2.3 | Notorious ✓

07 | anxious

0 7

a n x i o u s

The calm before the storm was always silent but heavy. You could feel the stillness in the air, the birds were quiet, wind hushed, leaves unmoving. You could feel every cell, every fibre of your being vibrating with nervous energy, senses heightened, heart thudding with anticipation.

Imagine such an atmosphere, and multiply that by tenfold, multiply that by every second that ticked by. The tension building, brick by brick, layer by layer, until you felt almost engulfed by it. So thick was the atmosphere you felt suffocated. It was difficult to even breathe.

That was me in a nutshell. The weekend had come and gone far too quickly, and in the blink of an eye, it was Sunday, the night before what seemed like Armageddon to me. I found that happiness and bliss was momentary, it was fleeting, and eventually you had to be a meteorite, crashing back down onto the hard, cold ground.

I lay in bed that night, eyes wide open and mind alert, as I ran through all the possibilities that could happen, all the permutations of the consequences that fate had in store for my friends. It did not matter that - in Jason's words - we were no longer friends.

I'd spent the entire weekend trying to press Callum for details of post-Hell Week - no doubt something was bound to happen given what had happened to him on Friday - but to no avail. Callum, as I'd come to realise, was tight-lipped about a lot of things.

"Don't worry about it," he'd said, pulling me to his chest when I expressed my worry to him, "I won't let anything happen to you, I promise."

His words diffused my worries, but only for that few hours I'd spent with him. The wave of fear came crashing back once I left him and was back alone in my room.

It wasn't me I was concerned for, it was Jason and Henry and Dave and all the other boys whom I once used to call friends. I was driving myself half sick with worry for them, and I wondered if they too perhaps lay awake in bed, dreading for the break of dawn to arrive.

Reaching towards my cell that was on the bedside drawer, I scrolled through the contact list for Callum's number. Once I located it, I hesitated for a brief few seconds before pressing 'call'. After three rings, I heard a warm, familiar, husky voice at the other end of the line.

"Scout?" his sounded rather alert, like it was still far from his bedtime for him, despite the fact that it was already a good forty minutes past twelve. "Everything okay?"

"Everything's okay," I returned, my voice small. "I just - I..."

And then the words failed me, like they always did in every dire situation. My voice trailed off, soft and minuscule amid the stillness of the air in my bedroom.

"You're worried about what'll happen in a few hours' time," he finished, calmly. There was no thread of emotion in his tone and I found myself desperately wishing he were right next to me so I could at least see his face and guess what he was thinking.

"I'm terrified," I admitted, "I just wish we could skip past this week, fast-forward, and see what happens in the end."

"But where would be the fun in that?" he returned, his voice unexpectedly teasing and light, and I found myself smiling in response.

"This isn't funny."

"You're smiling, aren't you?"

Yes, yes, I was. Callum had a knack of assuaging my biggest fears, and that was exactly what he proceeded to do that night, with some light teasing and laughter. He listened when my attention became diverted and I told him about how big Molly's stomach was getting, how I was getting along in AP Chemistry, and how I was probably cut out to be a scientist in the future.