Page 20 of Open Water

“Let’s get you to sit up, Pumpkin,” he says.

I don’t look him in the eye. I can’t. It’s too raw. Too much. I am messy. I am me. I can’t. I just can’t.

He drags me out of our under-the-stairs hiding place. I don’t even remember crawling in there, but I must have. I am cold. Shivering, even though I am still wearing my jacket. Shrugging as Matteo dusts off my back and turns me around so we are facing each other.

He’s as tall as me. I have never noticed that. His eyes looking at mine with that beaming smile. Whilst my face probably looks like it has been in a serious altercation with a snot machine, all bloated and blotchy from tears.

“You’re okay. Max 1. Panic 0. Now, let’s go and listen to the losers upstairs trying to write epic theatre. Then we can secretly laugh at their pathetic romance shite, and go tell them how it’s done. Shall we get in there and fix it? Give them some proper drama? Whaddya say, Pumpkin?”

He flicks his fringe out of his eyes with a jerk of his head. Beams at me with a mischievous arch of his eyebrow.

Fuck. I am done for. I will never survive this. This crazy idea of having Matteo for a friend. I don’t know if I can do it. I don’t know if my fragile heart can take it.

I don’t know shit. I just follow him blindly up the stairs and walk into the classroom behind him, letting the door slam shut behind us.

TO: [email protected]

FROM: [email protected]

SUBJECT:

Max. Can you please tell your Dad to back off?

Lukas

TO: [email protected]

FROM: [email protected]

RE:

What has he done now?

TO: [email protected]

FROM: [email protected]

RE:

He sent me flowers. To my place of work. Not cool.

Please explain to him how inappropriate this is.

Lukas

TO: Lukas. [email protected]

FROM: [email protected]

RE:

Tell him yourself.

Tom Andersson. 07787322544

Facebook Tom Andersson. He is the one with no profile pic.

Tom.Andersson@akutvården.gov.se

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