When Sydney Sherwood was thirteen, she fell in love. She was utterly enamoured with Carter Pearson - the cute, enigmatic, brilliant fourteen year old who lived across the street. But, after only a few months, Carter and his family disappeared, leavi...
К сожалению, это изображение не соответствует нашим правилам. Чтобы продолжить публикацию, пожалуйста, удалите изображение или загрузите другое.
In previous years back home, it was expected that my birthday would be met with cold, wet weather. This year, I realised upon opening my weather app and seeing the week's forecast, it was likely to be on trend. This didn't bother me much; I was more of a cold weather person, far preferring thick woolen sweaters and boots to crop tops and flip flops. If anything, it would make me feel a little more at home as I turned twenty in a country that wasn't my own.
On March 1st, the day before my birthday, I pulled open the curtains to see torrential rain. The sky was a dull, oppressive grey and large puddles had formed on the ground. Even from the warmth of my bedroom, I could feel the chill from outside. Clearly, there was no chance that Spring was coming early here.
Last night, I'd received an email from the professor of today's only class, informing us that it was cancelled. So this morning, I took my time with getting ready. By the time I was fully dressed in sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, I felt content. Happy, even. I decided that I'd take today slowly and allow myself to recharge with the help of a good book and a scented candle - an introvert's birthday treat.
As always, my day started with a cup of coffee. I headed through to the kitchen and turned on the coffee maker. While I waited for it to brew, I pulled out my phone from my pocket and began scrolling idly. My attention was snagged by a photo Kyle had posted an hour ago: he and Carter were stood side by side, both in their football gear, grinning at the camera. The caption below it read training for tomorrow's game followed by a series of emojis.
Just as I was about to type out a message to Carter enquiring about the game, I was interrupted by Maya walking into the room.
"Good morning," I said with a smile, my mood still pleasant.
Skipping the formalities of greetings, as she often did, Maya asked, "Have you heard about the game tomorrow?
"Uh, yeah, I just saw someone's post." I knew Maya didn't follow the football much. "How did you know about it?"
She walked across the kitchen, then stopped beside me and picked up the jug of coffee I'd just prepared. I watched, a little bewildered, as she poured some into her travel cup.
"He told me," she answered casually. "Last night."
My stomach dropped, a feeling that edged on betrayal rising inside me. "What? You speak to him?"
It had been a couple of days since Carter had unexpectedly stayed over, but we hadn't spoken much beyond a couple of texts. Despite the intimacy and honesty of that night, I figured he still needed some space.
Maya didn't even know about the impromptu sleepover, and I couldn't believe that after watching me desperately miss Carter and constantly wonder whether he was okay, she hadn't thought to tell me that she was in contact with him. It was like finding out they were actually friends all over again, only this time our relationship was messier than ever.
