. She walked over to Sylvia''s mum, and hugged her tightly back when the woman embraced her. "It was good of you to come." Tich thought she understood why they''d wanted to see her now. The house must not have seemed real with Al and his friends back. It must''ve felt like Sylvia was on holiday. They''d needed to see her to help reinforce their daughter''s loss. "Will you come upstairs?" She nodded stiffly, and let herself be led away. She didn''t look at Al''s face as they passed him on the stairs. She knew where they were headed. Left at the top of the stairs, and immediately left again, into Sylvia''s room. It looked different. The bed linen had been stripped away, and a lot of empty boxes rested on the barren mattress. Tich closed her eyes. She''d been wrong. As much as Sylvia''s parents might have liked to see her to help them move on, they were also trying to help her move on as well. The therapist had talked on and on about the five steps of grief ¨C denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance. Tich hadn''t had anything so clear cut. She fluctuated from one step to the next and regressed into the earlier ones from time to time. Depression and melancholy cast a constant shadow, as she warred internally between the denial and bargaining. Mostly what she came back to was anger. Outrage. Over Sylvia''s death. Or over stupid, trivial things. Everything irritated her. Nothing felt right anymore. How could it, when Sylvia was gone? She wasn''t anywhere closer to acceptance. In her eyes, it could never be okay. Her best friend had been taken from her, and she didn''t plan on moving on any time soon. The therapist had talked to her parents for a long time after that admission. Mrs Holmes smiled a wobbly smile. Tich wondered where she''d gotten to in those stupid five steps. She wondered if it was ever actually helpful to hear about them when you were living the grief. "I was wondering if you could help me," Mrs Holmes said, gesturing around them as if she was lost. "I don''t know if there was something she would have wanted to give to someone in particular, or if there were things she wouldn''t want me to see, or what wasn''t important to her in the slightest." Tich thought Mrs Holmes was very brave, and she wondered how any parent boxed their child''s possessions away. "Of course, if you want anything, for a memory, or a keepsake, you''re welcome to it. She would have wanted you to have it. I''m sure. You two were best friends, after all. She always said." Even if Sylvia hadn''t said, Tich considered, they were round each other''s houses enough for both of their parents to have long since worked it out. Tich looked at the books on Sylvia''s bookshelf, and the clothes in her wardrobe, and the papers on her desk. The jewellery. The hair ornaments. The odd souvenirs. The pictures on the walls, and the posters of horses, and Al and his friends. She knew, behind that poster, was a smaller poster just of Mark Laton. "Yeah," she said. She didn''t know where to start. "Maybe, we can put all the books in a box for now, and all the clothes in another box, and ask Marilyn, Camilla and Helen if they want anything." If she saw something while they were moving, she could always take it, but she didn''t think any piece of clothing or a book would ever be enough. Saying that, before they were even five minutes into the task, she''d already claimed Sylvia''s favourite hoodie. Victor brought them both camomile teas, and on seeing what they were doing, he''d back-pedalled from the room as quickly as he could. Hardly pausing for breath in explaining it was Tony''s turn to cook supper tonight. "Oh." Mrs Holmes''s exclamation caught Tich''s attention. She turned from emptying the desk into two piles ¨C schoolwork and creative musings. She was holding Sylvia''s diary - the purple glitter was unmistakable. Tich''s heart sank. She''d been hoping never to see it again. Never to be tempted by it. No matter the contents, they could never live up to Tich''s imaginings of what those last words could be. She didn''t want it, but she didn''t want Sylvia''s mum to have it either. Maybe she could bury it somewhere? She couldn''t give it to Al, or Camilla, or even Helen. They would read it too, and if anyone was going to read it, shouldn''t it be Tich? She shook her head, recognising that she was having crazy thoughts. Maybe Marilyn? But she couldn''t tell how Marilyn was at the moment. Marilyn wasn''t very good at expressing herself. She didn''t want to. That was why she threw her energy into other people or ideas. To hide. And what if Marilyn became absorbed in the idea of the diary? "I''ll take it," Tich offered. "I think... maybe I''ll give it to mum. To hold onto." If there was anyone Tich could trust to keep something away from her, it was her mum. Not that their relationship was very tense. They just wound each other up sometimes. Tich''s screaming was an extension of her love, the same way her mum''s overprotective streak was an extension of hers. "I think she''d have wanted that." Mrs Holmes very reluctantly handed the heavy book over to her. It was padlocked, but Tich knew where Sylvia had kept the key. Without thinking, she walked to the music box on the window ledge and took that too. The key was hidden under the packing foam in the lid, but she didn''t want to tell Mrs Holmes that in case she changed her mind and tried to take the book back from her. She didn''t know what kind of secrets Sylvia had in there. Probably nothing terrible. Probably they were normal insecurities and confessions, but Tich didn''t want to take the risk. Sylvia would have been mortified to have anyone read her diary, let alone her mum. Tich added both items to the hoodie, and forced a smile before turning back to the desk''s papers again. Mrs Holmes moved onto her jewellery, and Tich''s pile gained the other half of the best friends necklaces they''d shared, and all the friendship bracelets they''d made over the years. Tich was glad when Tony came to summon them for supper. She would be gladder still to leave them all when the day drew to an end.
"Thanks for coming," Al said, walking her home. "I think it meant a lot to them, and I know Mum appreciated the help." Tich clutched at her newly acquired belongings. She was just glad Sylvia''s dad had been drinking so she didn''t have to sit through the awkward car journey home making small talk. Walking with Al was to be infinitely preferred. Sylvia''s mum didn''t feel quite ready to leave the house. "I know this must be difficult for you too." She rounded on him, suddenly. "Don''t you find it hard?" she demanded. "Moving here, changing your life, losing her ¨C how can you be so accommodating? Aren''t you upset, Al?" His expression hardened into a grim line. "I can''t play anymore." Her mouth dropped open. Not from shock. She was appalled. "What?" Her voice had never sounded so unfamiliar. So angry. "I can''t focus," he tried to explain. She''d have ranted if not for his face. So what if he couldn''t play tennis? Had the circumstances been different she''d have hit him. Screamed what made him so bloody self-important, but she sort of understood what he was trying to say. He wasn''t good with words. Nor was she for that matter. Meanwhile, she was being aggressive again. She swallowed thickly, and looked away. He was upset. Of course he was, and he couldn''t even do what he loved to escape from the feeling of despair. It was awful of her to challenge him like that. Just because he wasn''t whinging about it all the time, didn''t mean he wasn''t suffering. Camilla would have known what to say. She always knew what to say in moments like this. Tich thought of Helen and Marilyn, and then disjointedly remembered what she and Al had been talking about earlier. "Do you have other hobbies?" she asked as they neared her street. It had always been a blessing that she lived so near Sylvia. Al''s lips parted in surprise, and Tich looked at him wearily. "Maybe you could de-stress using one of them?" He smiled wryly, and she looked away, annoyed with herself for still being a teenage girl. She hated that her heart beat in the same way that it had back then. Before Sylvia died, she''d liked Al. Not seriously, it had just been a crush, but she felt that she should feel differently now. Closing her eyes, she walked towards her front door. He watched her go. She supposed he wasn''t the type to wave. "See you tomorrow," he called. She slammed the door before she could look at his face. 3. The Outsider

| 3 |

THE OUTSIDER

Al stood on the driveway in front of his house, racket in hand. The trees encircled the patio, so that even in this open space he was cut off from the rest of the world. With his other hand, he threw a tennis ball up and down. That was the easy bit. He was staring intently at a familiar, blank stretch of wall. It had been his strongest opponent in his youth. That wall had to have received the brunt of over tens of thousands of rallies. Even now, he could remember every inch of that brickwork. Could predict how every shot would bounce and ricochet based on the angle and speed of his shot against the uneven patchwork surface. If he could just make the racket connect like he usually would, it would be nostalgic. Unfortunately, in his current state, the familiarity only served to make the experience more frustrating. He was so distracted these days. He couldn''t even seem to get a decent rally going. Even the basics seemed difficult all of a sudden. He couldn''t focus. Of course. Every time he went to serve he''d remember trying to teach Sylvia how to. Every time he ran, he''d remember a time she''d be shouting at him to slow down so she could catch up. He was off his game, and he didn''t know what to do about it. He was trying very hard not to think. Gritting his teeth, Al tried to focus on the ball, on visualising how his muscles would feel as he extended his arm to strike it at the perfect height, his racket an extension of himself. Tony stood watching him from the doorway, a worried expression on his young face. He watched Al throw the ball high into the air. "Hey!" Jim''s yell carried from the living room and broke the silence. Tony winced, inwardly cursing their youngest teammate''s poor timing, and his own choice not to close the door after him when he''d stepped outside to watch Al. Ironically, he hadn''t wanted to break Al''s concentration. The tennis ball soared wildly away into the bushes, and Al rounded on him, his cheeks stained an embarrassed and angry red. He glared at Tony. "What''re you doing trying to sneak up on me?" he yelled. Tony looked significantly at where the tennis ball had flown, and the others scattered liberally in half a dozen out of the way places. It wasn''t like this was a one-time event. But he supposed Al had every right to be paranoid. He''d be paranoid too, if he lost his talent. Without tennis, and that clearly defined career path, Al must have felt lost. Like everything was beyond his control. If he kept playing like this, he couldn''t play on the team, much less lead it. All this, just as he was about to hit the adult divisions next year? It was a lot. Tony and Victor hadn''t told the other members of their team what was going on. Jim would have had a field day at Al''s expense, but that was nothing to what Mark''s reaction would have been. Not that Tony particularly liked to think of Mark as a part of their team. He''d pretty much forced his way in because his father had paid off the coach. He could just imagine Mark trying to whip Al back into shape. As if a lack of discipline had made Al change this way. As if he could be fixed, and there wouldn''t be a problem anymore. "Any progress?" he asked, rather pointlessly. He could already see the results. Two weeks had passed, and in that time the only improvement Al could boast of was that he had perfect control of any rally, provided nothing distracted him. In other words, Al could make a tennis ball dance and spin on his every whim, but as soon as anyone else was around, he was back to square one. In a singles match, he''d be completely useless to them. Victor had cleared his throat the other day and Al had all but fired a serve over the fence. The worst thing about those moments was the expression on Al''s face. Al didn''t say anything. Instead he reached for the spare tennis ball in his pocket, and studied his racket strings. Tony sighed. "You can''t keep hiding this forever," he said, worried. More than team mates, they were friends. Al had been the life and soul of the team. He''d pulled them through every rough tournament. Every break point. He''d persevered, and that determination had rubbed off on the rest of them. "The next tournament is-" "I know!" Al yelled, and Tony pursed his lips. You couldn''t reason with Al when he was angry. The only consolation was, Al wasn''t angry with him. Al was angry with himself. The team leader was letting the team down. "I know, Tony. It''s only a few months away." "And before that there''s the qualifiers," Tony said, a gentle reminder that they really didn''t have any time left. Al looked up at Tony then, and Tony couldn''t read his expression. He really hoped Al wasn''t going to do something stupid. Like early retirement. He''d known other child prodigies drop out over less. "I''m nowhere near ready." Al didn''t look at him, and the confession was quietly ground out through his teeth. The admission cost him dearly. Tony nodded and crossed his arms to think. "We can cover for you in doubles for as long as it takes, but we''d have to start practising that now." Al closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief. "I thought... Maybe you should find a replacement." Tony''s face shut down. Of course, this situation was beyond awful, but it wasn''t that bad. "Don''t be an idiot. We''ve been playing together for five years now. How could we do it without you?" Al pursed his lips, and forced a smile. "Thanks, mate." Tony nodded and headed back inside. From the living room he heard Jim let loose another yell as Victor continued to thrash him on the games console. Sometimes he wondered how much their youngest team member really knew. Even Sylvia''s friends seemed to have picked up that something was wrong with Al. It wouldn''t be a secret for long. He shuddered to think what would happen if the media found out.
Marilyn was having a field day. Netball practice had just finished, and she''d scored three goals today ¨C her tall stature made her the perfect Goal Shooter ¨C then who should be leaning against the school''s front gates as she left, but the Mark Laton. She thought her legs would melt into a puddle as she walked up to him. "Hi," she said, breathy and seductive. She pursed her lips and fluttered her eyelashes at him. "You''re Mark, aren''t you? I just wanted to say I think you''re absolutely beautiful when you play." His expression solidified before the true terror he felt could show. He dealt with her the best way he could, which was to ignore what she''d said and make use of her to get the information he needed. "Alan Holmes transferred here, correct?" Marilyn nodded, smiling at him with dreamy eyes. She was taller than him, but from the look of her heels they were almost the same height. "Yeah." She sighed happily. "He''s gorgeous too." One of Mark''s eyes twitched, but he did his best to keep his agitation under control. "Do you know where he''s staying?" Marilyn finally noticed he had a bag on his back. "Are you?" she asked, in wonder. They had the whole team now. A perfect set. Sylvia was a lucky- She stopped the thought. She was pretending everything was normal, after all. Even though that was a rapidly diminishing dream. "What?" "Are you staying?" she asked again, smiling charmingly. There was something so attractive about the way he gritted his teeth. He must be used to being hit on, but Marilyn prided herself on being able to unsettle even the most confident individuals. Mark closed his eyes. He should have known she''d be dumb. No one intelligent would have greeted a stranger like that. Even if they were famous. He didn''t think he''d ever been called beautiful, not even by his own mother. "No," he replied flatly. Now what could he say to her to get the information he actually needed. Did he have to give her a fake number? An autograph? He hoped she wasn''t the type to try and ransom information for a kiss. "Oh." She pouted. "Well, I suppose I can take you there. I mean, it''s Friday, so Tich will be there too. I guess that would be okay." But she didn''t really want to go to Sylvia''s home. She hated it there. She couldn''t pretend. Not with Sylvia''s mum looking like that, all heartbroken.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences. "Tich?" "Sylvia''s friend." The words were hard to say. "Sylvia is-" Mark held up a hand. "Stop talking." Her mouth clamped shut. Mark didn''t care who Sylvia was. He wished he hadn''t asked about whoever the other person was too. It was obvious they didn''t have anything to do with tennis. He''d been wondering what Al and the others were up to. He''d thought they were doing some kind of secret training camp, but if this bimbo was anything to judge by, it seemed like they''d only come here to hit on girls. Mark was disgusted. "Uh." Marilyn hovered, and he reluctantly looked back at her. "It''s only fifteen minutes this way." She pointed. Mark looked at her warily. He hadn''t travelled here by plane, train and taxi, using the vague address their coach had reluctantly given up to him, just to get mislead by a gigantically tall girl with half a pound of makeup on her face. On the other hand, it was getting late, and aside from the general area he had no idea where he was going. He should have pressed Stevens harder for the exact address. Still, having made the journey he wanted to at least confront Alan about not training enough. Their next tournament was only a couple of months away, and he didn''t need Al dragging the team down. Dragging him down. Some team captain. "Fine." She stared, and he grimaced at her confusion. He''d just agreed, so why wasn''t she taking him anywhere. "God, you''re sexy," she said, then she pointed in the same direction again. "This way." She skipped down the street. Mark felt sick. Why did he have to follow a girl who''d just said that to him? He wanted to stalk off in the opposite direction to put as much space between them as possible. Yet again, he cursed himself for missing the airport connection and having to wait for a later train. He''d meant to arrive before the end of the school day. He''d meant to ambush Al at the gates. But time had royally screwed that one up for him. He''d just been waiting at the gates on the off chance that a teacher might turn up. If he wasn''t freezing, he''d probably have continued waiting, but he was cold, and he was starting to need a piss, so following this idiotic girl seemed to be the only thing he could do. He just prayed she wasn''t going to try and make more small talk.
"Are you joking?" Tich had to double check, her fingers digging into the soft, velvety fabric. Al grunted, which she chose to interpret as a think what you will. "Who even told you my birthday was coming up?" she asked. Although once she''d thought about it, she guessed it was Camilla. Helen didn''t seem to like the boys, and Al had been actively avoiding Marilyn ever since she started coming up with excuses to put her hands all over him. For all her eccentricity, Camilla was the most approachable one of her friends. Camilla liked to describe herself as artistic. She lived and breathed for school plays, or any role where should be fabulous. But for all that she acted like she''d adore to be the centre of attention, she was also the one constantly putting the rest of their needs before her own. "Milly did." Al confirmed her suspicions. "You don''t have to wear it. It''s from all of us, and don''t think it means anything. It was cheap." Tich smiled, slightly endeared to his hostility. So defensive. "Well," she said, ramming the humongous hat onto her head. It was so large that she probably looked like she was wearing a pudding. "I''ll make sure to tell them thank you." They were sitting on the patio. It had always been her favourite place at Sylvia''s house. It caught the sun. In summer they''d wheel out the table tennis table and play until they lost all the balls, which would happen in a matter of hours. Neither of them was exactly accurate with their shots. Other times, they used to practice netball shots with Marilyn, using a basketball and a huge makeshift hoop structure they''d built out of cellotape and rigged up to her parent''s balcony. They''d always meant to buy a real one some day, but some day never came. As it was, Victor had pretty much claimed the basketball. He kept challenging Jim, and roping in Tony so that they ended up playing Piggy in the Middle. She didn''t know why Jim put up with it. Al was propped up against the side of the house with his legs splayed out, eyes closed against the sun. This hair gleamed in the sunlight, and feather like shadows played across his face. Tich couldn''t help catching her breath. There was a word for it. Basorexia. The strong overwhelming desire to kiss someone. She blushed. Hating that she was still having these thoughts. Could she just control her hormones for one minute? She hunched up beside him, fiddling with her shoelaces. "What''s wrong?" Al asked. She stared at him, but he hadn''t even moved. How could he even sense that she was troubled? She searched for something more suitable to say. "Why don''t you go play with them?" His eyes flickered open, and he smiled lazily over at her. "Why don''t you?" He was like a cat, curled up in the sunlight, unwilling to move from that small patch of comfort. If she''d replied like that, she''d have sounded like a child. But he just seemed even more attractive. As if that were possible. "I''m not the one they''re missing." He looked blankly at the air for a minute before sighing and getting to his feet. Tich wished she hadn''t said anything. But only for a moment. He glanced back at her as he stretched. "That surprisingly suits you." Tich blushed horribly, her hands on her hat. "Pass it here," Al yelled to the others, turning his back on her. She smiled as Victor instantly shot it in Al''s direction, and shook her head when he passed it onto Tony, essentially making Jim''s odds of catching it even slimmer. "What the hell!" their youngest teammate complained. "Al, help me out here." Al grinned and formed a game plan, two on two, three passes before you''re allowed to shoot for goal. Tich watched them play for a minute before getting up and walking through the house to the kitchen. She''d made progress in these last two weeks, even though this was only her third visit. She''d forced herself to spend time in the kitchen, to ignore the visions she was sure Sylvia''s parents had to deal with all of the time. She reached for the empty jug and went searching for the orange squash in the fridge. Was it weird? Spending her Fridays here with the boys. They weren''t anything like what she''d imagined, but when she thought about what she''d imagined, she decided that was only right. Celebrities were people with their own personalities. How could she have ever accurately guessed what they were like having never met them before? Tich heard shouting from outside and guessed Jim was accusing Victor of cheating again. She sighed and opened the cupboard, looking for plastic glasses. The door slid open, and she turned, expecting one of the boys. "Hiya." Tich stared at Marilyn. "Hi," she greeted, a little slowly. It wasn''t that Marilyn didn''t have a right to be there; it was just unexpected. She hadn''t said anything about coming earlier in the day. Then again, that was just like Marilyn. She often showed up on the spur of the moment. Tich smiled. "Wanna help me with the glasses?" "Sure." Marilyn beamed. "We''ll need seven of them." "Oh, who else came?" She should probably call whichever of Helen or Camilla didn''t come, just so they didn''t feel left out. Marilyn giggled and alarm bells went off in Tich''s mind. "Mark Laton," she announced, jumping up and down on the spot and squealing. "Oh, my heart is still racing." Tich stared at her. Then ran through the house and went outside to have a look. "What are you playing at?" the angry yelling continued, but Tich could make out the words now. "You can''t just barge in here and demand a rematch." "I said, get your racket." Mark''s voice sounded different than it did on the TV. She peaked around the corner in time to see Al slap Mark''s arm off of him. "I''m not having a match with you," he snarled. "What''re you doing here, Mark?" "I thought you took this seriously," Mark said. "The tournament is two months away, and the qualifiers are less than that. What''re you doing here?" Al gritted his teeth, but Tony stepped in. "I fail to see how it''s your concern," he said stoically. "Unless you plan to force your way in again." Jim kicked at the ground. "Why do you keep insisting on trying to be a part of this team?" he yelled. "You''re never around. You aren''t a part of it!" "Fortunately that''s not up to you, shortie," Mark snorted and looked back at Al. "You haven''t answered the question. Unless you''re not planning on taking part this year, I fail to see how hanging out with girls," he said it like it left a bad taste in his mouth, "like that one could possibly be helping you train. I''m going to wipe the floor with you at the qualifiers if you keep getting so distracted." Victor lunged at Mark, but Al got there first. He shoved Mark back a few steps, and barely restrained himself from going further when Tony grabbed his arm. There was certainly no love lost between him and Mark, but he wasn''t going to let Al land himself in any more trouble than he could handle at the moment. Mark''s face was angry. The shove had backed him up enough to accidentally kick Sylvia''s racket where it had been leaning up against the wall. Tich''s heart sank as Mark picked it up. "What the hell is this trash?" he snarled, and Tich was so worried that he was going to do something to it that she ran around the corner and reached for it, putting an arm on Mark''s shoulder to use for leverage. She wasn''t tall enough though, and now Mark''s full fury was focused on her. Although her momentum was enough that she took hold of the racket and almost succeeded in snatching it out of his hands. "Please give it back," she begged. She''d never been the type of person to care about pride. She made her own happiness. But she had no way of wrestling something away from him. "Is it yours?" he asked, very coolly. Her face faltered. "No, but-" "Then I don''t see how it''s your business," he said, and shook her off, so that she stumbled back a few steps. "Oi," Jim yelled. A tennis ball flew out of nowhere and would have caught Mark right between the eyes if he hadn''t ducked out of the way. Sylvia''s racket clattered on the floor. Mark had dropped it in his rush to avoid a black eye. He glowered at Al as the other boy lowered his racket. The expression on his face was livid as he picked up Sylvia''s racket. "Don''t touch this," he said, very quietly, but just as angrily. Mark straightened and brushed himself off. Tich thought he was going to have some angry retort, but instead he was silent, regarding Al with judgemental eyes. "Ok," he said at last. He could recognise when Al was serious about something. The other three seemed to relax a little. Victor and Tony exchanged significant glances, and Tich realised a little belatedly that Al had been fully in control of the ace he''d served in Mark''s direction. Her mouth dropped open a little. "I brought drinks," Marilyn said, coming round the corner with a tray loaded up with snacks and orange juice. Something about their stance must''ve shown they were in the middle of something, because she decided to completely shatter the tension. "And I really think you should stop fighting over me." Victor snorted, and Tich quietly started to shake. Al stared at her. After a second, Tich opened her mouth and the laughter spilled from her lips. The uncontrollable kind brought on by dopamine imbalances in the brain. "Honey," she said, looking at Marilyn with the greatest endearment, slightly bent over from the violence of it all. "You''re obsessed." Marilyn grinned. Tich hadn''t properly laughed in a long time. 4. Necessities

| 4 |

NECESSITIES

Tich dug through the tray of green beans, trying to find a pack that didn''t expire immediately. Finding her target, she quickly dropped them into her basket, and headed towards the peppers. Then, she did a double take. Mrs Holmes stood slightly vacantly, barely holding onto her trolley, her long cardigan pulled down over her hands. It was the first time in weeks that Tich had seen her wearing anything other than a dressing gown. She looked good. She''d done something with her hair, and although Tich wasn''t sure if the makeup was to blame, she couldn''t help thinking Mrs Holmes looked healthier. More like herself. "Oh, hello," Mrs Holmes noticed her in return. "Hi," Tich greeted with a smile. "How are you? It''s good to see you up and about again." Mrs Holmes nodded and gestured at the mountain of food in her trolley. "Well, needs must and all that." She smiled indulgently. "We missed you at dinner last night, although I suppose the boys appreciated a break from your gluten-free diet. With Mark showing up too, we''ve cleared the fridge quite quickly. Those boys can really eat!" Tich blushed. Sometimes she forgot how hard her diet was on those not used to it by now. The Holmes family had been cooking gluten-free meals since Sylvia took up Tich''s diet in a fit of pity seven years ago. Of course, they didn''t need to do that anymore. Tich had been taking it for granted. "Are you here by yourself?" she wondered, eyeing up the food in Mrs Holmes'' trolley again to distract herself from the shock, then remembered her manners. "Sorry for the other day, I should have let you know I wouldn''t be there." Tich hadn''t wanted to hang around after Mark arrived. As a team, they had issues to sort out, and Tich had thought the best thing she could have done was to leave, taking Marilyn with her. "No, no, Tony and Jim are helping me today." Which left Mark at home with Al and Victor, a winning combination. "It''s very sweet of them. You know, Tony''s an incredibly resourceful fellow. Manages their money for them now that Mr Stevens is busy refusing to tell the media where they''ve gone. You know, they refuse to let me pay for anything! Not even Al''s, and he''s my son. So I thought the least I could do was drive them here. We gave Mark a lift too. Did you know he''s leaving tomorrow?" Tich''s lips parted. "It was a really short visit, but it was sweet of him to come. It''s quite a long way to travel just to check in on Al. Are you buying for your mother? How is Jo these days? Francis too. We must have them round sometime." "Where did you...?" She stopped and shook her head, suddenly irritated at herself. She didn''t need to know where they''d dropped Mark off. It wasn''t her business. "I am, yes. We''re having a stir-fry, but Mum forgot the vegetables." Mrs Holmes nodded. "That''s the problem with these three for two deals, you''re so focused on what you can get that you sometimes forget what you need." She looked at Tich and smiled lopsidedly. For a minute, she looked just like her daughter, and a wave of nostalgia washed over Tich. It was the expression Sylvia used when she knew Tich wasn''t paying attention. "We dropped him off at the park, if you''re interested." Tich blushed. She was interested ¨C but not because she was attracted to him. After all, Mark was Sylvia''s. Not that they had any right to him one way or the other. Tich closed her eyes. Logic like that was so stupid it was painful to remember, but they used to giggle and joke about things like that all the time. Even if they knew it was nonsense, they''d hoped and dreamed their silly dreams. It didn''t hurt anybody. Just themselves, in future years, when the dreams died. He wasn''t even nice. "Sorry." She shook her head and smiled. "There was something I wanted to talk to him about, that was all. I didn''t realise he''d be leaving so soon." "Well, boys do that at their age." Mrs Holmes'' smile became a little sad. "I wish Sylvia had been given that same chance. She always said she''d like to travel." "We were going to go to Egypt," Tich muttered, picking up a twin pack of courgettes and adding them to her basket. "We wanted to see the Pyramids and ride camels by the Nile." "You still can," Mrs Holmes interjected, trying to be encouraging even though Tich could imagine it was taking a great effort. "You can tell Sylvia all about it when you get there." Tich''s face froze. She had no words to respond to that, so she nodded and forced a smile. She didn''t want to say that she didn''t think Sylvia would hear her. She wouldn''t take that away from Mrs Holmes. Tich didn''t know what she believed about afterlives anymore. Heaven and Hell. God. Religion. She wanted to believe. She wanted to believe Sylvia was happy somewhere and looking down at them, but at the same time, it seemed too easy to be able to blame everything on a higher power. She''d been trying not to think about it. "I should get going," she whispered, gesturing to the shopping basket. "Mum will be wondering what''s taking me so long." The supermarket was only a fifteen minute walk from Tich''s house. She''d have expected Al''s friends to walk here too, since Sylvia''s house was closer, but judging from the huge stockpile of food Mrs Holmes was buying, she suddenly understood their need for a lift. "Alright then," Mrs Holmes said, sounding only a little sad. "Bye dear." "See you on Friday," she said, determined to give her something. "I''ll talk to my parents about having your family round for dinner sometime." She couldn''t bring herself to ignore the thought about bringing Sylvia too. If only they could.
Tich took a detour to the park. It was another ten minutes added to her journey time there and back, and she didn''t know how long it would take to find Mark, let alone speak to him, but it wasn''t like her mum was cooking yet. She wasn''t in a rush. Even so, she ran there. It was good to keep in practice. She was rather pleased that her new birthday hat clung to her head so well. She''d half expected it to fall off every five minutes so that she''d have to keep doubling back for it. It would have made a good interval training. But surprisingly, even though the pudding-like hat seemed like it should be a nuisance, it was useful. For all its obscurity and ugliness, she loved it. Probably because Al had given it to her. The park wasn''t big. There was a larger one an hour away, complete with swing sets and roundabouts for little kids. This was more of a set of playing fields, but the one thing it did have was a series of tennis courts, so she headed in that direction. Suddenly aware that the light was fading from the day. She stumbled to a stop as she passed an Oak tree and spotted Mark sprawled out on the grass, his head pillowed on his muscular arms. His racket lay on the grass beside him. What little sunlight was left threw leafy patterns onto him in sharp relief. Her lips parted slightly. There was no one else in the world that dressed quite like Mark. Not that Al and his teammates had normal tennis outfits either, but at least they''d been dressing for the weather around here. Mark, by all rights, should be frozen. His eyes opened, and he sat up, as if he''d sensed he was being watched.Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. "What?" he asked. "You''re leaving?" she checked, still staring at him, unable to help it. She felt cold just looking at him. "After all the fuss you made, you''re going already?" He reached up and rubbed his temple. "Why does it bother you?" She was floored. For a minute she didn''t know what to think. She didn''t know the answer. She couldn''t even remember what she''d wanted to talk to him about, just that she''d wanted the chance to talk to him one more time. To talk to the boy Sylvia had liked. Celebrity or not. She''d wanted to get the measure of him. It was stupid. There was no sense of catharsis to be reached here. "Do you even know what''s happened?" she asked, unable to help herself. Surely, he must''ve worked out that he was at Al''s house. Must''ve understood that something was wrong in the way they were all acting, but would anyone have mentioned Sylvia? Would he have cared? Mark grunted. "The girl in the photographs," he started, standing up and bending over to grab his racket as Tich''s heart sank. "Sylvia. They told me. She was your friend?" "My very best," she whispered. She had to look up at him when he straightened up. She clutched her bag more tightly, twisting the strap in her hands. "Can''t you stay?" "How would that help?" he asked, watching her fixedly. "I can''t make him move past this. We''re not that close." "I don''t want him to move past this." She frowned and played with the brim of her hat. "Sorry. I just irrationally thought you could help somehow. I shouldn''t have asked." "What does that mean?" She stared wide-eyed at his accusatory tone. "You want him to grieve forever? Did you want company, was that it?" "No!" she said with a sharp gasp. "No, hang on." She closed her eyes. She was bad with words. She knew that, and she usually panicked when she couldn''t express herself, which often made everything worse. She was trying to make a conscious effort to say what she really thought this time. "I meant, I don''t want her to be forgotten. Of course, I don''t want everyone to grieve forever. I don''t want them to be sad for the rest of their lives, but I don''t think they should be so blas¨¦ about it either. Sylvia''s gone. It''s a big deal, and I guess I''m annoyed that Marilyn''s like that. I know it''s her way of coping, but for me, it''s impossible. How can she pretend that nothing''s wrong all the time? Sylvia was such a huge part of my life that I can''t ignore that she''s missing. I realise I sound stupid. I don''t know what made me come here." She covered her eyes, pulling the hat brim low, temporarily disfiguring her upside-down smile as her bag almost hit her in the face. She instantly regretted what she''d said about Marilyn. Marilyn was a great friend. But she''d been sitting on the thought for a while, trying to keep it in, and her self-control had broken. "Maybe I''m jealous that everyone else can move on," she admitted, slowly lower her hands again. She stared at the ground, unable to look at him. "And I know I can''t do that yet." She stopped. She was having the wrong conversation. Or rather, she was having it with the wrong person. What she was actually afraid of, or rather, what she actually needed was for Al to stay with her. He was the one person who''d loved Sylvia as unconditionally as she had. The one person who seemed to be struggling as much as she was. Apart from Mrs and Dr Holmes, but as much as Tich liked them, she couldn''t really bond with them in quite the same way. She was selfish. "Okay," Mark said suddenly, breaking her concentration. His expression was neutral when she looked up at him. "I''ll stay." Tich frowned, suddenly unsure if that was what she''d really wanted to achieve. Al and his teammates were probably going to be angry with her. Maybe she''d inadvertently made everything a lot worse. But if Mark stayed, if he didn''t report back to their coach, she got the feeling Al would have more time here.
"What are you thinking?" Victor asked, flicking through the channels trying to find something he liked. Al closed his eyes. "I have no idea." Victor turned to stare at him, momentarily distracted from his pursuit. "Mark''s right though, the tournament is coming up. What if she asks you to stay? What if either of them does? You can''t just say no, can you?" Al didn''t say anything. His eyes flicked open and stayed glued to the TV, now rerunning Scrubs for the billionth time. His jaw had tightened up, which should have been the signal for Victor to stop, but whilst Victor noticed the warning signs, he chose to ignore them. "You need to seriously think about where your priorities are. Jim''ll throw a tantrum if you ditch us out of the blue five days before the preliminaries. Can''t say Tony and I would be all that pleased either." Al''s expression grew grim. His lips thinned out and his eyes narrowed. He tried his best to keep his temper in check. "Besides, are you sure you''re back on form? You weren''t just trying to kill Mark for messing with Tich or anything? Because that situation''s not likely to repeat itself if you get what I''m-" "It had nothing to do with Tich. That''s not my old racket. When I said it was sentimental, I meant it was Sylvia''s." Victor''s expression shifted into neutral. "Of course I wanted to kill him." He called Mark a succession of very rude words. "I can''t believe he just showed up here spouting all that dedication rubbish. He''s not the only one taking this seriously. As if we really came here to hit on girls." "Well, I don''t know about you," Victor said with a smirk, intentionally being crude to break the tension. Al snorted. "If you touch Tich, I''ll break you." Victor pretended to look wounded, but Al''s expression was half-serious, so he rolled his eyes and changed track. Al was resistant to certain kinds of jokes. "Camilla and Marilyn are hot," he said, testing the waters. Al deliberately ignored the jibe. "So you''re not into voluptuous women?" he checked. "Some people would tell you that''s shallow." Victor laughed. "Mate, it''s not how she looks, it''s her personality that''s the problem. I thought there was some unwritten rule somewhere about inner beauty. Helen''s vicious. She just attacks us for no reason." "Harsh," Al said, but he couldn''t help agreeing. There must be something nice about Helen, for her to be friends with Sylvia and Tich, but if there was, she didn''t like to show it. Maybe she just hated them? If so, in a way, Al didn''t really blame her. From her point of view, her friend had just died and they showed up and distracted everyone away from that. But it''s not like she''d ever given them a chance. She''d decided right from the start to treat them like idiots. "Seriously," Victor said, leaning forward. "Are you really telling me you aren''t in to any of your sister''s friends?" Al half smiled when Victor referred to them as Sylvia''s friends. Victor was usually a dick, but he was surprisingly adept at remembering all the really important little things. Regardless, Al wasn''t ready to get into that particular debate. Sure, he liked Tich. He liked hanging out with her. She was totally chilled, and that was rare for him. The girls he met were either fans, who could be a little intense, or very focused on their own tennis careers. Then there was Marilyn, who was totally stunning, but if she was chilled it was only because barely any thoughts seemed to pass through her head. She was very pleasant, and in a world where she was just a random girl, he''d be interested. Like half a dozen other guys he''d be stringing along on a leash. It didn''t seem like she was very emotionally invested. To be honest, that was kind of a turn off for him. Camilla was pretty interesting. She was passionate, she acted out, and she always knew what to say. He couldn''t exactly read if she was leading him on, or if she genuinely liked him, but he thought she was attractive, even if it wasn''t in the most conventional way. But he wasn''t particularly in the mood to chase anyone right now, and with Sylvia gone, the idea of settling down with one of her friends seemed distasteful. He kept thinking he should''ve come home sooner. The thought made him sick, because it wasn''t just Sylvia he thought he''d missed out on. "Victor, don''t go there," he muttered, stealing the remote out of his teammates hands. He flicked through the TV channels. South Park was on. That was a win. He settled back into the sofa and Victor sighed. "Alright, but if I hit on one of them, I don''t want you getting crazy mad at me." Al closed his eyes temporarily, to let the rage boil down. "They''re grieving," he reminded him. Shaking his head. "That''s how some people grieve!" Victor said defensively. "Come on, what do you take me for? I''m not looking to take advantage of anyone. But some people, when something like this happens, like to do reckless things in order to feel a bit more alive... you know?" "You''re disgusting," Al muttered. But he knew Victor''s intentions weren''t necessarily terrible. It just jarred with Al''s own feelings on the matter. That didn''t de facto mean he was wrong. "Go for Marilyn," he said at last. "She''s more your type." Victor very carefully didn''t let the smug grin show on his face. Al may have meant it to be an insult, but they both knew it was a reverse admission. 5. The Passage of Time

| 5 |

THE PASSAGE OF TIME

"Happy Birthday!!!" Camilla cooed down the phone line. Tich creased her brow in pain as the weekend lie-in she''d been so abruptly woken from fought back. Only Camilla could say words with such excitement that you could hear the excessive punctuation slotting right into place. "I''ve got the best surprise for you," she said avidly. Tich wriggled up against the pillows until she was more upright than horizontal. Camilla''s surprises could be a little over the top if you didn''t mentally prepare for them. "Davy Croakley is having a house party this weekend and we''re going!" "Do I get a choice in this?" She didn''t feel particularly strongly about it one way or another, but she was interested to know Camilla''s response. "Nope!" Tich could hear her grinning down the phone. She yawned. She really wanted to get back to bed. "Night then." She went to hang up the phone, but Camilla''s voice brought her back. "Yeah, and!" Camilla interjected quickly. Clearly there was more to share. "Mark''s still here. Something about someone persuading him to stay...?" She paused expectantly. Tich could hear her anticipation. Tich looked off to the side. "Really?" she asked, feigning boredom. "So, the guys want an excuse to get out of the house?" She pursed her lips, and fiddled with the corner of the bed sheets. She wondered how Camilla even knew about this. "Does that mean we''re babysitting Jim too?" "Don''t be silly!" Camilla laughed. "So what if he''s fifteen - who cares? The guys can look after each other. That''s not our job. We''re just going to have a good time. Whoop whoop!" That was Camilla. Totally responsible, but only for the people she cared about. Never mind that people would recognise Jim. Tich also thought that Camilla was the only person she knew who would actually shout whoop whoop. "Annnnnd, Al says we can crash at his later if need be, but I figured it might be easier to square with your mum if you tell her you''re staying at mine tonight. We can share a taxi." Tich nodded. Then remembered Camilla couldn''t see her. Tich hesitated. She got swept along by Camilla so easily. "Tich?" Camilla checked. "You know, I''m respecting your wishes by not throwing you a birthday party...and I know you probably have a lot of mixed feelings about this. About celebrating. But if it''s okay, I think it would be good to give yourself a break. Just an evening, when you don''t think about how shit everything is. And I love you. We all do. You know that, right?" "Yeah." Tich''s voice broke. The sudden wave of grief and sadness crashing over her. She''d completely lost her composure. She was glad Camilla couldn''t see her. Although her voice would clearly show the strain. She swallowed, and really tried to get herself under control. "Yeah. Sounds good." She didn''t even know if it did sound good. Or how she felt about that. She just wanted the conversation to end. "Oh, honey. I love you so much. I can''t wait to see you and give you a big hug. I''ll come pick you up later. Let''s say six thirty? Else you know your mum''ll get suspicious!" she sang and promptly hung up. Camilla was the only person Tich knew who never said goodbye.
You could tell which house was the destination of choice for the kids their age by the crowds. Whole swathes of people fought their way towards the house with loud music blasting out of the door every time it was opened, which was pretty much constantly. Al and the others got a lot of attention as they entered. Davy, whose house it was, drunkenly sauntered up to greet them, looking thrilled enough to wet himself. As if they''d come there for him. Tich shook her head and shared a look with Al who rolled his eyes. He got this treatment all the time. They made a beeline for Helen and Marilyn who were lingering by the drinks table, each clasping disposable cups. "I think I saw Bethany making out with a girl," was Helen''s first report of the evening. She didn''t even stop to say hello. "Hello, where was this," Victor stepped in, throwing an arm around the two girl''s shoulders, making up for Helen''s rudeness with a crudeness to match. Marilyn giggled but Helen wriggled out of his grasp, leaving Victor grinning down at Marilyn. She didn''t even blush. She knew what she was doing. Camilla shoved a drink into Tich''s hand. "No more analysing," she demanded. "Yes," Tich mused. "Instead I''ll let my liver break down. Fantastic." But she drank the drink anyway. She liked alcohol. She''d only said it to be funny, and was gratified when the guys laughed. "Where can I get me one of those," Jim butted in. Camilla rolled her eyes, as Victor handed the fifteen year old a bottle. She was about to ask the others what they wanted, but realised with some surprise that the other three had already supplied themselves with drinks in record time. Mark took one look around them and grimaced as he poured himself a coke. Mark didn''t drink. It was a pity, because in Tich''s opinion, he could have done with one. Al caught her eye. "Let''s go dance," he said, and dragged her away.
The girls at the party seemed to be going steadily mental with Al and his friends in their midst. In fact, Mark and Tony''s presence seemed to have kicked the hysteria up to a whole new level. Tich pulled a face when she spotted Victor deeply in mid-flirt with Paige, who seemed a lot less shy under the influence of alcohol. As she watched Victor leant in and the two started heavily making out in front of everyone. Not that other couples weren''t doing the same. Marilyn was a couple of metres away from the pair, batting her eyelashes at some rugby stud from another school. Knowing her, she''d be in mirroring them in five minutes. Camilla laughed and leant in to whisper to Tich as they surveyed everyone from their sofa. An island in the sea of the ridiculous. "I think," she confessed. "That he''s trying to make Marilyn jealous." Tich looked at Marilyn''s oblivious face and snorted a sip of her most recent mixer. Victor and Marilyn? Where did that come from? "I think," she confessed, spinning the same weight into her words as Camilla had to hers. "You''re talking out of your arse, my dear. How much have you had to drink?" She reached over to confiscate Camilla''s punch as Camilla giggled and pushed her away. "No, no!" She shrieked with laughter. "You''re only saying that because you can''t deal with subtleties. For example, you''d never guess that I like Al." Tich''s mouth dropped open. "What?" she guffawed, getting to her knees in order to reach better. "Milly, stop-" "No, I''m serious!" Camilla whined, putting her drink down on the table behind her, since Tich was in danger of climbing on top of her. "I like him, and I think he likes me too." The laughter faded from Tich''s face. As soon as she realised Camilla wasn''t joking, it started to really bother her. "Really?" she whispered, sinking back onto her heels. "Oh," Camilla said, her own good humour sinking in tandem with Tich''s. "Oh, don''t look like that. I''m sorry. I won''t get in the way. You know I love you. Nobody will ruin that." Tich was hit by a strong sense of nostalgia. A wanting. Another wanting for Sylvia. Their love had been boundlessly unconditional. For no reason other than they were best friends. Where as, as lovely as Camilla was, Tich knew her friend was simply trying not to step on her toes. It wasn''t that Camilla didn''t love her. It wasn''t even that she didn''t love Camilla. It was just that Camilla wasn''t Sylvia, and so, even though the conversation was the same, the outcome would be different. "You still like him?" Camilla said, testing the waters. She''d never been able to deal with an awkward silence. Especially not whilst drunk. Tich stared at her, searching. Her friend was so beautiful. So confident. So unique. But she would fall on her sword for other people at the drop of a hat. It would be so easy to tell her to stop. But how could she do that? When she was confused about her own feelings. When the very idea of still having feelings felt like some kind of a betrayal. "How could I?" she asked, sadly. The alcohol loosening her tongue. "When I loved her so much." But she had liked Al. She really had. A huge amount. She didn''t want Camilla to like him. Or really, she didn''t want Al to like her. Camilla''s expression was very sad. She hugged Tich, jogging Tich''s glass so that small splashes speckled the sofa. "We all loved her," she whispered. "Please, I know you two were best friends. But I loved her too. Don''t forget that. Don''t think you''re alone in feeling the absence in the room." The absence in the room. Sometimes Tich felt it so strongly it was as if she could still hear Sylvia''s voice. Her laughter. Her sarcastic comments. Her annoyance. It wasn''t fair. Tich closed her eyes. Of course, she knew she wasn''t the only one suffering. She knew her friends were going through their own grief. And she wasn''t so self-centred as to think her feelings were the only ones that mattered. But her feelings were the only ones she could feel, and she felt them deeply, and what she felt the most was her own inability to cope. That was the problem, lying unspoken in her mind. Her friends would move on eventually. Naturally. They had to. It was the only way to survive. To let time numb that pain. But Tich couldn''t imagine a time that she ever would. Whenever something happened, her first instinct would be to ask Sylvia what she thought. How could there ever a time when that wasn''t the case? Tich couldn''t recognise that version of herself. That would be a stranger. "Tich," Camilla cooed into her ear. "I love you so much. I''m sorry this has happened. I don''t know what to do, to stop you from pushing us all away. And I don''t want to put that on you either. I know you don''t want to talk about it. I know you need time, and space. But I just want you to know that I''m here for you if you ever need me. For anything."If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. Tich couldn''t stop the tears building in her eyes. She pulled away from Camilla and wiped them quickly from her face. Gasping for a breath as her throat tightened painfully on her words. "Sorry," she whispered, brokenly. "I didn''t mean to not say anything. I just can''t right now." Camilla nodded. "I understand." But Tich wasn''t sure that she did.
Jim couldn''t remember where Al had said he was off to as he wiped his mouth, flushed the toilet, and exited the bathroom. He''d just thrown up. But rather than worrying about that, or his missing friend, his first thought was to find another drink. Maybe that would disguise the taste of bile in his throat. He was unsurprised to spot Victor making out with some hussy across the room. What was surprising, a moment later with the change of angle brought by descending the stairs, was that she turned out to be Marilyn. He muttered something about lucky bastards, and a random girl nearby giggled. He threw his best smile in her direction but kept on walking. He really wanted that drink. It was hard being in a room of strangers. It was harder when you felt like you stuck out like a sore thumb. That wasn''t even taking his insecurities over his friends being more popular into account. But it was hardest being here when it felt forced. This was some kind of weird stage in the grieving process he''d never heard about. In fact, he''d thought that drinking was one of the worst things to do in this kind of situation. It was Tony who''d said that for someone like Al, who couldn''t really speak about his feelings, a little lubrication might help. Maybe that was the same for Tich? He''d noticed how quiet she got sometimes. Like every other sentence reminded her of a different life. She didn''t really talk about it. Or fuss in the way he''d expected. She was just... sad. Sad the same way Mrs Holmes was. Drifting about the house like a ghost from time to time. Honestly, it scared Jim a little bit. He''d never really had to deal with grief. He''d been fortunate enough to have never lost someone. Looking over the crowd he spotted Tony talking to Helen. His friend looked like he was in distress, and Jim pitied him. He''d go bail Tony out, but he didn''t want to go anywhere near Helen. She always glared at him, like she was offended he was breathing. Besides, Tony didn''t need to hit on women. He had a girlfriend. Maybe that was why Helen didn''t seem to be as vicious towards him. He''d thought she hated men. But maybe she felt threatened instead? Tich was at the drinks table. She laughed, and swayed back slightly. "I''ve lost Milly," she announced. It was the most animated he''d seen her. She didn''t seem too upset about losing her friend. Jim nodded and focussed on trying to find a bottle opener for his beer. "She likes Al, did you know?" Jim stared at her. Tich took another drink. "Okay. Where''d he get to anyway?" Jim was struggling with the bottle in his hand. Why was it so difficult to open? What he really wanted was a nice cold wall to slide down until the world stopped spinning. "Don''t know," she said. Then she spotted Victor and Marilyn. "Wow." She pointed them out to Jim, who''d seen them earlier and didn''t particularly want to see them again. "Look at them go!" A wave of nausea overtook him. Jim dropped the still unopened beer, and sprinted back to the bathroom. Tich watched him run and wondered what on earth he was doing, then spotted Al and Camilla talking over on the other side of the room. She watched her friend. Happily chatting away, laughing. Tich knew Camilla was a good actress, but you''d never have thought she''d lost anyone. Al was staring at her intently as Camilla told another joke. Tich''s stomach twisted with anger and jealousy. Camilla could keep him entertained so effortlessly. She could support him. What could Tich possibly offer anyone at this time? How could she make anyone else happy, when she knew she was miserable by herself? But what she wouldn''t give, to have switched places with Camilla. For a moment. To be able to lose herself in Al''s eyes. In his arms. In his lips. She recognised how unfair she was being. To herself. To Camilla. To Al. She grabbed her drink and went in search of the only other listless person in the room.
Al had to really focus on Camilla''s face as she tried to talk to him. It was the expression he got during nights out when he was trying to read a text message and had to piece the words together one letter at a time because the whole sentence was too blurry for him. He wondered if Jim was okay. He''d spotted him running past them a minute ago and wondered if he was throwing up again. He''d certainly looked ill. "I think," he interrupted Camilla. "We should go check on Jim." She wrinkled up her face. She didn''t like Jim that much. For some reason, few people did. But Al had always found him to be a loyal friend. Endearing. "Do you like Tich?" Camilla asked, as she followed him through the crowd. "I think she likes you." Al closed his eyes. Why did people insist on putting ideas like that into his head? He didn''t want the added drama. It felt like all anyone wanted was to make out. But a brief moment of passion wasn''t going to make him feel better. Least of all with Tich, who was so obviously in pieces. Maybe that was why is was so much more comfortable to be around her. He didn''t have to pretend to be okay. He didn''t have to be strong. He could just take a moment to be quiet, and forget everything. "That''s nice," he muttered, trying to work out what the appropriate thing to say would be. Girls always played mind games, but for the most part, they didn''t make sense. Like they investigated other people''s dramas over their own. For all he knew, Tich could have told Camilla to tell him that. But he found it more likely that Camilla was saying it on her own. He closed his eyes again briefly. The alcohol was making it hard to think. They were distracted on rounding the corner because they found Jim standing over a fresh puddle of sick on the floor. Some girl was having hysterics over her shoe, which had been caught in the blast. Al pushed her away and focused on looking after his friend. Camilla joined them, suddenly all concern. "Are you okay?" He liked the way she did that though. She could really look after people. Mother them. It would be easy to let her take care of him. That was what she wanted. But letting go like that, letting someone else take the burden - it didn''t sit right with him. Tich was the same. She carried the whole weight of the world on her shoulders with hardly a complaint.
Mark Laton looked like he wanted to kill himself. Girls kept crowding him, and he leant expansively against the armrest of a sofa, trying to take up as much room as possible so that he gained a little extra space. He brightened up a little bit as he saw Tich, and even went so far as to move up to make room for her. She carelessly collapsed into the space beside him, raising her glass so it wouldn''t collide into anything as she sat. He misunderstood the gesture and clinked his coke against her glass of punch. Some of the girls slinked away, muttering under their breaths. There were plenty of attractive enough people in the room. With the presence of alcohol, those who weren''t attractive enough soon would be. "I''d ask if you wanted to dance," Tich said, merely making conversation because she''d never actually try to dance with him. "But I think you''d step on my feet." "I would," Mark said. "Deliberately." She couldn''t help a grin. Mark had a way with words that she envied. A simple comeback like that expressed that he hated the implication of being asked to dance but also that he actually knew how to dance perfectly well. Mark was funny in understated ways. "So you''re not having the time of your life?" He shook his head, an unnecessary response to her sarcastic comment that left her wondering whether he''d gotten the joke. She yawned. "Join the club." "Not much of a birthday celebration," he muttered, referring to her lack of friends. She laughed. It wasn''t exactly like that. She''d done her celebrating. She''d danced with Al and the others for hours, and she''d drunk an awful lot. It was just that it was almost twelve now, and she wanted to go home, even if the party did go on till three. "I''ve had worse," she said. "This one time, Sylvia planned a surprise party. She invited all our friends, booked a venue, all that. But she forgot to check if I was free. I''d had a dentist appointment that morning ¨C one of my baby teeth needed to be removed, my canine was growing at an odd angle, you see. I''d had the anaesthetic, but my lip was swollen up and I was in quite a lot of pain, so a birthday party wasn''t exactly high up on my list of priorities." "You talk about her a lot," he said. She didn''t apologise. She wasn''t sorry for talking about her friend. "When someone''s your best friend, they inevitably end up in most of your stories," she replied with a shrug. "Don''t you find that?" "I don''t have stories," he explained, blankly. She grinned. "Not a single story? What about from your old team? I thought you were close to Ralph Morrison?" Mark was so startled he almost dropped his coke. "What on earth makes you think Ralph''s my best friend?" He sounded so horrified that she laughed. "Well, it''s obviously not Al, and I can''t think that I''ve ever seen you spend quality time with anyone else. Besides, you always seem happy in your matches with him. Even when you lose." He grunted something, and she grinned. She caught sight of Camilla again and was surprised to see her dragging Jim onto the dance floor. She wondered what had happened to make Camilla take Jim under her wing, and looked for Al. She spotted him at the edge of the room, watching them and sipping from his drink. "Why are you sitting here?" Tich blinked. She didn''t bother turning back to Mark, but she was confused. He''d moved up for her after all. If he hadn''t wanted company he could have said so. "What do you mean?" Mark indicated Al with an inclination of his drink, a gesture she managed to catch out of the corner of her eye. "Alan isn''t like Victor. I doubt he''ll shove his tongue down some random girl''s throat, but your friend isn''t ugly, boring or unfamiliar. Why are you spending quality time with me, when your friend''s going to get her way?" She thought about that for a minute. Was it really so passive aggressive? Mark watched her think, and decided to step in. Her slowness was irritating him. "It''s not because of Sylvia is it?" Tich blushed. It told him all he needed to know. "That''s depressing." "What would you know?" she asked. She wasn''t that angry. She didn''t bother to shout. She just wanted to know what made him so pompous. "And I''d hardly call this quality time." "Touche." He smiled, unable to help it. "I lost my grandmother a few years back. It''s different, of course. But I learnt you''re going to feel things regardless of whether they''re here or not. Because there are other people in the world." She frowned at him. He was sharing. He was sober. He was actually treating her like a human being. She wasn''t sure what to do with that. But she also really wasn''t in a place to be hearing what he was saying. She didn''t want to acknowledge any of that. She didn''t want to think about Al, or Camilla, or anyone else''s feelings. Sylvia was the only one that mattered. "Or did you plan to just ignore them?" She realised then that Mark might be the sort of person who enjoyed getting under everyone else''s skin. She opened her mouth to make some cutting remark, although it probably wouldn''t have affected him in the least, and had to suddenly backtrack mentally because he leant over and kissed her. It was brief. Less than a second. Barely a kiss at all, really. Only, it had been her first, and more than that, it had been Mark Laton, and he was Sylvia''s. "See?" She didn''t. "Why did you do that?" she demanded, her misplaced sense of guilt guiding her to her feet. She was outraged. It must have been confusing for him. He was probably used to fans swooning at his feet. But she didn''t recognise that. She was too busy rejecting him as loudly, and vehemently as possible. So there could be no mistake. Not for anyone watching. Not for whatever ghost of Sylvia might remain in the world. Because she''d just kissed Mark Laton, and she could never take that back. "What''s wrong with you? Sylvia liked you. Why would you kiss me?" That remark angered Mark, more than the rejection. It proved that Tich had completely missed the point. But more than that, it was a horrible thing to say. He remembered Sylvia. Vaguely. She''d been a nice enough girl. Not that he''d really spent any time with her when she visited Al with her family. But what was he supposed to do with that knowledge. That a dead girl liked him. It sent a shiver up his spine. If he''d been less angry, he might have responded differently. But he was already on his feet in response to her. Towering over her, because she was so short. "Who cares? How was I supposed to know? And why should that matter? It was just a kiss." "She''s my best friend!" Tich shouted, riled up at the injustice of it all. "She''s not," he shouted back, suddenly glad for the loudness of the party all around them. True, some people were interested and looked over, but only a few heard what he followed up with. "She''s dead!" He regretted the words immediately, and didn''t dare to look and see whether Al was watching. Tich went very white. She turned and fled from the room, and Mark, now incredibly angry because he felt guilty himself, stormed in the other direction and out of the front door.