Page 38 of You Had Me At Thirteen

‘Bend over and ask him to spank you like the naughty little slut that you are.’

I snort into my spoonful of ice cream. ‘Yeah, right.’

Audrey tuts through the phone. ‘He’s under your skin, girlfriend. I can sense it.’

‘What?… No.’ I shove another spoonful of chocolate ice cream into mouth, forcing me to stop talking.

‘Matilda, how long have I known you? I’ve never seen a guy get to you the way he does. You just need to screw him out of your system.’

‘Not happening.’

If tonight is anything to go by, Wren doesn’t want to talk to me, let alone screw my brains out. The drive home was like drowning in a pool of silent screams. My brain was screaming out for him to say something. Anything. Instead, he ignored me like I wasn’t there. It was like he flipped a switch and there was no turning the lights back on.

Audrey sighs. ‘If you say so.’

I shove the spoon into the half-empty tub, my stomach churning. ‘Talk to you tomorrow?’

‘Sure, babe. Don’t have too many hot dreams about that sex god neighbour of yours.’ Audrey snorts, sending herself into a fit of giggles.

‘Good night, Audrey,’ I say as I pull the phone away from my ear to hang up. Her laughter is still taunting me when I end the call.

As I stretch out on my bed, I pull my laptop from my backpack, then open up the instructions for our English assignment. It takes only a second for me to slam it shut as quickly as I opened it, and fling myself onto my back on the bed. How the hell am I going to get through the next few weeks of looking into those eyes? They want to tell me everything, but the owner of them wants them to keep quiet.

It doesn’t take long before I’m drifting off to sleep, but I’m startled moments later by next door’s bin crashing onto the concrete.

I groan and climb from my bed to drag myself across the carpet to investigate. Assuming it’s Wren, I expect to see him half naked, or worse, fully naked. Although, these days I don’t hate his nakedness quite so much. I almost miss him showing me how skilled he is in the bedroom.

I said, almost.

But it’s not him. His car isn’t in the driveway and his bedroom light is off. As I peer down into his yard, a figure comes into view, stalking the perimeter of the house, face hidden under a black hoodie.

Mum isn’t home, so I race for my phone, pulling up Wren’s number. I jab the call button and wait as I creep back over to my window, bending low so I’m not seen. ‘Pick up, pick up.’ I’m bouncing on the spot while I wait.

Wren answers seconds later. ‘Matilda? What’s wrong?’ His voice is full of concern, which tugs at my heart a little until I remember why I’m ringing.

‘Wren,’ I say, almost choking on his name. ‘Thank God… Someone’s in your yard.’ My words fly out, leaving me a little breathless.

‘What?’

‘They’re just walking around, peeking into the windows. Do you want me to call the police or something?’

‘Fuck.’ The screech of tyres screams down the phone, leaving me barely able to make out Wren’s next words. ‘Stay inside. I’ll be there in five minutes.’ Then the phone goes dead.

I feel helpless standing here doing nothing as I wait for Wren. Maybe I should call the police. That’s the logical reaction when you find some creeper creeping in your yard.

But before I have time to open up my phone again, a light in Wren’s house comes on upstairs. The first thing that comes to mind is Wren’s mum being all alone in there with some weirdo outside, so I race down the stairs jumping the final three, before heading into the closet to find my old baseball bat. Once it’s in my hand, I burst through my front door, leaving it wide open in case I need a quick retreat.

I’m racing towards Wren’s house, wondering what the fuck I’m doing. My body is moving while my brain fights to talk sense into it.

A streetlight flickers above me, sending a chill up my spine and my body igniting in goosebumps. If I’m yet to make the stupidest decision of my life, this has got to be it.

I glance up, begging the light to stop. How come nearly every horror movie I’ve ever watched involves flickering streetlights, and dark hooded figures? But I don’t have time to answer myself when the person appears again from the back of the house. He stops – I’m assuming it’s a male – when he sees me.

‘Hey.’ I sprint forward, no idea what to do if he actually comes at me, but the bat in my hands has me feeling braver than I should.

When I get closer, I realise my initial assumption is correct. It is a male, but he’s not very tall, or big, so I may stand a fighting chance if he attacks me. As I make it to the front right-hand side of Wren’s house, the intruder makes a run for it, so I chase him as he makes his way around the back of the house towards the other side. I’m sprinting, the bat ready to smack a bitch as I come up behind him. I’m about five metres away when he reaches the front of the house and takes a sharp left, darting across to the other side of the road.

Wren’s car screams up the street as the intruder runs in behind the houses on the opposite side. I’m still chasing when Wren pulls up in front of me in his driveway, the car skidding to a stop.

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