It Never Rains in Colombia (3 page)

             
“It's ok.”

             
“I heard you won the scholarship this year. Everybody’s talking about it. You must be really smart,” Claire carried on enthusiastically.

             
Sophia tipped her head to one side and Harlow, begrudgingly, had to admit that there was something about her face. She was really beautiful. Beyond the guarded eyes, her expression was soft, kind. And when Claire wrinkled her forehead in concern at Harlow's silence then continued to try to make conversation, she couldn't help but like her.

    “
I've never been to a school like this before. It's enormous,” Claire chuckled, “Everyone is so …” she trailed off.

  
              Sophia said, “Yes, the chauffeur-driven ride to school is not exactly what I'm used to either.”

             
“Oh really?” Harlow asked.

             
“Totally. I was home-schooled until last year, so it's been a pretty bizarre experience.”

              “Hey, do you want to come join us?” Claire tilted her head toward the two girls at the table on the other side of the Cafeteria.

             
Harlow smiled and picked up her tray to follow. Crossing the Cafeteria with them, past all the different groups of students, she felt like an Israelite crossing the Red Sea when it parted. It was a momentous occasion; as she walked, all eyes were raised to her and she was surprised by all the attention.

             
“Don't worry about them.” Sophia slowed to match her pace with Harlow's. Confiding in her ear conspiratorially, “it happens to every new person. They're just curious it must be because you're mysterious.”

 
              “I am?” Harlow asked innocently.

  
              “Yes, pretty much everyone here has been together since nursery. And those who haven't, well …” she shrugged as they sat down at the table, “they never really fit in.”

             
“Hey, guys, this is Harlow,” Claire said, introducing her.

  
              The Chinese girl flicked her shoulder-length brown hair back. “Like the town in Essex?”

 
              Harlow felt her face heat up in embarrassment. “No, umm, yes, it's—”

             
“I have an uncle that lives there,” the girl explained, hurriedly cutting her off.

             
“This is Mei,” Sophia said. The girl looked abashed.

  
              “She's a walking Wikipedia,” Claire continued.

  
              “She's a bubble head,” a nasally voice intoned.

             
“Hey,” Mei protested.

             
“I'm Sarah,” the goth girl said, smiling. She had big almond-shaped brown eyes and wild-looking hair that made it seem like she had just woken up and then smeared some black lipstick on her lips.

             
“Hey,” Harlow said, giving them a little wave.
How awkward,
she thought.   

             
“So where are you from?” Sarah asked, blinking her wide brown eyes at Harlow.

              “London,” she answered automatically.

              “Oh,” Sarah said.

              Claire looked at Harlow, “She thought you were royalty.”

 
              “What?” Harlow laughed uncomfortably.

             
“As I was saying,” Sophia continued, “you can usually Google a lot of the students here.”

  
              “Not everyone”, Mei said. “Some people I can't find.”

              “Like who?” Harlow asked.

             
“Here we go,” Claire sighed.

             
Harlow set her tray down.

             “
Some of them are—” Mei continued.

  
              “It's a special school,” Sophia said, cutting her off.

             
“So what do you guys do for fun here?” Harlow asked, to get away from the sharpness of Mei's gaze.

 
              Sarah stared disinterestedly at her nails. They were painted black.

             
Black, what a shocker
, Harlow thought, eyeing the girl's nails. She looked around as she sat down. This was obviously not the cool table. She'd analysed the different groups in the Cafeteria from her corner every lunch since the first day. They sat in tribes. The popular girls and boys were crowded around one table near the window today. Her table appeared to be a hodgepodge of misfits, just like in her last school.

             
After class, Harlow found Sophia waiting at the door.

             
“Hey, how are you getting home?” Sophia asked.

             
“I usually cycle, then take the train to Notting Hill Gate. It's too far to ride all the way. What about you?”

             
“Come on,” Sophia linked arms with her, “I'll give you a lift.”

 
              They left the school's glass doors behind them and cut across the large expanse of grass to get to the gates. Sophia hopped neatly onto the sidewalk. A serious-looking tall bald man in a black suit opened the door for her and she climbed into the blacked-out Jeep. Inside, Harlow rested against the smooth black leather seats, as Sophia pressed down the intercom.

             
“Paul, could you take us to…?” She looked at Harlow expectantly.

              “Chepstow Place, Notting Hill,” she said.

             
Sophia repeated it over the intercom and off they went.

Chapter 3 – The Beginning of a Beautiful Friendship

             
Two months later, having dragged herself out of bed reluctantly that Monday, Harlow kept on blinking at the teacher, struggling to focus on him. French was her favourite subject, but today she half lay across her desk fighting a losing battle against the blanket of weariness. Fortunately, she had placed herself in the middle of the class behind a large boy, whose shadow tricked her into believing that night had fallen. Her elbow was resting soundly on the table. She laid her head in her hand, her eyes drooping, and began walking in a lush green meadow. All around her were flowers; the tall grass reached her knees and she flowed freely through it. She could see the thick trunks of a curtain of trees in the distance marking the beginning of a vast forest. Out of nowhere a loud obnoxious metallic whirring sound began to emanate from the sky. Harlow jerked her head up, fearfully thinking God had come down to get her for some past sin.

             
When she jerked her head up, the wide blue sky disintegrated violently, returning her to her seat in French class.

             
The teacher was gone, the shadow over her head had disappeared, but the whirring noise increased in volume. A hubbub of chatter drew her attention to the windows. The whole class was gathered around the windows with their faces pressed against the glass. She jumped up to see what it was. As she neared the back of the crowd, she jostled her way in. The teacher, Mr. David, ran out of the door. He moved quickly for a large man. The rest of the class ran after him.

  
Harlow remained staring at the sleek black helicopter preparing to land on the large green lawn. She felt someone push past her.

             
“Come on,” Mei called, hooking her arm by the elbow and then pulling her into a run. They ran behind the mass of blue blazers that moved swiftly away from them like a herd of gazelle, the two stragglers lagging behind trying desperately to keep up. She shouted, “What's going on?” The crowd of students and teachers began pouring out into the quad. The green double doors leading to the field stood open in front of her. Light poured into the hall, turning the open doorway into a blazing white square, a portal. She moved through the doors, her hair whipped back behind her, wind and sand flew into her eyes, and she struggled to shield them with her left hand as she moved forward, against the whirlwind, pressing into the crowd. It seemed as though the whole school were there.

             
She jostled her way to the front of the crowd and was simultaneously pushed back by the force of the wind from the helicopter's blades and by other eager students on all sides of her trying to claw their way to the front. She managed to get a glance of the helicopter landing. Her eyes were watering and itchy from the bits of soil that had been thrust into the air. She jockeyed for a good position, not sure whose head she was stuck behind. The girl in front of her blocked her view. Harlow snaked her head from side to side to get a better view but all she could see were the individual blades of grass at her feet bending backwards almost to breaking point from the base of the helicopter to the perimeter of the crowd. Her eardrums were filled with the thunderous noise of the engine coming to a stop. She shouted above the noise.

             
“What's going on?”

  
The girl in front of her mouthed something that Harlow failed to hear. The students started cheering and screaming, and as the girl turned back to face the source of excitement, everything seemed to slow down.

             
The shining black door of the helicopter opened noiselessly. A burly security guard jumped down from the helicopter. The blades began to slow. She couldn't hear her own thoughts over the screaming. She was pushed backwards as the crowd surged forwards to rush at someone who was climbing down from the passenger seat. The crowd parted unevenly as another broad-shouldered behemoth of a man ran forward to clear a path. In that instant, she saw Sophia being ushered down the centre of the crowd. She hid her face in shame. Harlow pushed forwards.

             
“Sophia,” she shouted at the top of her voice. “Sophia,” Harlow jumped up waving. She might as well have been invisible. She pushed her way forward trying to get to the front as Sophia's ponytail bobbed past her. Once she got to the front, she shouted again.

             
“Sophia.”

 
Sophia turned her head to look into the crowd and Harlow was pushed back, by the arms of the burly security guard, into the heart of the melee, lost amidst a sea of faces.
This is ridiculous,
she thought, struggling to push her way out of the crowd and back into the doors of the main building. When she got there, she found the green double doors barred shut and kicked the door in frustration, shouting.

             
“What the hell is going on?”

  
              Walking around the grounds of the school, she realised there was no other way back into the building that didn't require her to cross through the crowded quad.

   
              She climbed the wrought-iron fire escape stairs that led to the roof of the building and was almost at the top when she reached a small roof garden midway up the building. The access door to the third floor was being held ajar by a clay pot of purple tulips. She intertwined her fingers in the iron grate, a few feet away from the open door that led back into the building, and shook it violently, shouting, “
Aaaarggggh
, what the hell is going on?”

             
Harlow rested her head on the cool iron grate.

  
              “Why are you so loud?” a voice asked from above her.

  
              She whipped her head upwards.

  
              “Some of us are trying to relax,” he said.

 
              Harlow craned her neck to an unusual angle. “Who are you?” she asked, looking into his brown eyes.

 
              His forehead creased up and he replied indignantly, “Who are you?”

 
              “Harlow,” she said, feeling foolish as she remembered her outburst.

 
              He adjusted his thick black glasses and scrutinised her. She scrunched up her nose at him, taking his face in. He seemed familiar, though Harlow was convinced they'd never met.

             
“Why are you shouting?” he asked.

 
              She walked up the few steps of the fire escape stairs that led to the next floor, to get a better look at his face.

 
              “Sorry,” she said as she reached the top stair.

 
He sat on the floor reclining against a wall adjacent to the stairs, his curly brown hair resting on part of the iron grate. His legs stretched so far they almost reached the top of the stairs. “Having a bad day?”

   
              Harlow shrugged, she didn't know him and didn't feel like spilling her woes out to a complete stranger.

              “Aren't we all,” he said as mirth lines danced around his lips. “It's all that commotion down there, so annoying. And for what ... some runaway starlet?” He seemed bitter.   

  
              Harlow leaned against the grate towering over him, curiously. “What do you mean?”

  
              “Nothing,” he muttered, “just speculating.”

 
              “Aren't you curious?” She asked.

             
“I have better things to do,” he said, picking up a book that had been placed half open on the concrete and raising it toward her. “No point being trampled over to see someone who doesn't even realise I'm alive,” he said.

             
As she took the book from him, the bookmark slid out.

  
              “
Fidel Castro: My Life
,” she said, reading the title, then handed it back to him disinterestedly. Picking the bookmark up from the floor, it read: “Forget me, for I am a ghost and that love you felt will die just like the rose I gave you.”

  
              “Not your cup of tea?” he asked loftily.

  
              “I've read it,” Harlow said, watching the surprise flit over his face with glee.

   
              “So you are literate. Excellent! Now, if you don't mind,” he said, dismissively opening the book and settling back against the grate to read.

  
              Harlow turned away and was descending the stairs when he said, “I'm Christian, by the way,” his voice softened.

              Harlow looked back at Christian, and for the first time that day, she smiled.

             
“You might as well stay,” he said, putting the book down as if he'd been infused with a new energy. “It will be a while before this all dies down,” he called to her. He stretched his arms out lazily then got up.

  
              She stopped her descent.

  
              “Come, I'll show you,” he climbed up the stairs to the next rooftop holding the book in one hand, looking back briefly to see if she was following. Once they reached the other rooftop, she found another iron grate about ten feet high encircling the entire square expanse. From this vantage point she could see the entire grounds of the School. Christian stood at the grate facing the school gates.  “Do you see what I mean?” He pointed to the crowded streets. The roads were blocked by big white vans. Camera crews were jostling for position at the gates.

             
“There's really no escape for her,” Harlow said. “Even if she goes by helicopter, they'll find her.”

             
Christian turned to look at her. “There's always a way out of every situation. There's a back way out of the school,” he said, “they usually use it for garbage pick up and deliveries, so if you want to get out alive …” he trailed off.

   
              An awkward silence passed between them. 

  
              “You know,” she said thoughtfully, “you look really familiar but,” she paused, trying to think of how to admit that although she'd seen him around school, she thought they'd met before. But she wasn't sure if it was because she liked talking to him and she liked the way his cheeks dimpled when he smiled or if they had actually met before.

 
              “But different?” Christian asked, awkwardly finishing her sentence. “I'll be your waiter today,” he replied.

  
                Harlow looked at Christian oddly, as if he were mad and she'd just realised it.

 
              “The Contessa hotel,” Christian's cheeks reddened with embarrassment.

  
              “That's it,” now she felt silly. “Wow, that's so bizarre. My grandfather loved that place. We used to go there for lunch all the time.”

  
              “I remember,” Christian chuckled trying to cover up his unease at being so close to her and wanting to trace the outline of her lips with his. “What are the chances?”  He gave her an earnest look, his tone uneven.

             
“The food is awesome. Hey, do you get free meals?”

  
              Christian laughed in surprise, his cheeks dimpled, “Yes, one of the many perks of my glamorous life,” he quipped.

             
“You must see a lot of celebrities.”

  
              He nodded. “It is popular with that type, but the hotel is really discreet about who’s made bookings so it doesn't get as crazy as this.”

  
He turned away to stare at the crowd. Then, as suddenly as he had appeared, he made his excuses.

 
              “I'll see you later,” Christian said, and left looking visibly shaken.

 
              That face that she had struggled to remember had now been impressed upon her. She remembered him looking over the balcony at her and how her heart had jumped from fright.

  
              She made her way back down the stairs, turning her back on the adoring crowds, and re-entered the school building through the open door, bumping into someone as she entered the empty hallway.

 
              “Sorry,” she said. Her mind was so full of thoughts that she hardly even glanced at the person.