Page 19 of The Story Of Us

When Violet first started noticing my art, she encouraged me more than anyone else did, and I know I probably would have given up if I hadn’t had her support. She’s the reason I even started thinking about applying for animation at university, and her support made me believe that it was a real possibility for my future.

We planned it all out together, dreamed of a future with both of us going to university in London so we wouldn’t have to be apart, following our hearts' desires and having a future together. But that dream doesn’t exist anymore.

“Isaac, how was art club?” Jinhee asks, and I know it’s just an innocent question, but it brings Violet back to the forefront of my mind. I open my mouth to speak, but all that comes out is a sigh. “What happened?”

I push the remains of my food around the plate, trying to avoid looking at any of my friends.

“Nothing, we just didn’t do much.” I keep staring at my plate until I feel a sharp pain in my shin. “Ow, Luke. What was that for?!”

“You’re hiding something.”

The fact that he’s managed to figure that out with just one sentence is beyond scary, but there’s a reason he’s my best friend. I think he’s always known me better than I know myself.

I drop my fork, and it clatters against the plate as I try to figure out how much I can tell them without giving anything away.

I’ve never told any of them about Violet, barely even mentioned her over these past few years, because after that first day, we mainly just kept to ourselves and Violet did the same. But once our relationship changed, became something more, it felt right just to keep it between the two of us. It was special, something sacred that I didn’t want to share with anyone else. But now I’m stuck, unable to talk about what happened today without exposing our past.

“Mrs. Harper and Mr. Hale decided to join their clubs together and make us do a pair project. It’s just annoying that I have to work with someone else.” The quiet loner angle seems like the best one to take.

“Who did you get paired with?” Olivia asks, and I debate for a few seconds whether or not to lie to them. There’s no point, though, because, hopefully, at some point, they’ll see us working together.

“Violet.” It feels wrong to say her name with complete indifference to my friends, and I have to take a sip of water before continuing like I can wash it away. Whenever I called her by her name before, it was hard to hide my admiration for her, and I don’t know how it took so long for her to figure out that I liked her. “She’s the only person in our year in the writing club, so I guess I got lucky there.”

I try to put a positive spin on it, but it feels like my face is about to crack open from the effort of having to school my expression.

“Maybe you can get lucky in another way,” Luke says, barely finishing the sentence before Jinhee whacked him on the arm. “What did I do?”

“That was vile, Lucas. Don’t say anything like that again.” She says, and I can’t help but laugh at how ridiculous Luke looks as he apologises to her, hands clasped together like he’s begging for forgiveness. For a moment, I consider trying that with Violet.

Olivia’s hand covers mine that’s resting on the table and she gives it a quick squeeze.

“Whatever you make will be great,” she says with a smile, and I give her a halfhearted one back as she pats my hand before letting go.

Luke is pouting at Jinhee and Olivia makes fun of him, the conversation diverting to another topic that I don’t pay attention to. Instead, I think about approaching Violet on Monday and seeing if we can make this project work somehow, and maybe, us too.

8

VIOLET

I don’t want to blame seeing Isaac out to dinner on Friday for the reason that I locked myself away all weekend, but I can’t lie to myself that it didn’t contribute a tiny bit.

Avery convinced me to go out for dinner to celebrate getting through our first week back at school and I was enjoying myself right up until the moment we walked into the restaurant and I saw Isaac. He was sitting next to Olivia, her hand resting on top of his, and it felt like my heart stopped beating for a second.

There was a time when I could touch his hand like that either to get his attention or just for the comfort of it. He would flip his around almost instantly, lace our fingers together, and stroke the back of my hand with his thumb to reassure me that he was there for me without saying a single word.

Seeing them sitting side by side with her hand on his just made me realise that was something we never did in public, and now we never will. I’ll never be able to even brush my fingers against his again, and that realisation sent a full body ache through me. By some stroke of luck, it ended up being a thirty-minute wait for a table, so we decided to go somewhere else instead. I don’t think I could have handled staying there a moment longer.

The main reason I stayed in my room all weekend, though, was because of an argument with my mum. We were having our usual Saturday morning phone call, and it started fine with both of us catching each other up on how our weeks had gone. She was a little annoyed that I hadn’t called her since Monday, but I told her I was busy. I didn’t want her to bring up coming home again because I didn’t want to tell her face-to-face that I was planning on moving away for university.

When she brought up applications, though, I decided to bite the bullet and get it over with. I’d explained that I’d thought about it a lot over the past few months, and it was something I really wanted to do, told her all the positives that I’d been listing in my head over and over again, ready for this conversation.

I didn’t tell her that another reason was because I was growing tired of her constantly hovering around me and that it was only worse this summer after I told her about Isaac. I know her constant check-ins are because she cares but it can feel suffocating. It feels like even though I’ve lived away from home for six years now, she still thinks I’m the eleven-year-old who first came here.

Her reaction was less than enthusiastic, and instead, I got a long lecture about leaving her just like her husband did. Even after all these years, she’s still not over it, but I think I understand it. I was wrecked after Isaac broke up with me, and our relationship was nowhere near as serious as theirs. They were together for years, got married, had a child, and he still decided to leave. Even though I’ve never met him, I wonder if my mum can see him in me, and I worry that by moving away, I’m doing the same thing he did.

But I can’t let the actions of someone I don’t even know stop me from living the life I want. I tried to reassure her by saying that I would visit home often and call as much as I could, just like I’d been doing since starting at Coates, but she didn’t want to hear it and just told me she would call me later.

The rest of that day was spent wallowing in my bed, and I only left because Avery came to get me for dinner. She stayed in my room the night, and I explained everything that had happened to her, leaving out any parts about Isaac.

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