better go take a bath. I'm steaming up the computer monitor.
Before I go, I wanted to remind you to tell me what's going on with you. I know I've been kind of focused on my life in hell, but I want to know what's happening to you, as well. I can't believe you haven't left the house for five whole days. You must be going mad. Tell all.
Hugs and kisses,
~Em
Subject: Re: What about Liam Hemsworth, hmmm?
From: [email protected]
Date: 4 September 6:13 pm
think you're right after all. If he saw you in sweats yesterday, you'll want to show him that don't look like a slob all of the time. I think the batik skirt and halter will say just what you want it to say.
I looked fabulous!
Tell me everything, EVERYTHING about the date!
It was fabulous!
Tell me what he said!
He was fabulous!
And be sure to tell me if he tries to kiss you!
Well, he wasn't that fabulous.
There's nothing going on here, I can't go anywhere until the cast is off. Just keep telling me what's happening to you. And tell me more about Aidan!
I can't believe nothing is happening—even with a broken leg you can cause endless trouble—but since you're probably going stir-crazy and need distracting so you don't stick a coat hanger down your cast, I'll spill. Yes, everything, despite the slob comment. You're just insanely jealous of my fabulous date with Aidan.
He picked me up in his dad's car (which explained the scent of Old that permeated everything) and drove to greater downtown POTW, which, as I mentioned, basically consists of two streets. He parked near a bank, and we trotted down the street, stopping at a couple of the cool shops. As I said before, there aren't very many!
Once we had done thatand looked at the sights (an old church, a graveyard, and a post thingy that some king put up a long time ago), Aidan asked me if I'd like to stop by the local for a butty.
“Local what?” I asked, wondering if a butty was like a botty. Yes, Dru, only in England will you find that even the smallest town has a local butt shop.
“Pub,” he said.
“Cool!” I said. Unfortunately, this weird country allows you in a pub if you're not eighteen, but they won't let you drink. You have to buy food. Even so, Aidan managed to get us shandies, which is kind of like a real drink—it's half beer and half fizzy lemonade. I'm not sure if we were allowed to drink them or not, but I didn't want to look like a boob and ask Aidan. To be honest, it wasn't very good, but you know me, I am ever coolio, so I drank it. Aidan also bought us each a sandwich, which for some reason is called a butty here—I will never understand these people. He told me about what he's going to be studying this year, and just when he asked me what I did back home, a couple of his friends rolled up.
“Those are my mates,” he said, waving his sandwich/butty at two guys. I gave them the eye (you know the old saying: one hunk is good, but three are better). One of them was very tall, with dark brown hair and brown puppy-dog eyes, and the other was blue-eyed and had really short black hair with very cool blond tips on the ends.
“That's Fang,” Aidan said, pointing at the tall puppy-dog guy, “and Devon. This is Emily. She's going to Gob-botty this year. Her dad's a visiting scholar.”
“Poor lass,” Devon said, twirling a chair around and sitting down with the back to his front. It was such a smooth move! I gave him my very best smile, and prayed there was no bit of butty on my teeth. “I wouldn't wish Gob-botty on anyone. In the sixth form then, are you?”
Why did everyone have to ask me that?
“I should be,” I answered, putting my martyred look on. “But my dad’s an idiot and he signed me up for the fifth form.”
Devon grimaced and stole a potato chip from my plate (oh, wait, they're called crisps here. Like they couldn't just say potato chip?), giving me a completely heart-stopping grin as he did. “Don't mind, do you? I'm a bit fagged. Here, Fang, get us a pint.”
OHMIGOD! He just called himself a...no, I must have heard him wrong. Fang, who had just sat down, got up again and went to the bar.
“What's up, Aid?” Devon asked, stealing another chip.