Author's Note: Not particularly happy with this chapter, but i thought I'd expand the sub plot. Thank you to the reviewers, also. There are about four or five of you that never fail to brighten me up with your constant dedication - honestly, if it wasn't for you I don't think I'd still be writing this story.
Go Your Own Way by Fleetwood Mac
Despite the rather omnipresent realization that now hung in the girls mind, nothing between the two had changed. They continued the habit of their unusual friendship, collecting shells on the somewhat grim beach shore, creating rather unusual and suspicious recipes from scratch and often on dimly lit afternoons retreating to Paul's bedroom to read together.
Plum viewed their time together again and again as if it was a reel of film in her head before she fell into the realms of disconnecting sleep. She stared into the dark for long periods of time, focused on the cloudless rings of phosphene forming in her vision. The thought of him made her dizzy, and in moments he was absent she felt as though she kept spinning, even when the world did not.
They sat inside on a cooling evening, the outside brimming with the darkness of nightfall. The girl's face was inches from a piece of paper, and her hands furiously crossing out lines while her tongue poked out in concentration. The boy watched her, eyes widening animatedly in curious wonder. In front of him sat his own homework, untouched and unthought-of.
The scratching of pen and paper stopped very suddenly and the girl leaned back, eyes narrowed at her work. She seemed to scrutinize it and once satisfied she turned to Paul and spoke. "I think I'll go type up my poem for literature."
"Do you want to use my computer?" He asked somewhat hoping she'd say no. He had not cleared his Internet history recently.
She shook her head dismissively and the boy almost audibly sighed in relief. "No, no that's alright. I'll just use my dad's. You stay here and carry on with your homework, I'll be back in a bit."
Paul thought, slumping back in his chair with a rather disgruntled look at the girl's retreating figure, that there was nothing he would rather do than be with her. He decided to at least take the girl's advice and began to complete the worksheets for history due the next day.
"Paul." Came the girl's suddenly very curious voice from the next room.
The boy jumped up immediately, almost knocking over the table as he scurried through to the study. She sat with her back to him in rather unusually rigid posture. "What – is something wrong. Plum, Plum are you okay?"
"Remember how my dad is – was a writer." She said.
He cocked his head to the side a little, confused as to why the girl was talking about her father rather than herself. He was too anxious to be logical.
"I do." He breathed, eyes glued to the back of her head. "But I don't understand why – I don't get it."
She swiveled around in her chair to look at him now, she had a disheveled look about her that was almost comical. Her eyes were wide and the boy could tell her brain was whirring.
The girl looked a little excited now, she spoke hurriedly. "On his computer – his novel, I found it. He ended up finishing it Paul; he just didn't attempt to get it published. Or more so, he doesn't have time." She stood up fairly quickly and began to pace the length of the room. His eyes traced her.
"This means, this means…" She murmured to herself rather than the boy. "What if it's publishable? What if…"
She stopped very suddenly. "Paul, would you be able to give me a lift?"
"Sure. Anything." He responded automatically, despite his absolute confusion.
With forgotten homework she hurried off to the other room, returning with a USB. The boy raised an eyebrow but said nothing as she hastily busied herself with the computer. He merely watched the girl, to fascinated by her crooked glasses and frizzy hair to pay attention to what she was doing.
The drive was pleasant, but slow. The boy didn't mind, neither did the girl who occasionally stole sideways glances at him. The wind ruffled them as the sky dimmed and the streetlights came on, casting ghostly flickering glows onto the road. Port Angeles was quiet, but the smell of sea salt still drifted through the windows.
"It's just around the corner." She said softly, breaking off her gentle hum to the radio.
They pulled up in front of a reasonably empty looking store, which looked as though it belonged to a printing company.
The boy made a face before speaking. "What's going on, Plum?"
She turned to him with that same excited look plastered to her face. Although the boy was eager to uncover the girl's idea, there was a part of him too preoccupied by how pretty her eyes looked.
"Listen, Paul." She began in a hurry. "My dad has never really been successful at what he does or, did really, but despite this he kept trying. It's what he loved, wasn't it? And before he had a chance to send his most recent novel to a publishing agency, he decided to quit."
"Kind of like you and painting." The boy reminded her quietly.
There was a flicker of longing in the girl's eyes before she recoiled back into her seat, face cast downwards. Her hair fell over her eyes and the boy gently tucked it behind her ears and gave her a determined look.
"You shouldn't give up what you love, Plum."
She looked at him searchingly, reminding herself that painting wasn't the only thing she loved. The thought almost caused a blush to rise, but she held it back and stared at the boy. "I know, but I'm not important right now."
The boy choked back a protest, eyes almost popping out with the effort. He immensely disagreed, but held back his thoughts to let the girl continue.
"My father works in a service station now." She said the sentence, but did not sound ashamed. In fact she looked proud. "He gave up what he loved for his family, and now he's unhappy. I'm not going to let that go on for much longer."
The boy simply nodded, drinking in her words. "Okay, I don't know what you're planning but I'm willing to help."
"We're here, at this printing company, because I want to print several copies of his novel and I want to send them to publishing agencies." She said, although it looked as though she was not looking for his approval. He realized, with a smile, that she was too independent and too determined to worry of anyone's approval but her own.
"I assume that USB contains the novel?" He asked thinking of the small stick enclosed in the palm of the girl's hand.
She nodded. "Correct, I think about twenty copies would be enough. We'll send them to as many publishing agencies as possible, starting off with American agencies. If we have to we'll expand."
He tried not to laugh as they got out of the car, thinking about how incredibly strange it was for someone as unusual as Plum to speak in such a professional, business-like manner. He had always thought of her as childlike, with a disbelieving amount of ignorance and innocence. To see her act like an adult was almost, he thought with a grin, almost sexy.
