Chapter 3… ok, for a while there, my creative juices stopped flowing. But they came back and are on tap now. I got really drunk on them last night and write something that might have been brilliant if it didn't involve about five near-death experiences, a trip to America and a guy called Bradley. I kid you not.

Chapter 3 – About L

LESLIE

I couldn't help giggling at the giant, strawberry covered cream thing that was being carried towards me. Birthdays were fairly big here, and if it was your first in the orphanage they went out of their way to make you feel loved.

While 8-year-olds sang at the tops of their lungs and certain people I would rather not be here sulked in a corner, L grinned at me and so did Near. They looked like they'd been planning something…

That afternoon during lunch, L came up to me.

"Can you come with me for a sec?" he asked.

Intrigued, I followed him into a little classroom. Near was there already, waiting.

"I knew you were up to something!" I accused, hands on hips.

I put my tea down on a table and moved over to Near. I was taller than him.

"And what might you have behind your back?" I asked evilly.

At a look from L, he presented a lumpy present. At once, my eyes filled up.

"Aw, thanks!" I gushed, looking around for something or someone to hug.

Near, sensing this, backed away until he was next to L and put of hugging range. I huggled the present instead.

"It's squishy!" I exclaimed, bemused.

"Just open it," L said, smiling.

I tore open the packaging. A hand-made rug fell out.

It wasn't even.

It wasn't professional.

It was thick and fluffy. It had writing, pictures and random bits of cloth. The stitching was messy, but strong.

L

She just stared at it for ages. And then I realised.

I was an idiot.

She didn't want it.

She hated it.

Emotions welled up inside me. All this while, I'd been shoving my feelings down. Remorse, anger, sadness, glee, mirth and excitement, and hundreds of others. They all came bubbling up. It was like waking up in a new universe. It felt like I was seeing colours and smelling smells differently.

When I'd made that rug, all I could think of was working. Not if she'd like it, or if I was enjoying the process, just about the task at hand and the product. I'd hoped she'd like it, but in my mind I had to get it done first. And well.

"Don't you like it?" Near asked, worried.

He wore his heart on his sleeve more than I had ever done. I wanted to do the same. Not to give away myself, but to let the word see me.

"I – I…" Leslie started, then stopped.

And to my dismay I saw she had burst into tears. She flung herself across the room and at us, enveloping Near and me in a bone crushing hug with her long arms.

"Thankyou," she sobbed. "Thankyou so, so much."

The old me would have stood there, frozen in shock. Even Near looked a bit uncomfortable. But I hugged her back, putting all my feeling into the embrace.

"That's what we're here for," I whispered so that only she could hear.

LESLIE

Later that night I was sitting outside with my blanket, contemplating the stars. As I stared at them, they told me a different story that they had in Australia. A very, very bright star shone overhead. I smiled at it; feeling comforted in a strange was to know that this was the very star that I had bidden goodbye to every year when spring began to show. It was the star that I had told my triumphs to and told my woes to when the season was right. It had heard me complain about the cold, my grandparents and millions of other things.

It was funny to see it in this setting. It was like seeing an old friend at the airport, and finding out that you're going to the same place.

L came out and sat down next to me. For a long time we did nothing but stare at the stars. Finally, I turned to him.

"Who are you, L?" I asked.

We sat in silence for a bit longer.

Then he spoke.

"I don't remember much before the age of seven. I remember not being able to tie up my shoelaces, some jazz music and a big shaggy dog, but that's it.

'From seven onwards, it's a different story. I remember an old man bringing me here. Oh, I was so, so scared. On my first day nobody would talk to me. I found a strawberry in my fruit salad that day. I was the only kid with a strawberry. I love strawberries."
He chuckled. I smiled too. Then his face grew darker.

"A boy came. He's long gone now; he would've been 16 then. He took my strawberry and spat at me. I just cried, and cried, and cried, until I couldn't cry anymore. I felt so weak.

'So I began to shove all my emotion down. I bottled it up inside me. As I saw it, my happiness at that strawberry had made me a target. I didn't want it to happen again. So, I became this, this emotionless… I dunno, thing. But now… I guess that… well, um, I just kinda let go my emotions again, and well… it's nice."

He finished with an embarrassed smile.

I felt privileged to have been let in on such a big part of his life.

"What's your name?" I finally asked him.

He just smiled at me.

"I can't tell you."
"Maybe one day?" I begged.

"Maybe one day," he agreed.

Well, that's Chapter 3! Feels like it's flying past. I know the blanket thing is kitsch, but I couldn't help myself. It seemed like a nice thing to put into the story. And I know that this chapter is a tad pointless, but anyway. I like it. It's cute.

And as always, please, please review! If you've got anything to say, please do.

Thanks!

x TRF