t h r e e

*

After eating greasy food at a loud, rowdy bar twenty minutes from the motel, where I somehow ended up sitting with the twins and the nail biter – and learnt that Kristin and Klara are recent uni graduates from Switzerland, and the nail-biter is an Irish guy called Brannan – we get back to the motel just after nine.

"Remember, seven a.m. sharp. Right here," Sam says, pointing at the ground, before we split into our pairs. For the first time, I'm alone with Arjun. I thought we'd get to talk at supper, break the ice a bit, but so far we've said about four words to each other.

He holds up his key card. A couple of leather bracelets slip down his forearm, almost the same shade of deep brown as his skin, and I spy the outline of a matching cord around his neck. "Ready for bed?"

"You have no idea," I say with a tired laugh. I'm dead on my feet. It's been a long day, and I am more than ready to just collapse on a bed and fall asleep immediately, and pray I don't snore too loudly. I don't care if he does – it's one thing that has never bothered me, which was lucky considering George snored like a freight train – but I'd hate to think I might stop someone else from sleeping.

As we reach the steps, Arjun says, "I talk in my sleep."

"I snore," I say, not sure what else to say to that. It's like he read my mind.

"So I guess we're even then?" he asks, glancing at me over his shoulder as he leads the way to the second floor. It's only sixteen steps, but it feels like Everest after this morning. Halfway up, I'm convinced I won't make it, but I push through the pain and try not to make it too obvious.

"As long as snoring doesn't bother you," I say, the words and effort when the stairs have stolen my breath.

He waves his hand. "I'm a heavy sleeper," he says, "and I spent half my life sharing a room with my sister. I can sleep through anything." He opens the door to our room and the sight of a bed – a non-bunk bed – is almost overwhelming. It takes a lot for me not to drop my face into the pillow and lose consciousness.

Instead, I sit on the edge and Arjun kicks off his shoes and does the same, and there's a moment's awkward silence before he says, "So, March, right?"

"That's me," I say.

"I kind of zoned out a bit during the intros," he says, scratching the back of his neck, "but my powers of observation tell me you're from ... Scotland, right?"

"Originally, yeah. I moved to England when I was, like, five, though," I say. "The accent stuck."

"I can tell." He lets out a quiet laugh – awkward more than anything else, I think – and I'm hyper aware of my accent, inherited from my dad. This is a surreal situation, suddenly sharing a room with one other person, a total stranger. "I love Scotland," Arjun continues. "Only been a couple of times, though. It's a bit of a trek from Brighton."

Brighton. So that's his accent. I was close. Posh and deep, all soft consonants and long vowels. The kind of accent people are talking about when they claim to love British accents – mostly Americans in my experience, most of whom don't seem to realise that Britain is four countries and, like, four thousand accents. Some of which even I can't understand.

"I've never been," I say when it's been quiet for too long. "To Brighton, I mean." My skin is starting to itch, hot and prickly and nervous. I kind of want to have a shower before I go to sleep, but I also can't face getting up yet. "So, uh, how come you're doing this?"

He shrugs. "I figured it makes sense to get to know the guy I've got to share with for the next fortnight," he says, and then he laughs. "And ... I just realised you probably mean the trip, right?"

"Yeah, kind of," I say, "though it does make sense to get to know you. How old are you? What do you do? Why're you here?"

Arjun stands and answers as he changes into pyjamas. "I'm nineteen; I start uni in September, and I'm here because I wanted to do something fun before I commit the next three years of my life to a degree, considering I already wasted a year having to resit my A-levels just to get into a uni I'm not sure I want to go to."

Ok. A lot to unpack there. I tread carefully and ask, "What're you gonna study?"

"Don't I get to ask any questions?" He raises an eyebrow as he folds his clothes over the chair. "What's your deal?"

It's a bit soon to unleash the last few months on him, so I stick to the basics. "I'm eighteen; I just finished my A-levels – and hoping I won't have to do any resits, though I'll probably need to resit the last seven years if I want decent grades – and I don't know what to do with my life, so ... I'm here."

"Any uni plans?"

"Next year," I say, the words trailing off. It's not something I can face straight after seven years of high school. I need a break from education, which I just find exhausting, and to be honest I'm not even sure I want to do the whole university thing. I just don't know what I'll do otherwise. I think part of my aversion is down to my certainty that I won't get in. I don't get good grades, so what's the point in getting my hopes up about a degree I'll never be able to do?

Arjun eyes me. "Is it a sore subject?"

I lift one shoulder and let it drop. "A bit," I say.

"I feel you." He disappears into the bathroom and runs the tap, and comes out with his toothbrush in his mouth. "I'm still not sure what I want, so might as well saddle myself with fifty grand of debt and a philosophy degree."

"What's the point?" I ask, before I can find a more tactful way of putting the question. Arjun laughs.

"I think that question is the whole point of philosophy," he says, "so I'll get back to you in three to four years."

When he's finished in the bathroom, he stands in front of the mirror and takes out his contact lenses. Watching him touch his eyes makes me squirm. I can't look. When he's done, his lenses in a pot by his bed, he gets under the covers with a sigh. I take my turn in the bathroom.

Brushing my teeth, I stare at myself in the mirror and force a smile. I can picture Mum saying, "Chin up, buttercup," her hand on my shoulder, and I wonder why this time, it all feels so hard. Maybe because this time, neither of my parents know what's going on. Mum, who is usually right in there with advice and words of comfort, is in the dark.

Maybe because the person I usually turn to when life gets me down is the one who put me in this position. The person I trusted and loved is the one who took those feelings and crushed them under his heel, unravelling the most important years of my life. And I have no-one to turn to except my family, who still think he's my best friend, and the stranger lying in the bed next door.

When I return to the room, Arjun's lying on his side, scrolling through his phone. Without meaning to, I copy his position and mindlessly scroll until I accidentally open a message from my little sister.

FLO: i miss you! i know you're sad about the g word but you're way more awesome than him and there are billions of other fish in the sea. dad says you're gonna find yourself on this trip. maybe you'll find someone else too! someone kind please.

Her text makes me smile. It's kind of weird that I can remember the day Flo was born and I remember helping to change her nappies and feed her when I was a kid, and now she's basically a little adult stuck in the body of a twelve-year-old.

I never even told her about George and me. One day she just assumed we were together, more than a year ago, back when I was still figuring things out with him. I told her not to tell anyone – mostly because at the time, I wasn't sure where George and I stood – and she has kept that promise for over a year.

I know it's weird, but sometimes I think Flo might be my best friend. For a long time, that role belonged to George: he was my first friend when we started Year Seven, the one I always turned to if we had to pair up in lessons. I have other friends, of course – I had a toe in every social circle at throughout high school – but no-one like George. I thought we had the kind of friendship that would last a lifetime.

But we fucked it up.

The first time he kissed me, I told him I was scared of ruining our friendship and I didn't care how cliché that line was, and he told me it would be fine. I believed him because I had no reason not to. Because I think a part of me had always wanted to kiss him, had always liked him more than friends usually did. Because he cupped my cheek and he held my gaze, and he told me we'd be ok.

But he fucked it up.

Snapping out of it, I reply to Flo after I've been staring at her text for a couple of minutes.

ME: miss you too flo-mo. thanks <3 il be back before you know it and hopefully dads right! maybe ill figure out my universal truth in the middle of the grand canyon! the fish can stay in the sea though

I put my phone down, not expecting a reply considering she's a kid and it's about five o'clock in the morning for her, so the almost instant buzz makes me jump.

FLO: the middle of the grand canyon is a mile deep. please don't find yourself there. i hope your trip people are nice and maybe you'll find a fish in the pacific!

ME: GO TO SLEEP FLORENCE

FLO: it's the weekend and i was reading! i couldn't sleep and mum said read a book but it's a REALLY good book so i'm still awake but i've nearly finished

I roll my eyes at her message. Flo is a total mini-Mum, her head always in a book. Dad too, for that matter, though he doesn't worship books the way they do: he likes to read, but his books are battered and waterlogged and often unusable by the time he's done with them. Mum and Flo treat their books like babies. Flo's obsessed with words and she's a fount of knowledge, always spewing random facts.

A few minutes later, she sends another text to tell me that she's finished her book and she's going to sleep – at nearly five thirty – and I plug in my phone and lie back with my hands crossed over my stomach. Across the room, I can hear the quietest tap of Arjun's finger on his screen, until that too goes quiet, and he turns out the light.

Less than nine hours until this adventure really starts.

The next time I glance at my watch, another hour has gone by and somehow I've done a whole lot of thinking and no sleeping, and it's creeping closer to midnight. Over the past few days, I've got used to the hustle and bustle of sleeping in a hostel, with people constantly coming and going, but Arjun and I are living by the same clock.

"Are you awake?" I ask, the words coming out slightly louder than intended.

A grunt. He rolls over. "Whatever I say, you've got your answer."

"Not necessarily. You told me you talk in your sleep."

A gruff, sleepy laugh ensues. "Touché."

"I can't sleep," I say, some distant part of me wondering how long it'll be before Arjun's sick of me. I know I can be a bit intense sometimes, full of questions and comments, a constant stream of consciousness. "I'm so fucking tired but I can't sleep."

"Read a book," he says. I can't see him at all thanks to the blackout curtains, and I wonder if he's rolling his eyes and planning to ask Sam to switch tent mates.

"I can't."

"You can't read?"

"I can read," I say, "but it's hard."

"Dyslexia?" he asks.

"Mmhmm. And dyscalculia. And dyspraxia."

"Wow. You're a triple threat."

"To myself," I add.

Arjun laughs. It's a nice laugh. I don't think he's annoyed at me for talking through midnight, one day flipping over to the next, though that might be a different story in the morning. My thoughts are tick-tick-ticking and the words are out almost before I realise I've asked Arjun when his birthday is.

He doesn't ask why. He just says, "Fourteenth of March."

What I say is: "Pi day! Same as my mum."

What I think is: he's a Pisces. The fish.

That will make Flo smile.

*

and there we have it, the first three chapters of ABGTTAW! from now on, i will be posting on a monday/wednesday/friday schedule, so if you can't read during the week, you'll have the weekend to catch up - and I can keep ahead with writing! i really hope you're enjoying the story so far!