#FirstWeek

Tuesday, Oliver Bookstore

I nearly died from tiredness when I reached the bookstore. My Tuesday was beyond awful. Last night, I had talked nonstop with Edward. We had talked about our hobbies, sort of done the 20-questions game. I had been so into the conversation that even when mum had already been home for an hour, I hadn’t washed a single dish. In the end, I got to bed at 1 a.m. which was obviously not good for a bed’s lover like me who had to wake up extremely early to go to school. It always took me more than two hours to get there. So, again, I was late for class. Luckily, somehow Mr. Marion, my History teacher, was in a very good mood this morning and didn’t charge me with any criticisms or detention time. The rest of the morning was about avoiding saying hi to Angie and Brad, avoiding meeting Angie and Brad so I wouldn’t automatically say hi to them, avoiding having lunch at the table near the windows where the Collins Cheerleaders (recently Angie just joined that table) always sat.

“Oh, hi, Amelia, how are you?” Amanda greeted me warmly with a lovely smile. She was the old lady that hired me to take care of her little bookstore every Tuesday and Friday afternoon. To Amanda, Oliver was not a store but more like a safe where she kept all her books that she had collected ever since she was a child. She told me so when I asked to work here. Before I started coming to Oliver as an employee, I had been going through those old green-painted wooden doors, hearing the small bell multiple times. I enjoyed my time at Oliver, a peacefully antiquated place to drop by after a tiresome day.

“I’m good,” I said, trying to form a smile in return.

“You don’t sound so good.” She pursed her thin lips, looking at me worriedly. Her wrinkles were tracing deep on her face. “It’s OK if you want to take a day off,” Amanda offered.

“Nah, I’m fine. Really.” I shook my head softly. I didn’t want to make her even more concerned.

“Okay.” She packed her belongings in her oversize handbag then walked to the door. “See you on Friday, Mia.” The little bell rang melodiously. Amanda’s carroty crinkly hair slowly disappeared as she turned out of the small lane.

Wednesday, Algebra

“Miss Watson,” Mrs. Jules said, her voice firm.

“Yes, Mrs. Jules.” I put my pencil down, laying both my hands on the current page of my notebook.

“Can you tell me the answer to this equation?” I betted she was expecting me to stay silent until she threw me the second question, why I was zoning out in class. However, not today, Mrs. Jules.

“It’s -3 and 5,” I calmly said to her. Though looking dissatisfied, Mrs. Jules couldn’t do anything to warn me about my ignorance in class. She sent me an admonish glare then went on with her lecture.

My hands uncovered the notebook page, revealing a bunch of doodles. I looked at them, feeling weird as I spotted a name written neatly among the boring shapes: Edward. Blood rushed to my cheeks. Did I unconsciously write his name there? Yesterday I didn’t message him. I was stuck in the tube for an hour thanks to some delays. Seemingly, someone was suddenly ill on the other line. Tuesday ended up so tiring that I fell asleep as soon as I collapsed on my lovely bed. So I didn’t even get the chance to touch the laptop last night. Oh, wait, wasn’t today Wednesday? I had ICT (Information and Communications Technology) on Wednesdays. Maybe I could try to log on and catch up with Edward. After all, I had to work at Nando’s later. And I hadn’t literally chatted with anybody around my age for a while. I wondered if twenty was around my age. I thought it was. I mean three more years and I would be twenty. I don’t think I will miss my teenage life so much.

Later on Wednesday, ICT

SUGARSCAPE
HARRY STYLES CELEBRATED HIS BIRTHDAY WITH HIS MATES!

Apparently, someone didn’t know how to close a window in a computer. Seriously, if you want to slack in classes, at least be sneaky about it. I opened a new tab before closing the Sugarscape one. I didn’t believe news on Sugarscape. It was always half-true and half-exaggerated. Logging onto Twitter, my eyes veered to Mr. Knuckleson every now and then. He probably wouldn’t be able to catch me slacking. He was the type of teacher who wanted to get the job done peacefully and go home. He would be more than grateful if the class was quiet so he could get on with his lecture without any hindrances.

@JustMiaN: Hello.

@JustMiaN: How was your day?

Having intertwined my fingers together, I rested my chin on them, waiting for his reply. Instead of staring at the inbox, I decided to go through what had been happening. Scrolling down the tweets list, I perfunctorily read them. What has happened to all of the cool stuff?

1D Updates! (@1DsWWReport): #NEW Harry Styles with his mum on the street today.

I stopped a bit, wondering about the picture. But before I got the chance to even move the mouse to “Expand,” Mr. Knuckleson had cleared his throat with a cough.

“Amelia, can you repeat what I just said?”

I froze, having no idea how to reply him but knowing that silence was never a choice in these kinds of circumstances. “Speak or die.” Brad had taught me that.

“Amelia, can you repeat what I just said?” I said glibly, rubbing my sweaty palms together.

Everyone in the class turned to me, amused. Ugh, great, first was Monday, now is Wednesday, I grumbled inwardly. It felt amazing to be in the spotlight of sarcasm!

“Excuse me?” Mr. Knuckleson frowned his pair of thick eyebrows. I even thought that there was a household of lice that lived there because he scratched his eyebrows a lot, like right now.

“I’m sorry. I have an upset stomach, can I go out?” I held my stomach, actually grimacing at the idea of the lice. The stupid fake stomachache scene was so lame, but this rubbish trick actually worked well with all the teachers in Collinswood.

As soon as both of my legs were out of the class, I could hear a stream of laughter bursting out in there. At least, this time, I wasn’t sent to the detention room, I comforted myself, walking down the hall.

8:05 PM, Bedroom.

I was totally worn out, lying flat on the bed like a crumpled rag. It was crowded today at Nando’s. When I thought I was finally going to get a 5-minute break, new customers again! Normally, after days like these, when everything had gone wrong, I would just give Angie a call and rant about it until we both laughed and changed the subject to Brad. Angie loved talking about her boyfriend while I couldn’t resist mocking him sarcastically in one way or another. I wished I could take the phone and dial her number right now. But the phone was downstairs and Harold was watching football down there. My mobile phone was still broken. Oh, and how could I forget? Angie was having a cold war with me. Maybe I should just go on the Internet and look for a new part-time job, distracting myself from the horrible day. Plus, I needed to get another job in order to fix my mobile phone before mum found out that it had been totally wrecked. Ugh, thinking about having one more job makes me feel like vomiting. Maybe I should reconsider about the third one.

@hesloveturtles: I’m doing fine. Today was busy.

My face was lying on the wooden surface when I saw the message. I raised my heavy body up. It wasn’t only me who had had a hectic day. I wondered if I should type something back to him. He’d probably be very tired like I was right now. But I should say something back to him. He could choose to reply me tomorrow. Yeah.

@JustMiaN: My day was busy as well. It drove me crazy.

@hesloveturtles: Then you should get some sleep.

That was quick.

@JustMiaN: The problem is I can’t sleep right now.

@hesloveturtles: Why? Aren’t you tired?

@JustMiaN: Well, yeah. But I can’t fall asleep. That just sucks.

@hesloveturtles: If you want to, I could keep you company but only for a while. Sorry. Hectic day.

@JustMiaN: I bet you’re tired as well. You don’t really have to stay up with me. Shoo, go get some rest.

@hesloveturtles: It wasn’t really that busy.

@JustMiaN: Oh, what did you do?

@hesloveturtles: Cooking. I haven’t cooked for anyone in a while.

@JustMiaN: Boys’ cooking. No wonder you said a hectic day. You should add chaotic kitchen as well.

@hesloveturtles: Hey, don’t underestimate my cooking skills.

@JustMiaN: Sure. I have stopped putting trust in boys’ cooking since the last time I saw a boy actually cooked something nicely which was a thousand years ago.

@hesloveturtles: You’ve never watched MasterChef?

@JustMiaN: What kind of question is that? Of course, I have.

It was my mum’s favorite show, though she rarely came into the kitchen – it had always been me who did the cooking in our house. I watched it with her whenever I had time. I enjoyed MasterChef, it was breath-taking and eye-catching. Just looking at the ingredients made me drool, let alone the whole dish.

@hesloveturtles: Then don’t you see the judges are all guys? And they cook!

@JustMiaN: They are men not boys!

@hesloveturtles: What’s the big difference?

@JustMiaN: It means I wouldn’t trust your cooking unless you are Gordon Ramsay.

@hesloveturtles: How did you know I'm Gordon?!

@JustMiaN: Because I’m Joe Bastianich.

@JustMiaN: Hahahaha.

Thursday, 6:00 AM

“Ow. Ow. Ow.” I had just woken up from sleeping at my table and my neck was goddamn hard. Rubbing my cheek, I could feel the imprinted squares there. Oh, God. Did I sleep on the keyboard?

Note to self: Keyboard is the worst pillow ever.

I tried to turn my head around but I couldn’t. It was stiff and painful. Maybe I should go lay down properly in my bed. But, what was I doing to result in this? My last memory was me saying something about Joe Bastianich to somebody and nothing else. That was probably when I’d lost consciousness. My eyes squinted at the lit up screen in front of me whilst my hand was still rubbing my numb and “squarish” cheek.

@hesloveturtles: Joe? Mia?

@hesloveturtles: Mia? Where did you go? Have you fallen asleep?

@hesloveturtles: I have to go now. Don’t sleep on the table!

@hesloveturtles: Talk to you later.

Still Thursday, 2:45 PM

The train got delayed again today. People should really need to pay more attention to their health. If you’re sick, please take the car/bus/taxi/ambulance/whatever just NOT the tube to go to the hospital or anywhere. I thought the tube station should have a health check booth, really.

“Hey!”

“Ohmygod!” I jumped up from the metal seat to find my co-worker grinning ear-to-ear behind me. “You scared me to death, Celine.” I patted slightly on my left chest, calming my heartbeat.

“Sorry, sorry,” she said, smiling.

Celine was Amanda’s granddaughter. She was a college student, senior year. Celine worked with me at Oliver on the rare occasion that she felt like it. Celine had a laid-back personality that meant she could easily be friends with almost everybody. I wouldn’t say that Celine and I were friends but I definitely was going to enjoy it if we could be. She was always in a happy mood.

“So why are you here?” I asked.

“Oh, just the same as you. Waiting for the tube.” She sat down next to me. I felt like an ugly duck next to her. She was as tall as a model and had the face of an angel. Her hair had a perfectly copper red color. She tied it up high like a pony tail. It made her look sporty which I could never actually look like though I wanted to.

“I thought you had your own car,” I said.

“Yes, I do but it’s under maintenance right now. So I’m going to be riding the tube this week,” she casually informed me, looking me directly in the eyes.

“Guess I’ll be seeing you around a lot.”

“Yeah, I’d love to talk to you more. Granny seems to like you a lot,” she told me excitedly. As always, her lips were smiling, no, even her eyes were smiling radiantly. Can someone lend me sunglasses? “She talks about you all the time.”

“Really?” I really meant what I just asked. I knew that Amanda had enjoyed talking to me very much. But it was kind of a surprise to see her mentioning me with Celine.

“Oh, my tube is here.” She stood up agilely, putting on her hobo bag.

“OK, bye then.” I waved my hand.

Thursday again, 9:00 PM

Mum had left for her dinner with Lisa, letting Harold usurp the TV again. There was my favorite movie tonight. I had been waiting for it since the beginning of the week. But now he had taken over our only TV in the house. I probably should retreat back to my room and finish my Algebra homework. Even though I slacked in that class occasionally, I still did its homework fully in order to not flunk the subject. Though I was sort of an outcast in Collins, I still wanted to have a bright future so I didn’t very much like the idea of me being kicked out of there due to flunking any subjects.

Friday, 9:30 PM

Holy rabies! Holy God’s rabies!

I needed to calm down myself first. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. I had to convince mum, convince her that I could not, would not go on that freaking BLIND date with some freaking stranger who might be a freaking hobo or pervert or serial killer named Stephen. I meant what mother would let her seventeen-year-old only daughter go out on a freaking blind date?!

Saturday, 10:00 AM

I just had the strangest dream ever. My mum was telling me to go out on a blind date with some dude named Stephen. Oh, wait, was that really a dream?

After my daily morning routine, I quickly ran downstairs, wondering what would be for breakfast. I love Saturdays, the only day in the week that I was free from any kind of chores, homework, and part-time jobs. Mum said she wanted me to have an actual weekend at least once a week. So only on Saturdays, she would do my chores leaving me to laze out the whole day on the couch. Plus, Harold had work on Saturdays as well. Therefore, the day was literally the best one in my week.

"Morning, mum," I happily greeted her as I entered the kitchen, which was filled with delicious smells of the food. I glanced over the counter and found two perfect sunny side up eggs. I couldn’t wait to take a bite of them.

"Good morning, Mia." She smiled and turned down the stove. "Have you reconsidered what we talked about yesterday?"

"What do you mean?" I took a carton of milk from the fridge, looking at mum quizzically.

"I’m talking about your meeting with Stephen."

I choked on the milk, and my hand slipped and spilled the whole cup on my shirt. Oh, great. Nothing was like being flabbergasted by your own mum. “I’m going to change my shirt.” I left my seat and hurried upstairs. My favorite shirt smelled like a cow’s boob.

I let out a sigh, murmured to myself. “I have to convince mum to turn down this horrible date.”

Later on Saturday, 3:00 PM

“Mum, we need to talk.” I looked at mum with my most determined face. She was watching some soap opera on TV but quickly turned it off as she saw me.

“Oh, OK.” She nodded and gestured for me to sit down next to her. I hesitantly brought myself down on the couch. Standing made me feel more confident and stronger but sitting, not so much.

“About the blind date…” My voice was calm exactly as planned. I had to show her that there was no emotional attachment to the decision I had made.

“Oh, Stephen said he would bring his friend with him.”

Oh, great, now I have to worry about not just one but two possible serial killers.

“Mum, mum, mum.” I raised my hand, signaling her to stop talking. Mum immediately understood. “I won’t go on that date.”

“Why?” She asked with a mixture o of regret and sadness in her voice.

Mum! Do you seriously want your seventeen-year-old only child to go on a date with two potential serial killers?

“I thought you had always wanted to have a meal at Dans Le Noir.” Mum sighed.
Wait a second. Did she just say, Dans Le Noir?

“What do you mean?” All the arguments, which were well-prepared in my head, were immediately swept away. If you were wondering why, let me tell you. Dans Le Noir is a restaurant which serves meals in pitch darkness. It sounds exciting right? They even have a menu called Surprise. There are more. I collected all the information from Google but I had heard so many other great things about the place from Angela as well. She said it was a truly unbelievably one-of-a-kind experience. From then on, I had been dying to go there and have dinner. But it was way too expensive for me to eat there. So going to Dans Le Noir was still on my bucket list.

“I suggested the place to Stephen and he said he would like to have dinner there as well.” Mum had the look of a proud winner on her face. She was definitely satisfied to see me being successfully lured by her.

Wait! No! I’m not going to be controlled by that tempting dinner in DANS LE NOIR!

“Mum! I-!” I shouted, holding my fist tight.

But it might be my only chance.

“I…” My voice trailed off.

“You?” Mum took up a higher pitch in her tone.

“Iiiii would think about the meeting.” I couldn’t resist Dans Le Noir’s temptation after all.

“Good. You should consider bringing a friend with you as well.”

Oh, right. The second serial killer.

“Angie has a boyfriend, mum,” I informed her.

“Then ask others. Don’t tell me you only have Angie as a friend.”

Well, I didn’t want to worry mum about my social life. She had already gone hectic about the amount of time my part-time jobs took. If she knew that I was a loner at school, I couldn’t imagine what she would do.

“Um, OK, I will… um, ask Celine to come with me.”

Mum was fairly satisfied with my answer. “Celine? Amanda’s granddaughter?”

“Um, y-yeah.” I could sense the reluctance in my voice. Mum smiled warmly before kissing my forehead slightly.

“OK then. Be ready before next Saturday,” she softly told me.

As soon as I was back in my own room, I fell on my bed, and remained lying on my back. My eyes kept staring at the ceiling. I didn’t know whether to be mad or happy about the meeting. But right now, I knew clearly, without doubt, Angie’s birthday was on the same day as my date. Next Saturday.

Notes

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P.S: Any wild guesses for who Stephen is?