Every schoolgirl has crushes, but could a schoolgirl crush last a lifetime?
When 17-year old Martha starts at a new school, she carries a glimmer of hope that this time will be different. She doesn't seek popularity, but rather a quiet space where s...
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Once the students had drifted away to research their assignment, Dean made his way to the Sorolla room in the National Gallery. Martha was already there, sitting on the seat in the middle, contemplating a large canvas of a woman in bed with her baby. Her favourite Sorolla.
Martha looked up at Dean, but didn't say a word.
"We probably shouldn't be seen together alone. Even if nothing is going on, girls like to gossip," said Dean.
"I read your assignment sheet. I think we have about ten minutes before the others make it through the first few rooms and fudge the rest."
Dean laughed. "You're probably right."
"So let's not waste time." Martha looked at the picture and continued. "You are the most amazing person I have ever met."
Dean said quietly, "You haven't met many people."
"True. But you are the most amazing person I'll ever meet."
"How can you know that?"
"If I felt any more strongly about someone, my heart would explode." Martha turned to look at Dean and their eyes connected, pulling each other in stronger, seconds seeming like hours. Martha moved her hand towards Dean's and put her fingers over his.
He moved his hand away as if he'd touched a live wire. He breathed in sharply and glanced up at the security camera. "Martha, don't." Dean stood up, and moments later, another student came into the room.
"Sir, Julia shoved my sheet behind a sculpture and I'm afraid to get it back..."
"Okay, I'm coming. Show me where your paper is, Andrea..."
Martha was so charged with energy she couldn't stay seated. She got up, walked towards the painting, and looked at the woman in it. "Isn't love a crazy thing?" It wasn't a question for anyone to answer, but when she turned around, she saw she was alone.
* * *
Dean didn't look at her for the rest of the trip. He sat well away from Martha at tea at the Tate, and whenever she looked towards him on the coach, he was talking to the driver or staring straight out front. She didn't care. She could float on the cloud of remembering for hours.
