Chapter Eight

Thursday 16th, April

Give Me One Good Reason

When Jamie steps out of his office and catches me walking past on my way through the media block, I'm pretty sure everyone within a ten mile radius can hear my internal screams of Oh god, what have I done now...

And as he calls out my name in a casual manner, with one arm leisurely stretched across the doorframe, hair loose and dishevelled, I'm convinced that the sinking in my stomach echoes loudly throughout the corridor as I step forward. Anticipation mixes with nerves.  Thumps with the potential threat of ICE, right in time for when Jamie's warm hand falls gently on my shoulder, to  guide me in. 

He shuts the door and I awkwardly idle by it, feeling stuck in the red. 

Blushing 18 shades of it.

"Josie, have you got a moment?" He moves a pile of sketchbooks from the edge of his desk, which he then perches on. Waiting for a reply, he pushes up the sleeves of his half button down t-shirt, because it's still so damn warm outside. And inside too - if the heat from my face is anything to go by.

"Uh..." My voice is hoarse. "I guess so." The weight in my stomach sinks further with the worry of having possibly missed one of his lessons. If I've been stupid enough to write the wrong time table down in my notebook again.

"Okay, so, there are a couple of things I wanted to briefly talk about," Jamie gestures that I take a seat opposite, telling me to make myself comfortable with zero irony. "Firstly, I wanted to check in and see how you're feeling about the presentation next week?"

"Fine."

"Are you sure?"

I turn away, catching a breath. "Sure." I'm not giving an inch but then again, it's hard to care when I'm blushing one million degrees.

He leans forwards and flashes a sympathetic yet troubled smile. "It's just that you've been awfully quiet in our lessons this week. I'm, well frankly a little worried about you. Something just doesn't feel quite right."

Nothing new there.

"Is there anything else on your mind Josie? Apart from the presentation?" He brings a hand to rest on the seats plastic back. "I was your age once, though that may be hard to believe." Quietly he chuckles, though it's not hard to believe. He doesn't look a day over twenty.

When he starts to scoot off the desk and crouches low beside me, his aftershave crushes all my senses and sanity, and as I try to recoil in my seat all of me sticks to the vinyl chair cover. A farting squeak of a sound that is beyond mortifying escapes from under and gains a perplexed, slightly shocked expression from him.

I begin to stutter, mumbling away the embarrassment. "I...um...well. No? Not really. There's nothing on my mind."

It's a lie. There's a lot going on in there right now. And I feel guilt and shame for thinking them, as if he'll be able to hear them all if I acknowledge his face, or his gaze as he gives me a frustrated look of defeat.

"Josie, you're a really talented, intelligent student. I'd hate for you to feel like you can't show your full potential in class - for whatever reason that may be. I understand your mum has her concerns, and I do too," Jamie sighs, tucking his hands into his tight chino pockets.

I shove mine deep into my jean pockets, unable to give him what he wants, which is to spill my guts. I deploy a tactic often used with my mum instead, when she gets too close for comfort. Too close to unveiling the truth.

"Look Mr. Cockburn, I'm sorry to disappoint you but honestly I'm fine. There's nothing to talk about or discuss, so I don't really know what else I can say that'll satisfy you." My cheeks fire up again but I keep my voice steady, measured. Like I'm telling the truth.

This deflection seems to work. Jamie looks downcast but he retreats. "Okay, Josie. If you say so, I won't push any further. But again, like I always say," He strains his neck and clasps his hands together, "my door and ears are open, to listen, to talk."

"I'm fine," I say, with a small laugh, like he's the one being over the top. Worrying about nothing. I begin to stand, carefully prying the back of my jeans away from the seat cover.

He stops me with the block of his arm. "Before you go, there actually was another reason why I called you in." Dragging paperwork across the desk, he peels away a few neon post-it notes and pinches at a folded piece of paper. "This is for you." He passes a note with torn edges over.

My breathing speeds up as I take it, eyes searching for meaning, though it's blank all over.

"I was instructed to give this to you by an eager young gentleman this morning, on my way out of the media studies room," he explains with a wry smirk. "He was quite adamant I pass it along before lunchtime."

I catch a glimpse of the small plastic clock nailed to the wall behind him. It's just gone eleven forty seven am.

As I fumble with the note, unsure if I should open it in front of him, Jamie clasps his hands together and moves for the door. "Don't worry, I didn't read it."

I nod and then, before curiosity swallows me whole, I unfold it, one torn corner at a time.

Josie,

Meet me in Montauk...

...only joking!

Sunken Garden, today at 12 o'clock, lunch?

Max

Jamie watches my finger trace each sentence, though he pretends to be concerned about the loose screw on the metal door handle. I hear him chuckle at the Eternal Sunshine reference as I hover over it. And he's so painfully obvious that I don't bother folding it back, but I do have a minor moment of panic when he grins down at me.

"He's helping me out!" I say all too quickly and loudly, waving the note between us. "The guy that came by today. That's him. He's not anything else in case you thought he was."

"Anything else what..?"He appears confused, as if the thought hasn't even crossed his mind or like it could never be possible, if it eventually did. Not that I blame him.

"Not like my boy-" I cut myself off before the word can slip out. "He's just helping me, that's all, as a friend."

He taps his finger on the handle. "Helping with..?"

I cough into my hand, hating how stupid I must sound, my throat squeezed tight at the almost-uttering of boyfriend in front of Jamie. "My presentation. For next week."

He smiles. It raises his brushy brow and cheekbones. "Oh right. Well, that's great Josie. I'm happy to hear that you've got someone to help you."

"I have to go." Finally I find the energy to spring up from my seat, ready to sprint out of his office with all my raging embarrassment for the last five minutes, and for the method of delivery of the scribbled words tucked inside my palm.

"Of course, go, enjoy your lunch" he says, as I duck under his arm back out into the corridor. "See you next week."

"Uh huh. Yeah sure. Bye." I don't look back, nor do I try to catch his reflection in the double doors when I swing them both open to see if he's still watching. Gawping at my red face. The note still stuck to my palm, with the heat of my anger and building betrayal - no matter the innocent intentions - has all my attention now.

I need to get to the sunken garden to find Max and let him know just what he's created. What he's made me suffer through: an unwelcome, cringeworthy chat with a tutor too hot and inquisitive for my ICE stricken sensibilities to handle, and a tempestuous blush too blisteringly hot to hide.

* * *

Heat rises from me at an alarming rate as I dodge the intensity of the midday sun, the sunken garden set in my sights. And Max. The back of his head and messy hair visible when I take the jagged concrete steps down, my own head bowed low. Cheeks raging.

He greets me with a wide, dimpled grin before pulling his dark sunglasses down, to wipe them with the sleeve of his red flannel shirt. "Right on time-"

"Why did you do that to me?" I say, aware that I'm blushing from my forehead to my fingertips as I stand above him accusingly.

The muscles in his neck tighten. And his grin fades like my intentions to keep my voice from sounding breathless and gruff.

"Huh? What do you mean?" The balls of his cheeks grow rosy.

I dangle the note out in front of his nervous gaze to jog his memory. "This. Why did you give something like this to Jamie, I mean Mr. Cockburn?"

"Mr. McFittie?" Max says with a slight frown.

"You know who I'm talking about."

He shrugs, fiddling with the arms of his sunglasses. "I asked him to pass it along because I couldn't find you. And I didn't want to miss you before you went home for the afternoon."

"So you thought you'd try and kill with me embarrassment first?

"No-"

"Then what? Why couldn't you just...text or call?"

Max tilts his head up, his eyes fixed on mine as he deadpans. "I don't have your number."

I choke back his valid reason and slowly, my body relaxes. He's got a point.

Raising his leg up onto the wooden beam, he rests his elbow on his knee and his chin in the palm of his hand. A deep breath escapes from his lips. "Josie, look I never meant for it to be a big deal-"

It's hard to get the words out when he's staring at me, with puppy dog eyes and an apologetic blush that I know is hard to fake. Still, I manage to squeeze them out, slowly, all in a mumble. "But you didn't think, not even for one second that it would be pretty mortifying for my tutor to call me into his office, right in front of everyone to hand me over a note, which could have been expressed perfectly well in person?"

"No I didn't but that's-"

"Now he thinks your my boyfriend," I scoff, shaking my head at the absurdity. "And he thinks there's something wrong, with me. Which is hard to convince otherwise when my face looks like this every time he see's me." I jab at my cheeks, then at my nose and neck. Every inch of me burning scarlet. Max burns holes into the rip in his jeans as he stares down at it, jabbing his own finger through the frayed denim.

"Josie," he says quietly, "I'm sorry, okay? You're right. I wasn't thinking straight, or about how it might affect you. I just... wanted to see you. I thought we could have lunch together, maybe brush up on some more of your presentation...or just talk, hang out."

My stomach sinks for a third time. But deeper. I feel bad for getting so angry. For scoffing right in his face, and for potentially jeopardising my first real friendship here at Southbrook. And hindsight suggests that I should've given myself time to calm and cool down before picking a fight with the one person who, without any coaxing wants to be in my corner.

To be my friend.

"What else can I say? It backfired, but do me a favour would you?" Max yanks up his backpack from beside him and roots round in the pockets. When he pulls out his mobile phone it's casing is battered and held together by black masking tape. "Put your number in here so I don't ever make the mistake of handing over sensitive, ICE triggering information to your dishy tutor again, please."

My fingers reach out for it, sliding over the small keys as I try and remember which numbers to press. "He's not dishy."

He cocks his head to one side. A wry smirk plays on his lips. "I'm not blind."

Sweat pours from every pore as I tap in my number and save it under Josie (College). "We should get out of here, this place is a sun trap."

Max nods in agreement, his arms lifting to show that I'm not the only one with serious perspiration issues. "I've got a place in mind, you wanna grab lunch on the way?"

I shake my backpack and the lunchbox mum shoved in it during a manic morning rush, knocks loudly against it. "Sure, but I'll have to ditch this dead weight first."

"You do mean your lunch box, right..?" he replies, the sarcasm slipping through like my hand on his shoulder to halt him from turning away.

"Max," I say softly but swallowing hard. "I'm sorry. I am. For being an arse. For getting...well so angry. I should have heard you out first." Heat radiates from under his shirt. "I mean, it's not like you handed it over to someone like Maddie," I laugh, enjoying the way he bites down on his bottom lip as I talk.

"It's fine."

"Honestly, I don't want you to feel bad."

When he sighs, his shoulders deflating rapidly, I worry that it's going to take more than a few apologies to convince him otherwise but I would be wrong. I should have been paying more attention.

"Speak of the devil and she shall appear," Max groans, his eyes focused behind me.

A deep shudder ripples through as I slowly turn to the sunken garden steps and above.

Maddie's got her arm linked in Spencer's. And a girl, who once elbowed me out of the canteen queue trails behind them, drowning in their overcast combined shadow.

Looping round the edge of the garden, Maddie's sandals clink against the concrete and her laughter traps us within it.

"Blimey, she gets around quick," she sniggers, tossing her loosely curled dark hair back against the light breeze. Strands of it catch in the mouth of the girl behind. Quickly she pulls it out. Doesn't utter a word. "Look at her."

Spencer's attention falls on me, and then to Max who he grimaces at. "I know right. Did you see her come out from Mr. Cockburn's office earlier?"

Maddie nods, tightening her grip on Spencer's forearm. "Probably trying to bribe her way out of that presentation she's still got to give."

"Josie-" Max whispers, as my eyes start to sting. I know he wants me to ignore them both, to look away but I can't.

"Which is why she's so red faced now, from giving him a blowie under his desk," she snorts. "Seeing as she's like, completely obsessed with him. Emily-Jay says it's sickening."

Spencer tugs at the collar of his purple polo shirt. "Dirty whore."

"A dirty blow-job giving whore but still a Virgin, don't forget," She helpfully reminds him, and me. And Max, in case he didn't already suspect it. And everyone else within fifty feet of us.

"Oh yeah."

"Guess we'll find out if she spits or swallows next week when he posts everyone's results..." Maddie pretends to gag on two fingers, as the girl behind giggles and hangs off her every word.

"And now look at her, with that small dick loser," Spencer scowls down at Max again, as he stalks close by with Maddie. She fakes another gag, though she saves the last of her venom for me.

"Rosie Josie now gives Blowies!" She wildly shrieks, repeating it over and over like a nursery rhyme. When two students walk by and catch her new taunt they both laugh, and mimic her words.

I step back from Max but he catches my wrist. Heat from his shaky hands courses though my veins. "Come on, this way. We don't have to stand here and be subjected to anymore of this bullshit."

His tone is serious and I allow him to gently pull me along. My backpack slung over one shoulder swings hard into his as we charge up the steps together. Maddie and Spencer stop for a moment, the gulf of the sunken garden between us all and Max's heavy breathing. His anger evident in the strained appearance of his jaw, his eyes set on the pair of them like a wild dog.

But just as I feel like he may well charge at them like a blood thirsty beast, he brushes away a stray tear from my face, one I hadn't even felt fall and promptly turns his back on them.

I expect both to gloat and for the laughter to continue. For Maddie to maybe launch a fresh taunt over at us for witnessing Max touch my cheek but she abruptly stops. Her face sinks into a scowl as her eyes narrow.

She looks mad. Real mad. Just as mad as the time I beat her to a gold rosette during a tap dance competition in Primary School. It's weird deja-vu to see her cheeks turn a fiery red. I've just not got the balls or same level of spite in me to call her out on it, like she would and does so at every available opportunity.

"Come on," Max calls, bypassing the canteen entrance and the long queues within it.

"What about lunch?" I hurry alongside, tugging at my backpack. My head in a daze from the last few minutes and from witnessing Maddie's expression change into something I don't think I was supposed to see.

"Change of plans," he says, breathless. "We're going to get as far away from all of this, all of these people, as possible."

I tilt my face up towards the sky. "You got a rocket ship built somewhere you're not telling me about?"

Max's serious concentration breaks. "No, we're not flying away to space just yet, cadet," he says, with a soft chuckles, pushing hair away from his forehead. "But we are going somewhere where we can have some of our own space, without any further verbal assaults and interruptions."

With small hope I sigh, "Sounds like heaven."

* * *

With it's beady eyes set on the soggy, vinegar soaked chip stuck to the wooden fork I'm about to stuff into my mouth, a large seagull stalks dangerously close to my side.

Overhead more circle and squark. Dipping low to skim a few feet above, as if to scare us into retreat.

Heaven it is not.

But it is better than being trapped and confined within Southbrook's walls. Like sheep let loose amongst the wolves - the Maddie's and the Spencer's.

The beach isn't so bad in comparison. It's not too far a walk from the college either and it's warm, and there's a cool breeze that's chased away the itchy, heat that had clung to me ever since stepping into Jamie's office.

And I guess Max kept to his word - about having space of our own, because Splash Point - a huddle of man-made boulders and concrete blocks to stop winter waves from lashing over, is quiet. Empty even. Save for an elderly gentleman who had earlier passed by and chastised Max under his breath for wearing too much black and for not getting a hair cut.

But that was then and this is now, snide remarks aside. And it's almost vaguely tranquil and tropical, with a few thousand jagged pebbles between us and the open sea, shimming in the distance.

As another yellow beaked gull tries its luck Max turns to me with a mouthful of chip shop chips we'd picked up on the way to the beach, and says, "Just shoo the bastard away," but it comes out in a mumbled jumble. Instead, I huddle further from it and dig my feet into the pebbles below.

"Can I say sorry again?"

I pretend to tut. "No..."

"But I feel awful. That wouldn't of happened if it weren't for me," he says, his voice low. "I made it so much worse for you."

"It's done now," I offer, hoping that we can move on, like we did from them. "No matter what you did Maddie would still act the same way towards me."

Max finishes off the last of his chips and leans back on his elbows, one eye scrunched shut from the glare of the sun. "You know she's just jealous though, right? Of you, because someone like Mr. Cockburn would never stop to give her the time of day like he would you."

"Hah," I snort. "Yeah, sure." I may not have any fondness for her but Maddie isn't some ogre. She's beautiful. Always has been. Ever since primary school with her trademark loose curls and perfect bone structure.

"She's rotten to the core Josie. Any decent person who dares to look beneath the surface can see that."

I know he's only trying to make me feel better.

Oddly it kind of works. "Yeah, she is."

Soon all talk of Maddie fades like the intense midday heat as we swing our legs off the wall and narrate the carefree lives of the seagulls around us. Mimicking accents and funny voices, of which Max is somewhat a natural at.

"If you could teleport yourself right now, where would you go? He asks, springing surprise upon me.

"Anywhere but here."

"You mean right here or Southbrook?" Max laughs, though maybe he's slightly offended that I'm sat right by him.

I nudge his arm. "Southbrook. This town. This country. I dunno. Anyways, it's pointless."

Removing his flannel shirt, he ties it loose round his waist and resumes his position close by. "Why's that?"

"Because I can't run away from the real issue, which is this," I caress my face with a soft sigh. "The blushing - constant. Uncontrollable... All day. Every day."

"Has it stopped you doing a lot of stuff?" Max asks, "Things you love?"

"Loved," I say, unable to swallow down the memories of them all. "Yes. It has." And without filter, without worry I tell him about them.

I confess that I loved to dance, and sing. That I was good at both. And how much I enjoyed being the center of attention, all eyes and spotlight on me. How my face wasn't always bathed in a red.

We spend a long while trading war stories, and it makes me feel slightly better about all my awful experiences, and how everything and everyone is a potential trigger.

"My own mind is a damn trigger most of the time," Max huffs, crossing his arms. "I only have to think of a moment ruined by ICE and it'll pull me back to it and unleash the worst."

"Once, I was down here with my family and my cousins, for a summer radio roadshow," I say, trading another story I've never spoken to anyone about before him. "And they were giving out free t-shirts, water bottles for kids that got up and answered a few questions. My mum was pushing me to go up with them, so I did even though I could barely stand from being so nervous about going red."

Max leans in, his lips sealed tight. Eyes willing me to continue. His hand brushing my knee.

"And... Well, you can guess the rest. One of the roadshow presenters joked that I could stop traffic. One of the kids next to me said that I looked like the beacons out at sea - like a buoy."

"That's mega harsh," he says, shaking his fist, as if he might jump back in time and give the kid a knock round the head. "Totally uncalled for."

"I never went back. Even now I avoid it, anything like it, though it was years ago."

"I don't blame you. Man, ICE is such a confusing, frustrating motherfucker." Max scrunches his mouth up, then he pinches one of my chips.

"Oi!"

"See?" He pretends to pose, showing off his cheekbones. "Nothing. I just stole from you and I couldn't even strain a blush if I tried. And I am trying."

"That's the point of it."

"So, okay, right now, for instance, I feel like I could concur the whole world. I feel fine. Like anything's possible. Like I could fucking tap dance for the whole of Southbrook up on this wall and not break out into a sweat."

"I would not be opposed to watching you do that," I gently tease, enjoying the easy rasp of his voice when he's excited.

Max shakes his head and hair about until it's as wild as the gulls engaging in turf warfare down by the boulders. "Maybe one day. Only if you sing a song for me to tap dance to..."

"Not a chance."

Quietly we both chuckle, with laughter turning into contemplative silence with only the lapping of the waves and warmongering birds filling the void of conversation. Until he bites his lip, and says, "What I hate, really hate is how I can go to the supermarket, see someone and blush. I go out, into town, just down the road, the end of my driveway and I blush. Sometimes it'll last five seconds but often it's longer. It feels a lot longer. Like minutes, hours...years. It leaves me feeling utterly useless. Hopeless."

My breath catches as I listen to him describe the thoughts and feelings that cripple my daily existence too.

"And I blush at almost everything and with everyone I know. At stupid, silly little things, but at important things too. I even blush by myself, in my room. I can be alone and I'll blush, how ridiculous is that?"

"It's not ridiculous, at least not to me," I assure, pushing over the last few chips I've left much to his delight. "Because, I know exactly how you feel..."