Chapter 2
Cautious not to whack my head on my low shelves, I slump down in my blue desk chair and start to open my laptop with random stickers from various fandoms plastered across the back. I stroke the touch-pad thing that controls the mouse's movement and click on the YouTube symbol which is permanently on my desktop. I allow the lousy Wi-Fi to kick in before I type in AmazingPhil in the search bar. No new videos. I check my other subscriptions but not many people have uploaded. Lucky me. I guess that's what I get for being online from 3AM, nobody likes uploading first thing in the morning, well, unless you're Rhett and Link. Maybe I should check on Lion, I haven't spoken to him in two or three days. I open my email and see – nothing but YouTube notifications. Maybe he's busy, or on holiday. People usually go on holiday when it's warm, right?
I sling my galaxy backpack on and start heading down the stairs, shrugging as my mum asks me, 'Have you only just got up?' I give her a quirky smile as I do when I lie, before running to her and hugging her waist. 'Aw, love,' she grins next to my ear before giving me a peck on the cheek. I can't resist mum's hugs, she's just so nice that I have to hug her whenever I see her. I end the embrace and do a mini-jog to the door, catapulting a few things in there as I make my way past the entrance. A notepad and a pen, of course, my phone, some gum, and a bottle of Sprite.
I pop some of the chewing gum into my mouth and roughly bite it as I yell goodbye to my mum. I make my way up the road until I find some mover's vans parked outside Mrs Jenkins, the elderly woman who lived at the end of the road's house, carrying certain things in and removing others. Mrs Jenkins was a humble old woman and she wouldn't dare move – she'd lived there all her life. That must've meant that the poor woman died, oh. She was about 84, granted, but still, what an unexpected time to die. I guess not everyone gets a chance when they live or die... I guess nobody gets a chance when you live or die, I suppose. Well, unless you commit suicide...
I stroll up to one of the carriers, and politely ask, tripping over some invisible obstacle, 'Um, hi. Is somebody new moving in, or has Mrs Jenkins died?'
'No, no, love. Her grandson's moving in with her, she's been diagnosed with cancer recently.'
'Oh, God!' I reply, shocked. I'm not really surprised at all, to be completely honest. The woman smokes like a chimney. 'Is it terminal, or...?'
'I don't know, love. I'm just a mover.'
'Ha, fair enough. Wouldn't want to be looking into everyone's business!'
'I've seen more than one person fired for that kind of thing,' he says, slightly more serious than I expected.
'Well, I have to go, but tell me when they're done if you see me. I'd quite like to see him. He must be pretty old if he's moved? Is it just him coming to live with her?'
'Yeah, just the one. Got an awful lot of stuff, though. Had to go to London and back with all this rubbish!' the man groans in his distinctive northern accent.
'God! He better be nice or give a large tip, or someone won't be happy!' I joke, starting to walk away.
'Yeah, too right!' he plays along, chuckling. He turns to his buddies before grabbing a coffee table and hauling it out of the truck, so I turn to face where I'm going and focus on my destination. Redding's Peak. I was never quite sure why they called it Redding's Peak, as there was no place to be seen for miles called Redding. Either way, that never fazed me to come here and just sit. And stare. And wait for something to happen. But nothing ever did. The sky slowly faded into a black blur after a while, and stars would emerge from the night sky like pimples. That's a nice way to think about it, isn't it? But apart from that, there was next to nothing exciting that happened in these fields, and that's why I like it. No drama, no loud annoying people, no judgement or envy or hurt. Just... peace. Yet it never lasted for long, as when it turns cold, these peaks are the worst places to get hypothermia.
I smooth my hair out as I reach the top of the emerald hill I was climbing and peer over the small-ish cliff that is always directly hanging over a bundle of tall dead grass, that sounds like a nice soft pillow, but trust me. When Imogen wrestled me off that peak, it was like landing on a lot of dead spikes. I can see why they call them 'blades' of grass now, at least.
The sky is a shimmering blue, poofy clouds scattered across the sky, and I realise that the day looks just about perfect. The sun is teasing the valley in front of me by peeking it's rays through the gaps in the clouds, not daring to let the field be entranced in a blanket of gold, and the trees are gently blowing backwards and forwards, happy in their state of tranquillity. I'm just happy being isolated, staring at all of this, but the internet is still, and always will be, where I'm at peace the most. I check my phone, unzipping the backpack and emptying the contents onto a rock beside me. I swipe the screen to unlock it and check my emails, though I can't send any since I'm off Wi-Fi. I had one or two notifications from YouTube telling me someone had uploaded, which made me sigh, as I thought in a snappy tone, 'Come on, as soon as I leave the house guys? Have some consideration!' I had an email which I wasn't expecting, though, from Lion. I tap on it, my large clumsy thumb almost clicking something entirely different.
SummerShine29,
Hi! Sorry I've not been able to chat, I've found out that my relative's sick and I have to go see her. Unless she has some great Wi-Fi, I'm not going to be able to chat. She lives northern like I said I used to, but we're probably way to far apart to actually meet, but picture if we were! That'd be so awesome! So, um, here's my phone number, so we can text rather than email. Please don't spam meeeee!
- Lion :)
Huh. So Lion has just given me his phone number. Just like that. At least I can message him without Wi-Fi now. I tap on his phone number and save it to my contacts, naming him Lion :3. Anyone who sees my phone now is going to think it's some sort of crazy nickname for someone now but not many people get to see past the amazing AmazingPhil wallpaper I have, so I don't think anyone'll question it.
I tap out a quick text, not really sure what to say. Emails are so different to texts – texts are like for close friends, right!?
Lion, hi! It's Summer and... yeah, hi! Text me when you read this so I know I have the right number. Byeeee :)
Oh gosh that was painfully awkward. But I hit send anyway, because #IronicYolo and picture the invisible text flying through the air into Lion's phone and it beeping unexpectedly. Quicker than I expected I get a reply, I has read it! And I laugh at how funny he sounds. I think of something breezy to say, but all that channels out of me and into the text is, How dare you!? Now I have to start paying to speak to someone whose name I don't even know!? Unbelievable! :D. And I can picture him laughing, his black hair swooshing over his blue eyes. I only know this because when he asked me to describe myself over the chat site I just said, weird, blue eyes, straight black hair. And to my surprise he said that he had the exact same. Don't worry, I'm not a stalker... Okay, maybe I am in some aspects, like trying to find out what exact house Phil used to live in so I can start snooping round and seeing who lives there now (lucky idiots). I would pay... Um, the amount that the house is worth, plus five pounds, to live there. I think five pounds would be all that I'd have left over, so that's probably why...
I grin to myself as he replies, You idiot. But you're a funny idiot. So I like you.For some reason I blush when he says that, and I don't blush often. I think it's because I rarely get paid compliments, so when the rare occasion occurs, my face turns crimson and I start breathing deeply to try not to look like a tomato. I don't really know how to reply, so I just send him a pic of the view, the blue and the green colliding at the horizon, the sun's golden touch appearing in stripes across the landscape, and tap send, along with aThanks! I like you too :)
Pictures on my phone always take days to send, not literally. But they still take a good few minutes to send, so I spend that time etching out my every thought onto the tinted blue notepad paper I brought, along with the best pen in the world – a 3D fox pen made out of real wood that my mum bought me for my 14th birthday, and I still treasure it today. I start to write down my thought, but not like a diary, no, no, no. I do this in a funny way. I don't draw or write, I sort of do both at once. I drite? Or wraw? Wow, ship names do NOT work for everyday activities. It's almost like a more developed doodle. I think I'll use that term more from now on. Anyway, what I do is that I write all the words that are going through my head, so if I think of an apple, I'll write apple. But unfortunately, the human brain thinks over 80,000 words a minute, so it's kind of hard to catch up. Instead of my usual quirky pieces, full of random thoughts, all I can think of is Phil and Lion. So that's what I write/draw. I sketch 'Phil' and 'Lion' all over the page in silly, formal, and serious fonts. In between any gaps I doodle question marks, some the usual, '?' some extremely detailed so they almost look 3-dimensional. In the corner there's an empty blob, so I do a small cartoon Phil, with a lion sitting on his shoulder. Perfect, I think, before I hear my phone beep with a message.
Is that where you are? Awesome but how do you have any connection??
I reply with a simple,Well, it's pretty close to home, soooo...
Cool, wish I was there, stuck in traffic ;-; also this car stinks :(
Awwwww :( how long are you staying with this relative then?
Quite a while I think, got to move some furniture in with me, been a pain to do :/
That's when I think of Mrs Jenkins.Isn't it ur grandma that ur moving in with?
Um... yeah, why?
Is she called Mabel Jenkins?
Holy crap, yeah, how do u know, u stalker!? 0.o
Um... about that... I sort of live down the road from her...
There's no reply for at least six minutes – he's probably as stunned as I am. Woah. The amazing guy whose name I don't even know is going to be living four doors down from me. That's so crazy I don't know whether to laugh or cry. I would get back to my advanced doodles but this is is way too strange and creepy yet oddly exciting to miss. I send a quick text in the period of time he hasn't replied stating,Hey, if we're gonna be neighbours I should at least know ur name!It was honestly a joke but I'm not sure he took it that way.
Are u at Redding's Peak?he replies in an unclear tone after a good eight minutes, which shocks me a) because he replied and b) because he knows where I am.
Yeah... I guess it's ur turn to be a stalker now :o
Ik! he responds immediately.I can't believe it – I used to go there all the time as a kid!
Really?
Yeah!
Where are u know then? Not to be creepy or anything lol
Lol I'm nearly there, 20 minutes off now, r u at that place with the big tree?
Yea I am! I type excitedly, almost pressing the wrong keys altogether.
I'll meet you there in 30 minutes, don't go anywhere ;) is the dismissive last text I receive before before not replying.
I almost pee myself reading the last text he sends me. I don't reply, because, how can I say no? And although I don't know his name, seeing his face would mean the world! Wow, that was cheesy. But I don't care. And what was with that winky face? Argh! I'm so confused. I don't know what to do! I leg it home, grabbing all the makeup I can find, and spend a good twenty minutes attempting to apply the horrid stuff. I don't use an awful lot of each thing, as I don't want to appear clown-like, but I apply blobs of concealer to all my hazard areas so I don't look like a greasy teenager. I quickly dust some blush over my cheeks, but decide it looks creepy, like I'm a doll from a horror movie, so I wipe it off reluctantly. I. Hate. Makeup. I slowly apply some tinted lip-gloss, as I realise that it looks terrible on me. I just leave my lips natural, as any form of lip... product just makes me look like some form of zombie, clashing with my skin which happens to be the palest in the world. I steadily apply the tiniest bit of mascara that I found in my mum's cupboard, but she wouldn't have used it anyway – it was all crusty and nasty. I don't trust myself for the eyeliner, as that just seems scary, and knowing me I'll poke my eyes out attempting some form of cat-eye look that's 'in' right now and blind myself in the process. What's the point of trends if you're all going to look the same, seriously? I sigh, staring at myself straight in my icy blue eyes. I suppose anything else will just have to do.
I've been stood in front of the mirror for twenty minutes when I realise that he might be at his grandma's house or arriving right now, so I peg it out of the door, slinging my backpack over my shoulder, and run behind the mover's van so nobody can see me. I make it to Redding's Peak in under five minutes, which I'm pleased with, but I have to drink half a bottle of Sprite to keep up with all that energy lost. Let's just say that exercise is not my thing. As I lie under the sun, praying for a cold breeze to flow past my boiling cheeks, I suddenly feel a presence. Am I not alone any more? Is Lion here? I sit up, but don't look around, as I don't want to seem strange, spying for a man who is probably not even here yet. He's five minutes early... And he'd want to see his gran, right? Yeah, she's got cancer, for goodness sake. He'll be with her. Maybe he's not even coming at all. Maybe he forgot... Ah, shut up, Summer. He'll be here as fast as you can say -
'SummerShine29?' a voice that I swear I know disrupts me, and I don't look around, analysing the situation I'm in as I almost always do. As the voice has shocked me immensely, I clench everything that is able to clench, and grit my teeth as I cringe. I don't care if I look constipated - I'm so scared that I don't think about that. What if he actually was a murderer? I was not ready for this, no matter how much my inner inpatient child said, 'Is he here yet?' like a broken Sat-Nav. When he sees that I'm not moving, he taps my shoulder, and I loosen slightly under his touch, sensing that I'm not making him up. But I still can't seem to turn around. Or move at all, really. I allow my jaw to untighten and say softly, 'Yes... Lion?'
'How did you know?' I can hear him say, exasperated. I can hear him smiling.
'I swear I've heard that voice before. That sounds so creepy and stupid but I know.' I take the tiniest, silentest breath ever, like a serial killer was stood behind me with an axe to hack my head off.
'Um.. Maybe you should turn around? I don't know... I don't like talking to someone's back.' he chuckles. At least he's not being all dramatic too. This'd make this momentso much more awkward.
I tighten again. I can't turn now. Oh, Summer, just turn around. Turn... Turn... Turn... I chant inside my head.
Turn... Turn...
The golden rays of sun hitting my face are not helping my blush here, I'm sweating, honestly. ThankgodI didn't wear that awful blush. I would've looked like one of those Japanese girls from their wacky adverts, with the ghost-like skin and their signature make-up. And with this natural blush too? Wow, I could've just thrown some ketchup on my face and it'd have the same effect!
'Wait...' I say, breathy. 'You're...' And I don't need to turn round to know anymore. I know. And although I'm uncertain about most things, I know now. Lion is who I suspected all along...