The Significance of Orange Juice

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

“Stupid Lewis, can’t believe that he made me loose to Jay,” I muttered under my breath, as my pencil flew across the page. “First time I’d won too, but no, Lewis had to go and do the ‘right thing’.”

                And that arrogant look on Jay’s face. Urgh, he’s such a self-centred, conceited, stuck-up pig! He came into my café, made me look like a fool and then somehow managed to convince Lewis that it was all my fault. The nerve of some people –

                CRACK!

                I jumped, startled by the loud noise, and I looked down at my drawing guiltily. Little splinters of wood were scattered across the paper. I’d pressed so hard against my sketchbook that I’d broken my pencil in two. Half of the pencil was still hanging uselessly from my fingers and I threw it against the wall in a fit of frustration. Stupid Jay too.

                I blew gently on the paper to dislodge the shards of pencil and lead before looking appraisingly at the picture. I’d drawn a man being bashed on the head with a very full and heavy bag of coffee beans. The man was now forever captured mid-fall, clutching the back of his head with one hand. To the untrained eye, I guess that it might look like Jay, but there was clearly no reason why I would ever want to draw Jay like that…

                I sighed and put the picture to one side for the minute. Ah well, at least it’s better to draw myself attacking Jay than to actually go through with it; there was less chance of being charged with Grievous Bodily Harm or Assault with a Blunt Instrument for one thing.

                I realised that my hands were quietly throttling the air and I gave up. If I wanted to get Jay off my mind, then I’d have to be proactive about it. My coat was hanging on the back of my door – where it was meant to be for once – and I pulled it on as I sent a text to Olivia to warn her that I was on my way. It was raining outside, as per the norm for a summer in England. To be honest, the word ‘summer’ was a bit of a misnomer in this country.

                “I’m going to Livvy’s.” I called out to my parents as I reached the front door. I got the usual ‘Alright’ from my mother and silence from my father. My parents were beginning to be predictable as the rain.

                The wind whipped my hair into my face as I opened my umbrella. I started to head towards Liv’s house, making sure to splash in a few puddles along the way. There’s no point denying myself the small pleasures in life, and I’d rather be childish and happy than mature and miserable.

                I was still giggling slightly to myself as I rang Liv’s doorbell, after a woman had walked past me, haughtily complaining about the short-comings of the youth of today. Apparently if we’re not shooting up in an alley, we’re behaving like toddlers. There’s just no pleasing some people.

                The door opened and I gasped in surprise. “Harry!” I yelled happily, launching myself into his unsuspecting arms. “I didn’t know that you were back!”

                Harry laughed as he returned my hug. “Just got back today. So, care to tell me how my favourite little sister is?”

                “I heard that!” Olivia shouted from upstairs and I laughed, finally releasing Harry from my hold.

                “You were supposed to!” he called back to her, before turning back around to look curiously at me. “Isabelle, have you been jumping in the puddles again?”