Chapter 4: Running away
******************************4pm that day*******************************
Rory got up off the couch and wandered over to her bedroom in a daze. She entered her bedroom and groped around her dressing table searchingly. She picked up her wallet, spare bunch of keys and her new cell phone.
"I might love Tristan, I might love Tristan, I might love Tristan." The words continualy being repeated over and over in her head.
She quickly, yet quietly crept across the kitchen floor and out the open back door. As she stepped outside, she could hear the sound of a neighbour mowing the lawn, 3 women across the road catching up in the latest gossip, a guy next-door hammering away at his fence and the sound of a jackhammer in the distance.
"I need some peace, I need solitude, I need SILENCE!" Rory thought aloud.
On the impulse of the moment, Rory ran down the back stair and across the back lawn.
"Damn this grass. When was the last time it was mown?"
She hopped into the driver's seat of the Jeep and jabbed her key at the ignition.
"Go in you stupid key."
Rory finally managed to get the key in the ignition and get the car started. She carefully and as quietly as possible, backed the car out down the driveway. The car eased off the driveway and onto the road. Rory pressed her foot on the accelorator and sped off down the road, unsure of where she was heading. All she knew was that she wanted to get away from the house and all the questions that may lie in wait with her Mum. Just then her cell phone rang. Rory pulled the car over and answered the call.
"Hello?"
"Hi it's Paris. Is that you Rory?"
"Yeah it's me. What'd you call for?"
"I just wanted to know if there was any chance of getting you over to my house like right now, to get started on the cover story for the Franklin."
"Cover story? The Franklin?" inquired a confused Rory.
"You know, the inter school debating finals story for the school newspaper."
"Oh that's right. Sorry I'm not really on the ball right now."
"So well?"
"Huh?"
"So can you come or not?"
"Um, sure I'll head there right now."
"Ok then. I'll see you in roughly 30 then."
"K. Cya. Bye."
"What am I doing?" Rory questioned herself, "I thought I was going to try and realax for a while, get away from it all. Now here I am driving to Paris's house to work on the Franklin!" Rory mused.
Rory listened to the radio as she made her way through the Merc and BMW lined streets. Somehow she felt a little outa place in her particulary dirty Jeep. She turned round a corner into Paris's street and picked up the scrap of paper on the passangers seat to check for the number of her house.
"Number 51, 53, 55, 55A and 57, here we are."
Rory parked her car next to the curb and got. She walked up to the gates that shut number 57 off from the street. Rory pressed the intercom and waited for the femanine voice.
"Hello. Name please?" the maid asked
"Um, it's one of Paris's school friends."
"Oh, is the name Rory?"
"Yep. That's me."
"I'll just unlock the gates and you can let yourself in. just remember to close them behind you."
"Ok. Thanx very much."
Rory heard the sound off the gates unlock and opened them up, letting herself in. She made her way up the familiar pathway that led up to the stained glass front doors. She took her hand out of her pocket and was about to press the doorbell when the door opened up to reveal Paris waiting there already.
"Hi Rory. Thanx so much for coming. Sorry to make you come out on such short notice, but I really wanted to get started as soon as possible"
"It's alright. I was already in the car anyway."
"Oh good, because I didn't want to cause you too much trouble."
"Well, go wait in my room. I'll be right with you."
Rory sauntered down the broad hall towards the room at the end of the hallway. She opened one of the double doors and sat down at the table that Paris had already set up. Lying on the table were some notes that Paris had already written and some past Franklin's containing stories on previous annual inter school debates.
"I got them out of the library." Paris explained.
"When did you come in?" Rory quieried. She hadn't heard Paris enter the room.
"I only came in a minute ago. So what do you think of what I've done so far?"
"You mean this?" Rory held up the notes she'd seen on the table earlier.
"No. Not them! They're just draft notes I did during that couple of mintues we had free at the end of Chemistry."
"Oh. They look alright to me."
"It's the cover story Rory it has to better thatn just a couple of draft notes that somebody whipped up in like 5 minutes."
"But Paris there's about 6 pages of these draft notes!"
"Like I said before Rory, they have to be better than that!"
"But this is already so good. If you handed this in as an assignment for adv. English, you'd get at least an A++."
"Rory, simple answer. NO!" Paris relied flatly. "I'm detirmined to make this story good. We've gotta do a better story than those ammatuers who write the Lamp."
"The Lamp??"
"It's St Athurs College equivelent of the Franklin."
"But if they're amatuers, then what are you worried about?"
"Their co ordinator is the school's head of English. He's a former writer and journalist, so we all know he writes most of the stoires."
Paris's bedroom door squeaked open.
"Have I missed much?" Tristan queried.
"Oh, just the first half hour of our meeting." Paris retorted, her voice filled with sarcasm.
"Phew, you almost had me worried." Tristan replied with just as much sarcasm.
"Why are you always late Tristan?" Paris complained. "We alow you to join the Franklin on the condition that you co-operate, and then all you do is abuse this right!"
"Give it a rest Paris." Tristan brushed the comment aside.
"No." Paris replied in defiance. "You co-operate or you're off the team."
"What makes you so sure I even want to stay on 'the team'?"
"Do I even look concerned?" Paris's raised an unamused eyebrow at Tristan.
"Fine."
"Turn to page 2 please. We'll start from there. Rory you start by..."
The meeting continued well into the evening, Paris taking charge of everything. By 5pm, they'd managed to write the 1st draft and already had an idea of how they would present the story in the newspaper. By 7:30pm, they'd eaten dinner, writen the 2nd draft and typed what they'd done so far up on the computer.
"Refreshments anybody?" Paris asked.
"I'll have a cup of coffee thanx Paris." Rory replied.
"Um, you got any Coke?" Tristan quieried.
"No. Mum hates the stuff, she thinks it tastes vile."
"Damn. Well in that case I'll just have the same as Mary over here." Tristan smirked and looked towards Rory, who was giving him a dirty, unimpressed look.
Paris left the room and headed for the kitchen.
"So, what's up with my Mary?" Tristan asked Rory.
"None of your buisness." Rory replied coldly.
"You know, those jeans look great on you and all, but I think satin would be..."
"Leave me alone Tristan." Rory demanded, as she slowly returned to the document she was reading. Rory could feel Tristans eyes on her. Why was he watching her? Why wouldn't he just leave her alone?
Tristan couldn't help but enjoy the way she said his name. He went back to staring at her, taking in those lovely blue eyes of hers again.
"Stop staring at me Tristan." Rory warned quietly, adding a more dangerous edge to her comment.
"What? Don't you like people to admire you? I mean with your looks and all you'd think you'd be us-."
"Would you just stop being such a jerk Tristan?" Rory cut in, "I came here to work on the Franklin not to be scrutenised by some idiotic guy who has nothing better to do than annoy some girl he hates."
Rory ran out the door, slamming it hard in her fury.
"Rory!" Tristan called out after her, but Rory wasn't listening.
Tristan finally just ran out after her, leaving a very confused Paris to finish the drinks herself. Why was he running after her, he questioned himself. Why was he even compelled to call out after her? It's not like he cared about her or even liked her. God, what was he doing?? Wasn't he supposed to hate her and she to hate him? I mean she had just called him a jerk, and here he was running after her. Insanity. Maybe that's the answer or maybe he ws just deluded. Who knows?
Tristan could still see Rory up ahead, running towards the front door. Tristan suddenly felt a surge of energy and out right sprinted the last few metres, closing the gap between them. He stretched his arms out, further and further, yet not quite far enough. With one last reach he felt the comforting feel of skin on skin.
Rory tried to shrug Tristan's hands off, but Tristan wasn't willing to give up now. In a desperates bid to release herself from Tristan's grip, she abruptly lunged forward. Tristan lost his footing as Rory lunged forward and fell to the ground with a dull 'THUD'.
"TRISTAN!" Rory screamed, her voice full of worry and genuine fear.
Tristan grabbed at his throbbing ankle, writhing in pain. Visions tormented and beckoned him. He fought and fought the urges, the hands that were engulfing him. Slowly drawing him into the dark, into the sleep, unconsiousness.
Rory grabbed Tristan by the shoulders and shook him, trying to wake him up.
"WAKE UP TRISTAN!!" Rory wailed, tears briming.
"What happened?" Paris exclaimed in disbeleif.
"I'm sorry!" Rory sobbed, "I'm really, really sorry. I swear I am."
"Calm down Rory." Paris soothed. "It's gonna be ok. I just need you to co operate."
"OK." Rory sniffled.
"I need you to call 911 and ask for an ambulance." Paris handed Rory her cell phone. "You stay here, make the call and mind Tristan while I go get Fanchesca..."
A fat chubby woman waddled down the hall.
"I'm here, I'm here already!" Franchesca called out with a strong, thick Italian accent. "I come as soon as I hear the noise! What has happen here?"
Paris suppressed the urge to correst Franchesca's English.
Franchesca peered over Paris's shoulder and saw poor Tristan, pale faced and sickly looking, lying with his head rested on Paris's lap.
"Oh, the poor boy!" Franchesca exclaimed dramaticly. "You call 911, correct?"
"I called just then. They're on their way now." A quiet Rory replied.
"What should we do for him?" Paris questioned, worry evident in her tone. "What can we do to help him?"
"Nothing. We wait till ambulance come." Franchesca replied confidently. "We wait."
I'm going to stop this chapter now because it's getting toooo long for my liking. Once again, please review.
~ME~
******************************4pm that day*******************************
Rory got up off the couch and wandered over to her bedroom in a daze. She entered her bedroom and groped around her dressing table searchingly. She picked up her wallet, spare bunch of keys and her new cell phone.
"I might love Tristan, I might love Tristan, I might love Tristan." The words continualy being repeated over and over in her head.
She quickly, yet quietly crept across the kitchen floor and out the open back door. As she stepped outside, she could hear the sound of a neighbour mowing the lawn, 3 women across the road catching up in the latest gossip, a guy next-door hammering away at his fence and the sound of a jackhammer in the distance.
"I need some peace, I need solitude, I need SILENCE!" Rory thought aloud.
On the impulse of the moment, Rory ran down the back stair and across the back lawn.
"Damn this grass. When was the last time it was mown?"
She hopped into the driver's seat of the Jeep and jabbed her key at the ignition.
"Go in you stupid key."
Rory finally managed to get the key in the ignition and get the car started. She carefully and as quietly as possible, backed the car out down the driveway. The car eased off the driveway and onto the road. Rory pressed her foot on the accelorator and sped off down the road, unsure of where she was heading. All she knew was that she wanted to get away from the house and all the questions that may lie in wait with her Mum. Just then her cell phone rang. Rory pulled the car over and answered the call.
"Hello?"
"Hi it's Paris. Is that you Rory?"
"Yeah it's me. What'd you call for?"
"I just wanted to know if there was any chance of getting you over to my house like right now, to get started on the cover story for the Franklin."
"Cover story? The Franklin?" inquired a confused Rory.
"You know, the inter school debating finals story for the school newspaper."
"Oh that's right. Sorry I'm not really on the ball right now."
"So well?"
"Huh?"
"So can you come or not?"
"Um, sure I'll head there right now."
"Ok then. I'll see you in roughly 30 then."
"K. Cya. Bye."
"What am I doing?" Rory questioned herself, "I thought I was going to try and realax for a while, get away from it all. Now here I am driving to Paris's house to work on the Franklin!" Rory mused.
Rory listened to the radio as she made her way through the Merc and BMW lined streets. Somehow she felt a little outa place in her particulary dirty Jeep. She turned round a corner into Paris's street and picked up the scrap of paper on the passangers seat to check for the number of her house.
"Number 51, 53, 55, 55A and 57, here we are."
Rory parked her car next to the curb and got. She walked up to the gates that shut number 57 off from the street. Rory pressed the intercom and waited for the femanine voice.
"Hello. Name please?" the maid asked
"Um, it's one of Paris's school friends."
"Oh, is the name Rory?"
"Yep. That's me."
"I'll just unlock the gates and you can let yourself in. just remember to close them behind you."
"Ok. Thanx very much."
Rory heard the sound off the gates unlock and opened them up, letting herself in. She made her way up the familiar pathway that led up to the stained glass front doors. She took her hand out of her pocket and was about to press the doorbell when the door opened up to reveal Paris waiting there already.
"Hi Rory. Thanx so much for coming. Sorry to make you come out on such short notice, but I really wanted to get started as soon as possible"
"It's alright. I was already in the car anyway."
"Oh good, because I didn't want to cause you too much trouble."
"Well, go wait in my room. I'll be right with you."
Rory sauntered down the broad hall towards the room at the end of the hallway. She opened one of the double doors and sat down at the table that Paris had already set up. Lying on the table were some notes that Paris had already written and some past Franklin's containing stories on previous annual inter school debates.
"I got them out of the library." Paris explained.
"When did you come in?" Rory quieried. She hadn't heard Paris enter the room.
"I only came in a minute ago. So what do you think of what I've done so far?"
"You mean this?" Rory held up the notes she'd seen on the table earlier.
"No. Not them! They're just draft notes I did during that couple of mintues we had free at the end of Chemistry."
"Oh. They look alright to me."
"It's the cover story Rory it has to better thatn just a couple of draft notes that somebody whipped up in like 5 minutes."
"But Paris there's about 6 pages of these draft notes!"
"Like I said before Rory, they have to be better than that!"
"But this is already so good. If you handed this in as an assignment for adv. English, you'd get at least an A++."
"Rory, simple answer. NO!" Paris relied flatly. "I'm detirmined to make this story good. We've gotta do a better story than those ammatuers who write the Lamp."
"The Lamp??"
"It's St Athurs College equivelent of the Franklin."
"But if they're amatuers, then what are you worried about?"
"Their co ordinator is the school's head of English. He's a former writer and journalist, so we all know he writes most of the stoires."
Paris's bedroom door squeaked open.
"Have I missed much?" Tristan queried.
"Oh, just the first half hour of our meeting." Paris retorted, her voice filled with sarcasm.
"Phew, you almost had me worried." Tristan replied with just as much sarcasm.
"Why are you always late Tristan?" Paris complained. "We alow you to join the Franklin on the condition that you co-operate, and then all you do is abuse this right!"
"Give it a rest Paris." Tristan brushed the comment aside.
"No." Paris replied in defiance. "You co-operate or you're off the team."
"What makes you so sure I even want to stay on 'the team'?"
"Do I even look concerned?" Paris's raised an unamused eyebrow at Tristan.
"Fine."
"Turn to page 2 please. We'll start from there. Rory you start by..."
The meeting continued well into the evening, Paris taking charge of everything. By 5pm, they'd managed to write the 1st draft and already had an idea of how they would present the story in the newspaper. By 7:30pm, they'd eaten dinner, writen the 2nd draft and typed what they'd done so far up on the computer.
"Refreshments anybody?" Paris asked.
"I'll have a cup of coffee thanx Paris." Rory replied.
"Um, you got any Coke?" Tristan quieried.
"No. Mum hates the stuff, she thinks it tastes vile."
"Damn. Well in that case I'll just have the same as Mary over here." Tristan smirked and looked towards Rory, who was giving him a dirty, unimpressed look.
Paris left the room and headed for the kitchen.
"So, what's up with my Mary?" Tristan asked Rory.
"None of your buisness." Rory replied coldly.
"You know, those jeans look great on you and all, but I think satin would be..."
"Leave me alone Tristan." Rory demanded, as she slowly returned to the document she was reading. Rory could feel Tristans eyes on her. Why was he watching her? Why wouldn't he just leave her alone?
Tristan couldn't help but enjoy the way she said his name. He went back to staring at her, taking in those lovely blue eyes of hers again.
"Stop staring at me Tristan." Rory warned quietly, adding a more dangerous edge to her comment.
"What? Don't you like people to admire you? I mean with your looks and all you'd think you'd be us-."
"Would you just stop being such a jerk Tristan?" Rory cut in, "I came here to work on the Franklin not to be scrutenised by some idiotic guy who has nothing better to do than annoy some girl he hates."
Rory ran out the door, slamming it hard in her fury.
"Rory!" Tristan called out after her, but Rory wasn't listening.
Tristan finally just ran out after her, leaving a very confused Paris to finish the drinks herself. Why was he running after her, he questioned himself. Why was he even compelled to call out after her? It's not like he cared about her or even liked her. God, what was he doing?? Wasn't he supposed to hate her and she to hate him? I mean she had just called him a jerk, and here he was running after her. Insanity. Maybe that's the answer or maybe he ws just deluded. Who knows?
Tristan could still see Rory up ahead, running towards the front door. Tristan suddenly felt a surge of energy and out right sprinted the last few metres, closing the gap between them. He stretched his arms out, further and further, yet not quite far enough. With one last reach he felt the comforting feel of skin on skin.
Rory tried to shrug Tristan's hands off, but Tristan wasn't willing to give up now. In a desperates bid to release herself from Tristan's grip, she abruptly lunged forward. Tristan lost his footing as Rory lunged forward and fell to the ground with a dull 'THUD'.
"TRISTAN!" Rory screamed, her voice full of worry and genuine fear.
Tristan grabbed at his throbbing ankle, writhing in pain. Visions tormented and beckoned him. He fought and fought the urges, the hands that were engulfing him. Slowly drawing him into the dark, into the sleep, unconsiousness.
Rory grabbed Tristan by the shoulders and shook him, trying to wake him up.
"WAKE UP TRISTAN!!" Rory wailed, tears briming.
"What happened?" Paris exclaimed in disbeleif.
"I'm sorry!" Rory sobbed, "I'm really, really sorry. I swear I am."
"Calm down Rory." Paris soothed. "It's gonna be ok. I just need you to co operate."
"OK." Rory sniffled.
"I need you to call 911 and ask for an ambulance." Paris handed Rory her cell phone. "You stay here, make the call and mind Tristan while I go get Fanchesca..."
A fat chubby woman waddled down the hall.
"I'm here, I'm here already!" Franchesca called out with a strong, thick Italian accent. "I come as soon as I hear the noise! What has happen here?"
Paris suppressed the urge to correst Franchesca's English.
Franchesca peered over Paris's shoulder and saw poor Tristan, pale faced and sickly looking, lying with his head rested on Paris's lap.
"Oh, the poor boy!" Franchesca exclaimed dramaticly. "You call 911, correct?"
"I called just then. They're on their way now." A quiet Rory replied.
"What should we do for him?" Paris questioned, worry evident in her tone. "What can we do to help him?"
"Nothing. We wait till ambulance come." Franchesca replied confidently. "We wait."
I'm going to stop this chapter now because it's getting toooo long for my liking. Once again, please review.
~ME~
