Playing With My Heartstrings (5 page)

"Well, last week Joel -"

"You mean the Joel Henderson?" I nodded, curtly. "OMG, wow!" Tara's face lit up like lights flooding a city square. "So, did he ask you out or something?"

Like, duh! I sarcastically observed. As if I was in the mood to put up with Tara's wild exclamations and totally Americanized 'OMG!'s this morning. "Yeah, he asked me whether I wanted to go camping with him that weekend -"

"Camping?" Tara snorted with laughter. "You didn't tell him about that time when you -"

"Maybe, maybe not, but it's not relevant with what I've got to say!" I snapped, my tone burning with anger. Alarm flashed on Tara's gentle, eager expression and she looked down at the table, turning away from my glaring red eyes. I instantly felt guilty. "I'm sorry, Tara," I apologized. "So much has happened recently that I can't believe it's all real and I need somebody other than Cassie to talk to about it."

Tara waved her hand, apparently not bothered about my outburst. "Hey, it doesn't matter," she said, her tone more mature and more serious now. This was Tara in her so-called 'agony-aunt' mode - the perfect antidote for my troubles. "Just tell me what happened."

I opened my mouth, letting my tortured heart flow in my pained words and Tara soothed me as eyeliner ran down my cheeks and I uncontrollably sobbed enough tears for the whole of England.

"Have you ever thought of becoming a therapist?" I asked, having just finished blowing my Rudolph-red nose. "In case you didn't know, you're kinda good at it.

Tara giggled, her laughter ringing in the warm atmosphere. "Tons of people have said it to me before, but I don't know whether I'd like to listen to strangers' problems all day." She shrugged. "I'd much prefer to become a baker instead, just like Mum - she taught me how to make chocolate brioche last week and it was the tastiest bread ever!"

I smiled, taking a generous bit out of my lukewarm waffle, savouring its comforting taste. "I still have utterly no idea what I want to do after leaving school - it's a question I usually try to avoid answering whenever my parents ask me."

Tara contemplated, her mind clearly focusing on her task-at-hand. After a few minutes of waiting and my delicious pain au chocolat had long since been consumed, Tara replied, "You're taking the higher English at GCSE, right?"

"Yeah," I responded. Everyone in English knew it, whether they wanted to or not; my teacher, Mr Norris, hadn't stopped bragging about how lucky I was, alongside four other students, to be offered the opportunity to take the higher tier and I'd reluctantly plastered on my best-false smile, pretending to be thrilled at the prospect of enduring more difficult work than almost everybody else. Tara was, to my secret envy, one of them. "And so?"

"And so maybe your teacher believes that you have a ridiculously brilliant gift in English, which could then open a whole new world for you!"

Was Tara speaking in some kind of foreign language or what? I couldn't understand a single word. "What do you mean?" I curiously asked.

"Don't you get it?" I shook my head. "Sadie, it's obvious!" Tara leaped out of her chair, nearly knocking it over, and dramatically outstretched her hands. "You could become a writer, publishing articles in glossy magazines or famous newspapers across the world or turn your hand to journalistic TV presenting - oh my gosh, I might see you on the news!"

An irresistible, hard-to-fight smile burst onto my lips and I attempted to gracefully leap out of my chair like a swift ballerina, but ended up landing straight on my face, neatly smudging my fading lip gloss.

"Or maybe not," Tara muttered under her breath as she forcefully lifted me from the floor, which her mother would unfortunately have to clean fairly soon - crumbs of pastry and tiny splashes of orange juice were splattered all over the cool cream tiles, complimented by a Lulu Guinness-inspired lip mark in the midst of the spectacular mess.

"Besides, I don't fancy seeing myself on TV - Cassie would only send in rude texts about my hair being untidy or a visible Galaxy-chocolate stain on an angel-white dress," I said, whilst Tara nodded in agreement.

"And YouTube would have a field day if you fell off a chair live on air - or perhaps I would!" Tears of laughter rolled down Tara's glowing and lit-up face - she only needed a golden halo to perfect the Angel look for Halloween - whilst I secretly smiled to myself. Of course, famed for being the 'clumsy one' at home (Chelsea-mad Dad always preferred the term 'The Special One' for himself, which was rather beyond me), falling flat on my face on live television wouldn't be a fantasy deemed too unrealistic - though I could think of worse.

Having only turned up at Tara's immaculate, stunning and breath-taking mini mansion (all courtesy to her father's job in the city) a little over an hour ago, it was a wonder that all of my nerves, worry and sick feelings in the pit of my pastry-filled stomach had mysteriously disappeared, as if Tara had cast a magical spell - one that she'd have to give me later - and was replaced with some kind of happiness which I only gained whilst hanging out with my closest friends.

If only Tara attended Applebury High with everybody else and she definitely would've known about my feelings sooner; shortly before she was about to start secondary school, her mother - apparently appalled by Applebury High's test results, which only counted for a small amount of students - dramatically sent her off to a nearby boarding school, though only for daytime. Even four years on, I can still remember how beside I was when red-nosed Tara - clearly having just cried her eyes out - broke the news to me during lunch break and after school finished I raced back home to plead to Mum to allow me to attend Tara's new school, which was obviously beyond our drastically-tight budget.

Eventually, I managed to get over my grief - I really did feel like I was losing a friend - and cheered up to enjoy the last few weeks of my time with Tara together. Even Mum, who was distraught by my being upset and desperate to put a smile back on my sullen lips, unsuccessfully attempted to persuade Tara's mother, who only just launched her baking company, to come around to the idea of Tara attending Applebury High alongside all her childhood friends, but she remained stubborn in her decision and wouldn't hear any more of it.

Once the bittersweet summer holidays came to an abrupt end. Tara and I made a solemn pact to always remain friends, no matter what happened. We didn't care whether we didn't attend the same school or made new friends - we'd stick together, forever. And she would always be the one friend I could rely on, even if my life depended on it.

As I suddenly caught sight of the wooden antique clock on the window ledge, a gasp escaped my wide-open mouth.

"Sadie, what's the matter?" Tara worryingly asked, alarmed by my shocked expression.

I shook my head and remembered to close my mouth - a sign of rude manners at the dinner table, as Mum once remarked. "No, nothing." I quickly took a huge gulp of orange juice, which may have been a little too quick as I then got an uncontrollable case of hiccups a few seconds later.

"Are you sure?" Tara didn't seem too convinced by my weak response.

After holding my breath for a couple of seconds, I replied, "Well, I just hadn't realised about t-the time and...", trailing my sentence into nowhere.

Realisation hit Tara's face and she suddenly understood my hidden meaning. "You didn't leave a note or anything for your parents, did you?" she asked, her tone around fifty decibels lower than before.

I nodded, making a mental note to drink orange juice at 5mph next time. "Usually, writing a note is at the top of my mind for priorities, but I just wasn't thinking straight when I woke up this morning - I guess that I should send them a text."

"Yeah, I think you should."

I picked up my bag sitting in the chair beside me and pulled out my leopard print-covered phone, switching the screen to screen. "Uh-oh," I mumbled, panic beginning to settle in.

"What?" If I carried on like this, kind, but sensitive Tara would end up having a panic attack - just like she did when she went on a school trip to an animal rescue center in Year 3 and collapsed because she couldn't bear to see the poor, depressed pets locked in tiny cages. I'd have to control my expressions better in future.

"It seems as though my mum and dad have been awake for ages, judging by the amount of texts and voicemail on my phone." I bit my lip. Although I truly appreciated my parents' looking out for me, especially over the past few days, it was nearly impossible not to get slightly annoyed by the excessive amounts of messages, all of which said nearly the same thing:

Where are you? Why didn't you leave a note? Have you met Joel? Don't do anything stupid!

And so on; if the situation hadn't been bound to land myself into more trouble, I would've rolled up laughing because all of the messages seemed pretty ironic considering they were the questions that I would've asked had I been in a different position. At this rate, I'd be becoming Mum's clone by the age of 20 - a possibility I didn't want to think about.

Tara rested her head on my shoulder and looked at the screen, her face turning into a massive gawp. She nervously gulped and then breathlessly rushed, "If you tell your parents that you came here, they would tell mine and then I would be grounded for like the whole summer, even though I haven't got anything planned and -"

"Look, I'm not going to land yourself in it, OK?" I firmly assured her. Relief washed over Tara and she sat down, her emerald green eyes staring ahead. I sighed. "The best thing to do before my mum and dad call the police is to text Cassie and say that I'm heading home, which I'll obviously do."

"Hopefully without being seduced by the smell of black coffee at the Rollers Cafe on the way," Tara cheerily muttered.

"Then I'll take a different route," I grunted, and added, "I'll have a talk with my parents once I get home and hopefully everything will go back to normal."

"But will it, though?" Tara wondered. "How can you exactly go back to normal everyday life when there are unsaid words between you and Joel? You need to be able to clear the air with him before you can even think of moving on - wouldn't he be all you think about when you're going out with another guy?"

Whether or not Tara had secretly gained the influential power of mind-reading since I'd last met up with her, Tara somehow broke through my steel barriers and got into the centre of my heart, unleashing my deepest fears which I would have to someday face up to.

Thank God I wasn't the only one who knew.

Fiddling with the phone cover, I whispered, the movement of my lips barely making a sound in the hushed house, "I don't know where to begin,", pity playing on my weaknesses.

Tara nodded, as if she truly knew how I felt. She didn't. No agony aunt could dare to comprehend the meaning of loss and heartbreak without experiencing it themselves, not even my very best friend who sometimes knew more about me than I could possibly imagine.

"Have you sent Joel any texts?" I shook my head. "Good - I was hoping you wouldn't," Tara said, evidently pleased. Well, pleased may have been a word too strong for a friend not getting in touch with a backstabber, but nevertheless relief flooded through Tara and myself, whose lucky stars seemed to be working for once. Getting in touch with Joel had first crossed my mind the day after getting back home, but I smartly decided against it because the thought of what he might have said in response made me feel physically sick. Still, it wouldn't dispel any other feelings - sick ones or not - if I had to speak to Joel sometime soon.

"Perhaps you ought to suggest meeting up with him at that café where he asked you on a date" - nausea nearly suffocated my throat when Tara said 'date' in her usual no-nonsense, matter-of-fact tone - "so nothing upsetting happens in private."

Despite wishing that it would never have to happen, I couldn't resist my agreement with Tara's logical and reasonable idea, which, in time, would make me feel happier and destroy my current state of sadness and loss. Nothing at the moment made the slightest bit of sense to me except Tara's wise advice - a short burst of appreciation flooded through me as I realised I was probably one of the few luckiest girls in town to have a strong and caring friend like Tara - and in certain ways, I was relieved that I would finally be facing up to someone I should've hated, yet was still madly in love with.