Snowflakes

December 13th

13th

"Companionship is a foreign concept to some people. They fear it as much as the majority of people fear loneliness." ― Criss Jami

On Saturday I listen to the playlist on the way to town. My Mum tuts at how I've got headphones plugged into my ears rather than participating in conversation, but she doesn't make me take them out. I don't think she has the heart; she can see the happy smile that lingers on my lips throughout the journey.

"So what's that you're listening to there?" she asks, curious as ever, the moment I reluctantly pull my headphones from my ears as we clamber out of the car.

"Just some music."

To this she mutters something I can't quite catch, then speed-walks in the direction of the shops, leaving me struggling to keep up.

"What's with the rush?" I ask. "The shops will still be there in two minutes time."

"I'm just excited!" she exclaims, leaving me questioning how she is actually my mother therefore supposedly the responsible, mature one of us.

The shopping trip loses its enjoyability after about the fifth shop. I've looked in any stores that are at a vague interest to me and now I'm getting bored. I'm sure to let my Mum know this, too.

"I'm booooored," I moan, dragging out the word as if it will show just how fed up I am with trudging around endless, packed shops.

"Scarlett, stop moaning. It's your own fault for not bringing a friend; I told you that you could."

She's right there. This morning she said that I can bring a friend, but the only friend I have who I might invite out anywhere is Immy and she's busy going to the cinema with a bunch of popular kids, and it would take more than a lame shopping trip with my Mum to make Immy ditch a day out with them.

"Whatever, but can we at least go and get a drink now?" I ask hopefully.

To my delight, she gives in with a defeated nod and ten minutes later we've just got our drinks at Starbucks. I cup my hands around the mug of salted caramel hot chocolate as we head to one of the high stools at the bar where you can still look out at the crowds of people rushing past. I'm glad; people watching is one of my favourite pastimes.

We sit in silence, but it's not really silence because of the noise of the bustling people filling up the café as we sip at our drinks. But neither of us speak, other than when Mum offers me a try of her pumpkin spice latté. I tentatively take a tiny sip, though that sip turns to a gulp when I get a taste of it. There's only one way to describe the taste of the latté: Christmas.

It's still quiet when I finish the final dregs of my warming drink, until Mum suddenly leaps off of the stool she's perched on.

"Over there, it's Julie!" she points excitedly at a middle aged woman who's just strolled into the café by herself. I nod along and smile, pretending I actually have a clue as to the relevance of Julie. "She goes to my yoga class! Would you mind if I just go over and chat to her for a bit? I haven't seen her in so long."

I don't even get a chance to respond before my mother has rushed off through the crowded shop.

Unsure of what else to do, I pull out my phone and open up Twitter. I'm scrolling aimlessly down my timeline when my Mum approaches me again. She quickly informs me that she and Julie are going to the cookery shop that just opened and tells me to 'entertain myself' for a bit.

Figuring it would be slightly weird and very pointless to sit in Starbucks by myself when I've finished my drink; I get up and follow her out of the café. I'm not really paying attention as I leave, so it's probably my fault when I collide ungracefully with somebody as they too try to get out. My cheeks burn as I quickly mumble my apologies, before I look up and realise who I'm apologising to.

It's Ed, the popular boy who seems to have been the delivery boy of my secret santa. This realisation makes me blush even harder, until I remember that Ed isn't like most of them. He won't laugh and point and sneer. I'm pretty sure he's one of the only popular people in the school who gained their status simply by being nice, rather than backstabbing and attention seeking.

"Oh, hey Scarlett!" Ed exclaims, as if he's actually really happy to see me. A little part of me hopes that he really is.

"Hi, Ed," I reply, averting my eyes from his smiling face. His cheeks are glowing from the cold air we've stepped out into and his hair is sticking out from underneath a grey beanie.

"Are you by yourself?" Ed asks, but his voice isn't taunting, just curious.

"Yeah," I admit. "My Mum just ditched me for some yoga lady."

Ed laughs, "Same! Well, my friends ditched me to go home but I'm by myself too."

Somehow, half an hour later, Ed and I have ended up in McDonalds. It's odd for me to make friends and even odder for that friend to be popular. Okay, so maybe Ed and I aren't friends as such – not like Imogen and I – but we're currently together in McDonalds and I don't know much about having friends but I know that must count for something.

"So tell me about yourself, Scarlett," Ed says.

I gulp. Where do I begin? It seems like I'm so boring that I either say nothing about myself (the option I usually choose) or talk about every detail of my life.

"Well, uh, I'm from Perth in Australia. We moved at the start of the year after my Dad got a really good job over here. This is my first Christmas over here and it's... weird. Not only is it cold rather than hot, but before I spent this season with my friends, but now... I don't." I don't know why I'm saying this, what point I'm grasping at, but Ed seems intrigued.

"What do you mean?" he asks, chewing on a salty chip then reaching his hand into the cardboard box and picking up a couple more.

"I guess I used to be popular, like you." I wince as I say it and I can tell that Ed doesn't like it either by the way his lips twitch, though he doesn't say anything. "But anyway, when I moved I obviously didn't know anyone. So I became friends with Immy, but that's about it."

"I could introduce you to some of my mates-" Ed begins to offer, but I cut him off.

"No!" I interrupt, too harshly for the situation. "I mean, no thank you, I don't mind being a nobody. The less people you let in the less people who can hurt you, right?" Ed frowns, clearly disagreeing, but again he doesn't try to contradict me.

"Can I be your friend, Scarlett?"

I scoff. As if someone like Ed would choose to be friends with me. But he's staring at me intently, waiting for an answer, so I shrug and tell him yes.

When I ask him why, Ed shrugs.

"Well, you must be pretty cool for someone to go to the effort of doing the whole secret santa thing for you."