Chapter 1:
                                          
In life I suppose no one is thrown a perfect pack of cards. Take me for instance, I have a good home life, I have a pretty good set of grades from school and I’m not invisible enough in school to be sat on. But, I’m in love with a boy who doesn’t even know I exist, well not in that way anyway. I just don’t have that sexy thing that other girls have. Pouty lips and big boobs, or hair that sits and doesn’t look like a hurricane has hit it.

The bigger problem is, this boy is one of my friends. A very close friend. His name is Jack Rothwell and I’ve known him since we were kids. We’re neighbours and I seem to see him more than I see my own dad. My mum is forever inviting him over for dinner. He’s always happy to come over, he says my mums cooking is much better than his and Mum leaves the room when he is over looking all happy that she has one over on Karen Rothwell.

To be honest Jack hasn’t had the easiest time with his family. His dad died from pancreatic cancer when he was only 13. James Rothwell had became alcoholic when his wife-Karen- left him for a man they had met at a new years party. He had been quite the binge drinker in his youth too and the damage he did was irreparable. Jack convinced his dad to stop drinking a week before he died. He stayed by his dad’s bed the whole time. He later told me that it was the best week he had with his dad because they believed he could get better with some new treatment that sadly started the day after he had died. He said his dad told him lots of stories about his childhood. James slipped away in his sleep.

My mum and me looked after Jack for 3 days until his mum came back from her fling. Jack blamed his mother for his fathers death. He hated his mother.

After that time Jack looked upon us as his real family. He would spend Christmas and new year with us. Karen continued to have short relationships with other men and when Jack would come home at night all they would do was argue. Jack began getting in fights at school with people calling his father a “drunk” or his mother a “slut”. We helped him as much as we could, but he was a free spirit and he would come and go.

Jack’s major passion has always been music, and he’s good at it. He plays guitar and sings a little. His mother disapproves of it, says its just noise and complains about how he ought to find a “real career”.

I couldn’t have a more different opinion, there’s nothing I love better than listening to him play. My mum bought him an extra Amp one year to stick in my room because she used to watch Jack struggle with it, lugging it from his house - to mine - then up the stairs, because he badly wanted me to hear his “latest masterpiece”.

I remember one time when I was 14 and Jack was 15, I was feeling really upset because my dad wouldn’t be back for Christmas ( He had a busy job which meant he was always flying to different countries at shitty times of the year) Jack wrote me a song as a Christmas present. I remember watching him, he seemed so amazing to me at that moment.

Guitar in hand, he sat down near my window, where the glare from the window cast an orange light onto his golden skin and his eyes. The sun seemed to be shining out his dark blue eyes. In his mouth he had a guitar pick and I watched him as he concentrated on the guitar. Flipping his hair out of his eyes every couple of minutes, but lightly, effortlessly.

“Wow.” I thought.


I don’t know exactly when I began loving him. I just know that I did.

If I could pick out a moment, that things seemed to change. I’d have to say when he ran away.

His mum had been seeing a man called Marc who was violent towards Jack. He was fat and sat around the house smoking, drinking and watching TV. Marc came from a well known family, well known for all the wrong reasons. A history of killers, robbers and general psychosis ran in his family.
“ Get me a beer, boy.” Marc shouted at Jack as he entered the room.

Jack gave him a dirty look, Marc was sitting in his dad’s old chair.

“Who the fuck do you think you are looking at?” Marc shouted drunkenly.
“ A fucking Tosser.” Jack said lowly.

“What’s that?” Marc exclaimed.

“Nothing.” Jack said and picked up his school books from the coffee table.

“ Get me a fucking beer.” Marc said and grabbed onto the bottom of Jack’s top.

“ Get the fuck out of my Dad’s chair.” Jack shouted. “You’re not my dad…I’m not doing anything for you”

“You’ll do what I say!” Marc said and stood up. Squaring off to Jack.

Jack wasn’t afraid, I’d always admired him for his guts.

“ Is that right?” Jack said.

“Yeah!” Marc said, he turned to look at the door and then head butted Jack who was knocked to the floor. Blood pouring from his nose.

“Fucking dick.” Jack said with difficulty, wiping the blood from his nose. His head was spinning and he lay on the ground trying to get his bearings.

His mother emerged from the other room, beer in one hand.

Karen Rothwell had always been a pretty woman, but after James’ death she had began to look, well, not well kept. Her roots showed clearly through her bleach blonde hair and very small dark circles had began to appear under her eyes. She would often leave the house in her pyjamas to which my mum would make rude comments. My mum very much disliked Karen not only because of the way she treated Jack, but because she would often see my dad staring at her. Karen liked to wear low cut dressed and tank tops and my dad was supposedly forever looking at her chest, or maybe my mum was just paranoid. I didn’t see what was so great about her, but she did have lovely eyes, eyes like Jack.

Jack got up and walked towards her staggering.

“What’s happened?” she said

“ We had a misunderstanding.” Marc said not moving his eyes from the TV.

Little trickles of blood were dripping onto the floor.

“Baby, you’re bleeding.” She began and walked towards Jack.

“No shit.” He said and pushed out her way into the kitchen.

Karen followed him.

Jack walked around to the cupboard and took out a small white towel. He held it under his nose. His head was aching.
“Where the fuck is the fucking ice.” he said shoving things out of the fridge.

“I’ll get it.” Karen said.

She took 4 ice cubes out of the freezer and wrapped them up in a stripped kitchen towel.

“Hold that to your nose. It looks swollen.”

“No fucking wonder! Mum. What the fuck is he doing here?” Jack shouted.

His mum looked worried that Marc would hear and shut the kitchen door.

“ I’m seeing him baby.” She said simply and began cutting up carrots that were lying on the table beside her.
“So that’s it is it. You let them come into my dad’s house, sit in my dad’s chair, Screw my dad’s wife…”

“Hey! That’s enough” Karen shouted.

“…beat my dad’s son.”
“You made him angry” Karen said lowly, defending him.

“Oh and that’s ok is it?”

“ I’m going through a hard time now Jack.”

“You are always going through a hard time mum! These men aren’t my dad! They will never take the place of my dad and forcing them into my life wont change that”
“You still blame me for that don’t you. How many times do I have to tell you, I’m sorry. I’m not perfect Jack. Jesus! The way you carry on you’d think I was supposed to be a nun or something.”

Jack‘s nose was bleeding less heavy now. He took the cloth from his nose.
“If you hadn’t left, Dad wouldn’t have started drinking again, he loved you mum, and you left him! Till death do us part ring ANY bells?”

“ I couldn’t stay Jack.”

“ Yeah so you keep telling me. Running away from every problem. You could have came back, you could have sorted things out, you could have tried. You didn’t want to. You just wanted to open your legs to whatever random man would take you!”

“ Maybe I did! So what? It was better than being stuck with a man who had turned cold and callous and paid no attention to me. Your father was dead long before the drink killed him.”

“ I hate you! You are nothing but…a whore.”

“ You ungrateful little bastard! I wish I’d never given birth to you.”

There was silence in the room. Jack began to walk towards the door. He paused for a moment, and looked at his mother- who’s back was to him.

“ I wish I hadn’t been born.” he said softly and drudged back upstairs to his room. He kicked his door and threw things around his room before crumbling in a heap with his head in his hands on the floor.

I couldn’t tell you what was going through his head at this point.

All I know is how ironic it was that he ran off just as he had shouted at his mother for doing. He packed a bag with a few shirts and things he thought he‘d need and stuck his most prized possession - his guitar - in its case and shoved it on his back. He took a roll of money from under his bed, he had been saving here and there for the past 4 years and had about £200 pounds. He didn’t know where he was going. He just knew he was going to get as far from there as possible.

He threw his bag out of the window of his room and shimmied down the drain pipe on the wall outside his window.

He was gone for 3 days, and his mum had come to us “worried”. I cant tell you how pissed off I was that she hadn’t came to us sooner. I was so afraid of what could have happened to him.
We phoned the police and within a day they had found him, lying in some dark alley cold and wet. His money had been stolen.

They brought him home in a police car. He looked pretty rough, and smelled awful but I didn’t care. I saw the car from my window and raced outside. I stopped to look at him for a minute. His eyes were dark from lack of sleep. His hair was wet from the rain and his nose was still slightly bruised, but he was fine. My heart skipped a beat as he emerged from the car. I ran towards him and he walked forward, his smile taking away all my worries. I threw myself onto him and hugged him like I never had before. It felt different. I never wanted to let go. I had a strange feeling in the pit of my stomach. When we broke from the hug, he looked at me for a lifetime. His eyes scanned my face like a child fascinated by a new toy. For a moment I thought he was going to kiss me.

“ I missed you so much Erica.” He said and pulled me into another hug.

In that moment I knew, my feelings were stronger than I had originally thought. Then he said something that could have possibly killed the moment forever.

“ I Love you Erica, You’re like my sister.”

The police came to talk to Karen and told her if Jack ran away again they would think about Child protection taking him out of the household. That was enough to make Jack never want to do that again. As much as he hated his home life, being carted off for adoption or foster care was something he considered worse than death.

During the weeks that followed, I tried to get up the confidence to ask him if he ever thought about me- in that way. So I tried to slip in some hints. But being a bit dim on that side of thing he didn’t catch on at all. So I’d just have to come out with it.

We were sitting in my room watching some crappy Japanese horror film and eating pizza when I turned to Jack. I was watching him watching the film. He would pause before he smiled. When he laughed or smiled, he glowed and when he glowed, so did I.

He turned around.

I was still staring at his mouth.

“ Erica, you thinking about kissing me or something.” He said joking.

I looked up at him shocked.

“No.. Uh.. You have some cheese.. On .. Ur lip.”

“Ah shit, really?” Jack said and wiped his lips frantically. “is it off?”

“Yeah.”
“ Cool.” He said and turned back to the TV


“Jack, I’m cold.”
I was hoping he would put his arm around me. He always used to do this when we were younger. When it meant nothing, like he was a big brother or something.

He used to hug me when I went over on my bike, when my dad would have to leave for his business trips, when I was disappointed or just for no reason at all.

He smiled at me and then put his arm around my shoulder.

“Just like old times.” He said happily, tapping his fingers on my shoulder.

I leaned in a little more, so that I was hugging his body. We seemed like a Jigsaw. To me, I seemed to fit in so perfectly, merge in, absorb into him. I loved to feel his warm chest on mine, and feel it rise and fall beside me. To be this close to him felt normal, felt right.

I cleared my throat.

“Jack, can I ask you something?”

“Fire away.” he said, half listening.

“Do you like anyone, you know, at the moment.”

“What like in a crush way?” He asked

“Yeah.” I said.

“Well sort of , but I cant say.”

“Why not?” I said suddenly becoming interested.

“You’d have reason to hate me, if anything happened, and it would possibly ruin our friendship.”

I began to get very excited and felt a mix of smile and embarrassment rise in my face.

“Oh no go on! I promise not to be a bitch. Scouts honour.” I laughed.

“Ok then, I’m going to hold you to that. I really like Sinead Simpson.”

I moved away from his body and looked up at him, startled.

Sinead Simpson had been one of my enemies since I’d started high school and Jack knew all about it. A pretty blonde, with green eyes, a large chest and a rebellious streak. She never liked me, for reasons unknown to myself. She made it her lives ambition to make my life a living hell. I moved to my current high school 6 months into the school year, when people had already made friends and formed cliques. So like many people who have been in my situation I came into the school not knowing who to and who not to talk to.

The only friend at school I had really was Jack and we were in different year classes. Sinead was part of the “popular” group in my school and told all the girls at school that I was a “big lesbian” and that my dad was a “male striper” both of which the populars’ (ALSO MY ENTIRE YEAR) believed and I was avoided like the plague. Not to mention her snide comments towards me for the next few years about how I looked or how I wore my hair. I’m totally different to her, Brown hair, blue eyes, slim and practically no chest. I wasn’t a threat to her but I suppose some people just have to find someone who’s life they can make unbearable.

“Sinead Simpson?” I repeated “Why?”

Jack sat up properly.

“Well I’ve been emailing her recently, she’s actually a lot nicer than she seems. We have a lot in common, plus she is pretty good looking.”

“ Does she like you?”

“Yeah. We are supposed to be going to the cinema this weekend.”

I felt like my world had been flipped on its side.

Sinead the girl who had my life a LIVING HELL was going to be seeing MY Jack. I didn’t like that, not at all!

“Wow, didn’t take you for the vain type.” I said and pretended to be engrossed in the movie that I had been ignoring for the past hour.

“What do you mean?”

“Well, blonde hair, big boobs, party girl. Why not go for a girl like Emily Braff.

Emily Braff was a well rounded Brunette, with buck teeth and monobrow. She wore glasses and very plain clothes and kept to her own places, very secluded, quite weird. I thought this was a good date because then it was less likely that Jack would be attracted to her- or see her again.

“Emily Braff, you are not serious.” Jack laughed. “ I doubt anything will come of it anyway, I’m just Gonna see if me and Sinead click at all. Also If anything does happen I will be your slave for a week, clean your room, do your chores etc.”

“Ok then.” I said naively.

If you were wondering, they did click. They clicked all over Sinead’s bed.

I was heartbroken when I found out. Jack never became my “slave” for a week either. As the months piled in me and my mum saw Jack less and less. He was too busy at Sinead’s. She lived with her Grandparents and they would let Jack sleepover in the same bed as Sinead. I couldn’t think about what they were doing those nights, it made me sick to my stomach. I waited around diligently for Jack but whenever he came over he would leave suddenly after seeing mystery texts from Sinead.

A year down the line they are still together. Me and Jack are still close but its not the same. I’m now 16 and Jack is 17. His mum has become a little less promiscuous - which Jack is happy about .When he isn’t out getting drunk, smoking and having sex, he’s at home playing on his guitar. He’s formed a band with one of his friends and he plans to leave for London in a year and bring Sinead with him, hoping he will maybe get signed by some big label. Living the dream I suppose. I keep my window open in the hopes of hearing him, but I feel I’ve lost even that little privilege.

I’m just the same as I’ve always been. Studying for my exams and worrying about Jack. I think about him all the time. Things at home have been difficult. My dad got a promotion, so now he is the head of his department, which means even MORE leaving the country for months at a time. My mum isn’t coping too badly, but I can see its beginning to take a toll.