Story: Belonging

Since I've been so slack at blogging lately and am still being slack I thought I'd just post a short story I wrote. I'm thinking of doing Flash Fiction like Scott used to do where he'd use his followers as characters. That might get me blogging on a regular basis again. Tell me what you think.
This is a story I wrote a year or so back for an English exam based on the quote “Human beings, like plants, grow in the soil of acceptance, not in the atmosphere of rejection.”

Glen grips my elbow, leading me away from the fire to some place cooler, quieter. Gail is in front of me, looking back at my face, her forehead wrinkled with concern. Gracie runs over in a partial panic, leaving Gareth confused and with empty arms back at the tree they’d been sitting under.

“What’s wrong? What happened” Gracie’s words hurry from her mouth with more urgency than I find necessary.

“She feels sick”

“Did you drink anything?” Gail cuts Glen off to interrogate me. I’m hot, God I’m hot. I think I’m going to throw up. I wish I could just throw up.

“No, I’ve only had the one can of soft drink all night. I brought it myself. I haven’t let it out of my sight.” My palms are so sweaty. I feel so sick. I can’t breath, that’s what’s wrong. I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe. Oh God, I can’t breathe.

Gracie sighs with relief and glances back at Gareth. I haven’t been drugged, it’s not an emergency, she can return to her boyfriend.

Gail’s not so quick to let it go. “Did you eat anything funny?”

Just leave me be. Leave me alone. I don’t want to be here. Leave me alone. Leave me alone. “Only those chips I brought.” Gareth is trying to catch Gracie’s attention; I can see him over Gail’s shoulder.

“Is it your asthma?” Gail just won’t give up. Why can’t she leave me alone?

Glen has led me to a wire fence and I slump down with my back resting against it. Glen does too. “Gracie, I’m fine” I tell her, “Gareth wants you.” She smiles gratefully at me and ducks off towards her boyfriend. He put his arm around her. I want to cry. I want to-

I’m crying. Oh God. I’m already crying. Damp cheeks. Eyes swollen. No wonder they think I must be sick, what other explanation? It’s a fun party, I shouldn’t be crying.

Gail sits down next to me and the words “distract me” escape from my mouth as another wave of nausea hits.

Gail begins to talk straight away, as if she’s been dying to tell me something this whole time. “Do you know what Gillian just tried to pull?” Oh, God. Yes. Yes, I know what Gillian tried. Why else am I in this state? “She and Grant just tried to set me up with Gabe!” Inside I howl in pain. Argh, I feel so pathetic. Gail continues, “As if! He so… I mean, it would never happen. Never.”

Is she trying to make me feel worse? I feel stupid, what’s wrong with me? How could I be in love with this guy my friend is too good for?

I admitted it. There. I admitted it.

I’m in love with Gabe Glover.

“God, Gillian’s just getting ridiculous.” I eventually reply after fractionally calming. “She should deal with her own problematic love-life before messing with others” and screwing up mine.

“Exactly!” Gail jumps to her feet. “I’ve gotta go talk to Gracie” she says, dusting of the back of her jeans, “will you be alright?”

“I’ll be fine.” I tell her.

“Yeah, I’ll stay with her.” Glen says. Gail smiles and walks off. We watch her for a while before Glen turns to me. “What’s wrong?” he asks.

“I’m just a little sick, that’s all.” Just a little sick, yeah right. I want to find that hole everyone’s always talking about, in which I can crawl up in and die.

“Just a little sick, yeah right,” Glen says, “something has upset you.” Glen is as intuitive as always, to bad that is the last thing I want. I don’t want anyone to know. These are just pathetic emotions I need to overcome. I wish my head would stop telling me I’m in love with him. Stupid head, it’s supposed to be logical. Leave this silly stuff to the heart, I never listen to it.

“I’m fine, Glen, nothing is wrong.”

“Com’on Phoebe, something is up, you can talk to me about it, you know you can.” Garg. Why does he have to care? Why can’t he leave me be? When I don’t speak he continues, “I’m your friend, Phoebe, one of your best friends, you can trust me, okay?”

He cares. I know he does. But I can’t tell him, I just… can’t. I need to try to handle this myself first. “Glen, I just… I don’t want to talk about it now, okay?”

He nods, “okay”.

“I just need time.” He asks me if I want him to leave. He’s being so good. I’ve calmed down now. I can breathe. I don’t make him leave. Without saying anything he offers comforting company.

We sit awkwardly in silence for a while as Gabe spins around and around in my head. Eventually Glen stands. “Ready to head back to the fire?” he holds a hand out to me and I nod. “Smile, now” he tells me, and I do. “Whenever you’re ready for that deep and meaningful,” he says, “I’ll be there.” And I know he will.

I put my arm across Glen’s shoulders and grin clumsily. “Thank you.”