A Pair Of Pears (Completed)

Virginity

The rain hammers down on me, as I run down the dark country roads. I know Gran will be alright, she’s as strong as an ox, but I somehow know the blame will be placed on me. I briefly stop to catch my breath and to put my hoodie on. I’m soaking wet, and my converse shoes are logged with water and mud. I reach Jackson’s and my run turns into a walk as the rain begins to stop. I hammer on the front door several times, but there’s no answer. This family must sleep through anything, I think to myself as I make my way around to the back. I try the same with the back door but still get no answer. I stand on the doorstep, drenched, tired and freezing. Willow’s is too far for me to go at this time, tears start to roll down my cheeks as I finally get to a point where I can’t cope with this all anymore, I want to escape my life, End it all. I leave the back garden again, questioning what to do next. I spot the camper in the drive, the one that Jackson’s dad takes when he goes on tour. I try my luck with the side door, and to my surprise, it slides open. I guess that’s a perk of living here, you can leave a door unlocked and no one will bat and eyelid. If you did that in Brum, thieves would steal everything you had. The camper smells of Nag Champa, another smell along with Patchouli that I have gotten used to since living here. I find them very comforting now. I spot Jackson’s Hands-Off Gretel t-shirt slung over the seat. He was wearing that shirt the first time we met. I slip off my muddy converse and pull off my wet clothes and put on his t-shirt. It’s far too big for me, hangs just above my knees, but it’s better than wearing wet clothes. I lay back on the bed and pull up an old woollen blanket over me, it smells like Jackson and I fall straight to sleep. 
I awake to the sound of shouting and the early morning sun shining through the shabby handmade curtains. I get up and slide open the camper door, to find Lily and Willow stood out the front with Jackson and his mum. All four of them looked relieved to see me, Willow comes rushing straight over and flings her arms around my neck. 
‘Oh Charlie! Thank goat-cat-rabbit-dog-spider monkeys, you’re ok!’  She pauses, her face suddenly filled with sadness. She gulps. ‘People, Police, Social workers, they have been looking for you all night.’  Willow looks down at her flip-flops. 
‘Your Gran! She’s...’
I know what’s coming, deep down I knew last night. I was just trying to convince myself otherwise, I knew I’d get the blame, and now people were looking for me.  I push past Willow and run back through Jackson’s garden and jump over the small gate at the back, into the field behind. I run through the field behind the house, still in nothing but Jackson’s t-shirt. The wind blows through my hair and the cold mud squelches in-between my toes. This moment, this exact moment, running through the fields, is the first time I have ever felt free. I know it won’t last, but I take the moment while I have it. I can hear my name being called but I ignore it and carried on running. The next thing I know; I’m running down the tree tunnel towards the spot where we camped out. 
I stand in front of the river, contemplating jumping in. I can’t swim, it will be quick and easy. I’ll be out of the way; people can stop worrying about me. I’m only a burden to those that shouldn’t be concerned about me anyway, and those that should be, aren’t. Why not end it all? Just as I’m about to jump, I’m pulled back. 
‘No, you don’t!’ Jackson sternly says into my ear, as I try to fight him off. 
He tightly wraps his arms around me. His warm body is like a furnace up against mine, he buries his head in my hair and his breath on the back of my neck gives me Goosebumps. I turn so that my face is now buried in his t-shirt. There’s that smell again, that Jackson-patchouli smell. It doesn’t smell like regular patchouli, on him, it smells different. 
‘You like running, don’t you?’ He jokes. 
I look up at him and he rubs his thumb over the scar on my head. 
‘It’s over.’  He says softly. ‘Everyone knows.’
‘Am I in trouble?’ I ask wiping the tears that are now blurring my eyes. 
‘Why would you be in trouble?’ he asks, looking puzzled. 
‘It’s your mum that’s in trouble, she killed her Charlie! And she hurt you!’ 
‘But, I get the blame for everything.’ 
Jackson wraps his arms around me again, even tighter this time.  ‘Not this time. It’s over, the truth is out, it’s over.’ Jackson lifts my chin up and kisses me, he’s been eating Pop Tarts again. 
‘You look great in my t-shirt, by the way, probably even better with it off.’ 
Next thing I know, the t-shirt is coming off, along with the one Jackson is wearing, and his jeans, as we fell back onto the wet grass.