The Budding Roses

Lichen

Tuesday 8th September

This melancholy, it burdens me; my heart, my mind, my summer. It follows me around, nipping at my heels, and now it sends me to Sixth Form, booming, "Simone, from this day forth you shall go out in to the world and mix with the cool people."

"Ya, that's so cool. Like totally, really cool." How can it be that these people are inhabitants of the same planet as me?

Natasha is in her element, wide eyed at taking in the sights, sounds and Ralph Lauren perfume of so many new faces. Her intrigue in their activities and behaviour at least distracts her from further infuriating me; but there is little time to enjoy this respite, for I'm already submerged in a reservoir of trauma, caused by the start of class.

My immediate hurdle is trying to fathom the biochemistry of the carbohydrate, which is a problem, as until this point I didn't even realise that the word "biochemistry" existed, and so I certainly never considered how and why a carbohydrate might have one. Does anyone know why? Apparently some scientists do, at least that's what they're claiming. They're so smug to think they understand it all; not just the biochemistry bit, but the world, the universe, you name it, everything. It's a whole new language that's turning out to be a lot like French, only worse. But why should I believe them, when it could all just be a fantasy dreamt up by some drongo one evening after too much port and brandy, and idiots that we are, the general public, why we've just taken their word for it.

Oh why after the nightmare of Chemistry class have I voluntarily selected to study the structure of a disaccharide? I really must stop indulging in such self punishing behaviour before it's too late and I cause myself a permanent injury, like deciding to pursue a career as a scientist too!

And by the way, where is Liam when I need him? After all these years of trying miserably to eject him from my life, as soon as his services are required, of course he's nowhere to be found. Maybe it's all part of his grand plan? Maybe during all of the science drenched hours spent in his company, he's been secretly leaking a subliminal message, commanding my mind to prolong the agony of studying science, because he knows that without his tutelage I'll be desperate, willing to forgive him for all of his sins, even for sending me that stupid letter, if only he will be so gracious as to explain away this most ridiculous and useless of problems.

But alas, I'm alone without my willing teacher, and I'm going to have to fend for myself in this brutal world of oxidative phosphorylation and the Krebs Cycle. I can only assume that Mr Krebs was subject to the hallucinogenic influence of a very powerful narcotic at the time of his light bulb moment.

'I just don't get it!' I threw down my pen.

'Well don't ask me,' Natasha smirked, 'you're a fool for picking science. You should have just picked Drama like me.' Really Natasha, should I? Why the idea of standing around pretending to evoke the personality of some inane object, even electrons are preferable to that.

'It's easy,' Harry's booming voice saturated my fragile ear drums.

'What's easy?' Annoyed by his claim to understand something that I didn't, I let my irritation hide my anxiety. I hadn't seen him since my wild escape for freedom, which as far as I can remember was not a reason to make one smile so eagerly.

'"The Kreb's Cycle", silly. Look if we start at the beginning, I'll explain it to you.'

'Since when do you know the first thing about science?'

'I'm a new man Simone. I'm becoming serious this year, studying really hard.' Oh how I laughed. 'No I'm being serious; if I get good grades now then I'm one step closer to achieving the dream.'

'And just what might that be exactly?'

'An easy job with loads of money, of course.' Fool that I am not to have figured this out for myself.

'But I still don't understand what science has got to do with it?'

'Like I say, I'm a new man; I'm an in-te-llec-tu-al.'

How can it be that for the first time in weeks I'm laughing, and at Harry Style's nonsense too? And why has he found the compassion to forgive me so readily; such consideration and empathy only serves to unnerve me. Is he really showing signs of maturity, or is this just another trick?

'I'm sorry Harry,' I coughed, as he prepared himself for his next class.

'That's alright Simone. It was just a party.'

'And what about saying sorry to me?' Natasha just can't help herself.

'What am I sorry to you for?'

'For being a miserable baby and ruining my entire summer of course!'

Wednesday 16th September

I had thought that starting Sixth Form would mean that I would at last be free to explore a world devoid of the idiosyncrasies of Harry Styles, hoping that the depressing climax to our secondary education would act as the catalyst needed to wipe him from my shoe. Yet here we are, a new year, a new environment, but even more Harry.

Like a determined lichen he's clearly very hardy, and seemingly unscathed by my continued and brutal rejections, he's taken to routinely joining Natasha and I at our lunch table, like it's something he's always done. But I'm no fool and will forget that the mask can fall as quick as the wind does change, and the elegance of this academically inclined and charming personality will be replaced by the real annoying monster once more.

At least Liam seems to have finally accepted reality and is busying himself with the company of the beautiful girls from the Grammar School. 'Laura and Lucy are so sophisticated. Doesn't Laura remind you of a young Grace Kelly?' were the words of drivel I heard him telling Louis Tomlinson this morning. Well so much for him being in love with me. If all it has taken is the sweeping sight of some new blonde phillies for him to be off panting with lust, then it's clear that he's just a fickle turd, who thankfully, I didn't waste any time worrying about after he sent me that stupid letter.