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CHAPTER FIVE

Sawyer

I haven't been able to contact my friends over these past few weeks, they are all currently overseas for the Christmas Holidays and I don't have the money to pay for an international call. Another reason is I don't feel like talking, I don't have anything to talk to them about. They would just tell me how great Europe is and how they wish I was there with them, same here.

I can't be mad, but I am, it's petty I know.

We call ourselves 'The SS IVY' our initials. Samantha, Sawyer, Isla, Victoria and Yvonne. The inseparable five, more like the semipermeable five, where one can be on a different continent and the others forget about her. We're like the famous five, but I'm the dog.

My days go by very slowly with no one to interact with and Jackson off doing all kinds of things with his friends, who knows where, probably at some party.

Christmas lights fill the houses either side of mine, yet our house doesn't have a single Christmas decoration in it. I guess I haven't had the time. It'll be Christmas Eve tomorrow and all of the shops will be shut down for the long weekend. I don't feel in the Christmas spirit either, I doubt putting tinsel on a tree will fix that.

It's not like I have any presents to get anyone or anything, I might just go out and have a look around, window shop, try on a few things, things my friends wouldn't want to do if they were here. They would rather catch the train out of town and into the city about 30 km out west. Me, I'd rather go to the library.

My stomach starts to grumble, only in Biology last year we learnt it is in-fact the intestines that start to grumble, but that doesn't sound as nice.

Maybe I should go and get some groceries. I guess my big Christmas feast will be more like a frozen meal that came from a cardboard packet, to be fair I'm quiet okay with that. Christmas will consist of shitty food, a phone call to Kat and then I'll go to bed. I doubt mum would want to hear from me, it'll only have been three days since I put her in there and the Christmas spirit doesn't apply to those struggling with withdrawal.

I look through the catalogue that comes in the mail before I head out to the shops, see if any stores have any really big sales, just some kids toys and bikes, no one really gives a shit about adults at Christmas time.

I grab my olive green jacket and slip on some Ugg boots (I wear for comfort not fashion excuse me) then jump into my car and throw my catalogues on the passenger seat. Just as pull on the door to shut, a tall figure walks up to my window.

"You going out?" Jackson asks, startling me.

"Uh yeah, just to the shops." I shut the door and talk to him through my rolled down window. I look over, he's coming towards my car, phone in hand and shirtless, not that that last detail is important.

"Oh cool," he says awkwardly.

"You okay?" Something was off. He's normally surrounded by several people, it's not often that it's just him and me talking. Besides yesterday of course.

"Yeah, just some girl trouble," he seems upbeat but doesn't meet my eyes.

"Oh," I look down at the steering wheel. We haven't really had many long conversations and it's weird that I know who he is talking about when he hasn't told me directly, I hear all the drama from Ivy. The school gossip. "Well I hope you have a Merry Christmas Eve."

A wide smile grows on his face, "I'll make sure I see you sometime Christmas, and give you something." I smile back.

"I'll see you then I guess," I start the car blushing, something very hard to stop when Jackson and his abs are showing.

"Remind me."

"I will."

It's already a few hours past lunch and I want to be finished before all the stores close for Christmas Eve. In my handbag I have my wallet, phone and a torch, so I'll see where I'm walking and won't trip like last time.

Driving through town I wonder what Jackson will give me for Christmas, probably, something practical, like a watch or some sunglasses. He's not one to buy something specifically for one person, he'd buy something in bulk and give it to everyone. Of course I'm still grateful, duh, but it's just lacking in... sentiment... emotion.

I've been looking at some books in our small town library, with beautiful spines and covers. Kat used to say to me 'don't judge a book by its cover' I would reply with 'but the best books have vintage spines'. The content of the book is also important, obviously. But the feel of a book in your hand, that's the world I want to travel to.

The town's library is small, but it's enough for me. The only available place to park my car is in front of the mechanics although I am I little conscious that I can't park right near the driveway considering the amount of cars that pass in and out there. Samantha's brother once parked right near there and his side mirror was swiped clear by one of those big old cars.

I carefully cross the road toward the library but notice a piece of paper stuck up on the front door. 'We'll be back on the 27th of December. Happy Holidays' Great. The sign continued on 'If you need to return one of our books back to us, please just place it in the slot or keep your book an extra few days until the 27th. Thank you.'