Soulmates (20 page)

I met Lizzie the next morning. The weather, in line with its continuing indecisive behaviour, had decided it was winter again, so it was bloody freezing. I wrapped up in my huge parka, a scarf, gloves and hat, and pondered how I’d been sitting outside in a beer garden just two days ago.

Lizzie was hopping from one foot to the other when I met her.

“Dear Baby Jesus, it’s cold,” she said, her breath frosting in the air. “What the hell is going on? Does the weather have PMS or something?”

She was equally dressed for the chill, wearing her long woollen coat with a trilby hat. Lizzie could do hats.

“I don’t know.” I stuffed my hands further into my pockets. “But I wish it would make up its mind. It should either be a proper full-blown Indian Summer, or just get on with it and freeze our arses off constantly until May.”

We walked quickly to stay warm.

“Oh, I forgot,” I said, when we neared college. “Noah’s band has been asked to support Ponyboys at their next gig.”

Lizzie stopped walking. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. He rang and told me last night.”

“That’s incredible news.”

“I know.”

“Did Ponyboys actually find them and ask for them?”

“Yeah, apparently.”

“Have you told the local paper?”

“Yes, Lizzie,” I deadpanned. “That’s the first thing I thought to do.”

We started walking again. It was too cold to stand still.

“It’s a good local news story,” she whined.

“Yeah, I suppose.”

The college gates didn’t have the normal crowd of students dawdling around them as we stomped through. It was too cold.

“Wow. Your boyfriend is going to be famous.”

“Hmm, maybe.”

It made me a little nervous, to be honest. There would be thousands of people at this gig. Thousands of girls looking at Noah, wishing they were me. And probably thinking he could do better. I pushed the thought from my mind.

“You wanna meet for lunch?” Lizzie asked. We were at the corridor where I went to English and she went to Government and Politics.

“I can’t. I’ve got to do some work in the library. Noah is apparently taking me ‘somewhere fun’ tonight so I need to rid myself of coursework guilt first.”

Lizzie raised her eyebrows. “Somewhere fun, eh?”

“Apparently so.”

“That sounds intriguing.”

“Yeah. He’s picking me up from college.”

“Well, tell him to ring the paper.”

“Ha ha. I will.”

“And hopefully I’ll see you briefly at lunch?”

“Hopefully.”

“See ya laters.”

“Bye.”

I walked towards English, wondering what Noah had planned for that evening. Hopefully it was something indoors, considering the cold. I wondered what he’d look like all wrapped up in a scarf, big coat and beanie hat. Something told me he would look very good indeed. I smiled as I pictured it and was so busy mentally-perving that I didn’t see Frank walking towards me. I banged straight into him.

“Bloody hell, Poppy. Walk much?”

Frank was half-smiling at me, and half looking pissed off. He was all dressed for the cold too, wearing a big rugby jumper with a stripy scarf tied in some sort of fashionable bow. He looked okay actually.

“Sorry,” I said, flustered. “My brain was elsewhere.”

“Obviously.” He was walking away from our English classroom.

“Where you off to?”

Frank beckoned for me to follow. “Our class has been moved. The room got flooded. Come on, I’ll show you.”

He took my hand and we started walking. I wasn’t sure why he’d taken my hand, and I stared at our entwined fingers with detached curiosity. Frank saw me looking and let go like I was a cold turkey.

There was an awkward silence.

“So what did you get up to on the surprise day off then?” I stammered, desperate to erode the tension surrounding us.

“Er,” he struggled. “Just chilled with the guys. Played some video games.”

More painful silence.

I knew I needed to break it. Frank and I didn’t do awkward.

“Frank, why did you just hold my hand?”

He burst out laughing. “I have no idea. I didn’t mean to. And then I was like, oops, she’s taken my hand now, I have to just continue with this. But, yeah, that was weird.”

“Very weird.”

“You have sweaty palms by the way.”

I whacked him. “Oi! You’re the one who wanted to hold my hand.” I made a kissy face.

“I don’t know what happened. I must’ve thought you were some different girl. Fitter, and less mad.”

I whacked him again.

“Okay. I deserved that.”

The awkwardness dissipated as we made our way to the temporary classroom. It resembled some sort of makeshift dilapidated shack and no doubt Ms. Gretching wasn’t going to be happy with the move.

Sure enough, she fixed both me and Frank with evil glares the moment we walked in.

“Poppy Lawson,” she said. “Nice to see you’re late as usual.”

“Sorry, miss.” I slunk past her into an available chair. “We didn’t know the room had been changed.”

Frank sat next to me and we listened to her whinge about the room change for a bit.

Eventually she moaned herself out and perked up while talking about World War I and the trenches. She handed out copies of
Birdsong
and told us to start reading.

“I’m just going to head back to the classroom for a bit,” she said. “To check nothing’s ruined. Please behave in my absence.”

I picked up my copy of
Birdsong
and started reading the blurb.

“Jeez Louise,” I said, flicking through the pages. “This doesn’t look like the most uplifting of reads.”

“It’s about the trenches, Poppy. They weren’t exactly fun and games.”

“I know that. I just wish someone would write a book with a happy ending for once.”

Frank started reading the first chapter. “There’s loads of books with happy endings,” he said, eyes down. “What about those chick lit things you always go off on a moral rant about?”

“How would you know unless you’d read one, Frank?”

“Shut up. I just tried reading one of my sister’s once when I couldn’t find my copy of
PHWOAR
magazine.”

“You don’t actually read
PHWOAR
, do you?”

“Every Tuesday.”

“Why are we friends again?”

“We’re friends?”

We read. I was a bit confused about what the first chapter had to do with the war. There was just some bloke called Stephen who’d moved to a strange French house and developed a bit of a crush on the landlord’s wife. I sighed. Forbidden Love. There it was again. Literature was obsessed with it. I continued reading and could tell it was well written, descriptive and all the usual malarkey. But, as with most books we studied in English, none of the hidden meanings became apparent to me until a teacher or study guide pointed them out.

As I skipped onto chapter two, I sighed again.

“What’s up, whinger?” Frank asked, looking up at me.

“The thing is – ” I jabbed at the front cover – “I know this is going to be a good book. There’ll be similes and metaphors and building of tension and multi-dimensional characters, blah blah blah.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“Well, it’s going to be depressing, isn’t it? I’m not in the mood to be depressed. Life is going well. I don’t wanna be brought down by this book.”

The room was pretty quiet, despite the lack of a teaching authority presence. Only the cookie-cutter girls that Frank and I loved to hate weren’t concentrating. They were passing around a copy of
Cosmo
instead. And there was one student, the token beret-wearing, roll-up-smoking individual-type that plagued all colleges, who was deliberately reading the final third of the book to show off how he’d already read it. He was crying silently while simultaneously looking around to check that people were noticing.

“So you said life was going well,” Frank said. “Is this because of your new fella?”

I felt my cheeks go pink. “How do you know about that?”

“People in college are saying you’re going out with the cocky dude from that band.”

I put my book down. “What people?”

Frank shrugged. “Just people people.”

I put my head down on top of my book. “Why does anyone care?”

“I don’t care.”

I laughed. “Then why did you ask?”

“Making polite conversation?”

“Well, even though you don’t care, it’s going pretty well actually.”

Frank raised an eyebrow. “Really?”

I nodded. “Really.”

“Wow. Poppy Lawson, loved up. Who would have thought?”

I giggled and picked up my book.

“Poppy? Seriously? Did you just giggle?”

He was right. My hand flung itself over my mouth in disgust. “Oh my God. I
did
just giggle.”

Frank looked over his shoulders. “I think I’m going to have to move places.”

“It was only the one slip-up!”

“Giggling though, Poppy? Really? Things
must
be going well.”

I fought to suppress another giggle. My skin turned from pink to red.

“So how’s his band going anyway?”

“Pretty good. They’re supporting Ponyboys in two weeks.”

Frank’s attention on the book was immediately deflected. “No way! Really? Even I’ve heard of them.”

“Yep, really.”

“Wow, that’s amazing.”

“I know.”

“So does this make you a groupie then?”

I chucked my copy of
Birdsong
at Frank’s head and he ducked. Unfortunately, the book went flying through the air and hit Ms. Gretching just as she walked back in.

Two hours, a Psychology lesson, and a right telling-off from Ms. Gretching later, I was shut up in the library, desperately trying to get through my workload. I constructed a wall of textbooks around myself to ensure I wasn’t distracted. The thought that I wouldn’t see Noah tonight unless I got my work done really inspired me to get my head down. I raced through my Psychology case studies and made relevant notes. I started storyboarding my next Photography film. We’d been given yet another uninspired title,
Together
, and I was trying to think of what photos to take. In the end, I decided to go for the easy option and take photos of my mates. Then I could harp on about the importance of human beings coming together to socialize or some such nonsense. I knew Ruth would be up for more posing anyway. Done and done. Finally, I read a few more chapters of
Birdsong
, thinking it was probably smart to get Ms. Gretching back on side. It still didn’t have anything to do with the war yet. But the Stephen guy got it on with the wife. It was a pretty saucy sex scene actually and I couldn’t help thinking about Noah and maybe doing it with him. I got all flushed and was therefore quite grateful when my mobile buzzed on silent.

A text from Lizzie.

Alright, geek? Fancy a quick break for lunch? In usual spot.

I realized I’d done more than enough work to warrant seeing Noah, so dismantled my textbook wall, collected my stuff up and made my way to the canteen.

The girls were midway through a game of Cheat when I arrived. Lizzie was obviously losing, judging by the massive number of cards in her hands.

“Howdy, hard-worker-person.” She put down five cards. “Four aces?” she added hopefully.

Ruth just pushed the cards back.

“I’m not stupid,” she said. “Cheat.”

I sat next to Amanda and got out my sandwich. “Who’s winning?”

“Me, of course,” Ruth said.

Amanda nodded hello, before putting down two cards and mumbling, “Two queens.”

“Cheat!” Ruth declared happily, flipping over Amanda’s cards. “Take those cards back.”

“Well, someone’s happy today.” I took a bite of my sandwich and nicked a swig of Amanda’s Coke to wash it down. “You’ve certainly cheered up.”

Lizzie pulled a face. “You haven’t heard Ruth’s news yet, have you, Poppy?” she said, trying to rearrange her huge clutch of cards.

“What news?” I looked at Ruth, who was smiling coyly behind her substantially smaller card collection.

“Me and Will are back on.”

“What? But yesterday you were all set to break up with him.”

“Well, he came round last night and I realized I really do care about him.”

I thought about it.

“Hang on… Did Will tell you about the band’s gig with Ponyboys?”

She wouldn’t meet my eye. “Oh yeah. He did mention something about that.”

She was unbelievable.

“That’s a nice coincidence.”

“What does that mean?”

Fortunately, before I said anything else, Lizzie foresaw the potential argument and intervened.

“Isn’t it great, guys?” she said. “Amanda and I can both use you to get backstage passes. It’s going to be such a laugh, isn’t it?”

Ruth and I were still eyeballing each other. I sighed and let it go.

“Sure. Sounds great.”

Ruth stretched her arms out. “I can’t believe my boyfriend is supporting Ponyboys.”

I swallowed.

“And they’re going to be in the paper…”

I turned to Lizzie. “What?”

She shifted in her seat and looked a bit sheepish. “Well,” she began but Ruth interrupted.

“Isn’t it hysterical?” she said. “We rang the local paper and they’re letting Lizzie interview the band and do a story on it.”