Stories from the Back of His Motorcycle

I held the grade in my hand, carving the ‘A’ with my eyes as if it would suddenly mean something that way. I shifted in the seat, peeling my skin from the faux leather. Delia’s car was stuffy at best but, since it was already quite warm outside, the boundary between uncomfortable and downright oppressive was beginning to be crossed.

“You going to tell me what’s on your mind then?” I turned my gaze to Delia, taking in the way she clutched the steering wheel as if to break it and remembering the glassy veil that had hid her eyes all day.

“Hmm?” her voice wasn’t the high pitched level I was used to. It was tight, rough, and obviously hiding something.

“Don’t play dumb Delia, I know you too well for you to pull the ‘everything’s fine’ crap.” I was probably a bit snappier than necessary due to the tidal wave of stress convulsing my insides. I had three papers due for next week, a tedious gorgeous Vaughn Hart wearing down my defences, two parents who didn’t know when to stop shouting in the middle of the night, and a possible double-shift at the coffee shop that Saturday. I wondered if Delia knew me well enough to sense this or if she just put it down to my nature.

“Okay,” she blew a strand of blonde hair away from her face. I relaxed back into my seat, my hands subconsciously twitching from not having the control of the wheel. She drove into a small parking lot outside some convenience store, the dull flashing of its sign washed out by the sunshine. We were only a few minutes from my house now but, by the look on Delia’s face, it would take me a lot longer today.

“Josh broke up with me,” her voice was steady but her face was already screwed up. It should have come as a shock. Any nice, normal friend would have looked stunned as if their very foundations about love, which had been based off of Josh and Delia, didn’t make sense anymore. As if their very theory on love was flawed. But I, ever the pessimist, already knew that.

“Delia, sweetheart,” I crooned “he’s not worth this. Why would he break up with a girl like you? He must be crazy.” The rehearsed words flew off my tongue.

“No, he thinks I’m too immature. Just because I got drunk the other night and he didn’t – it’s not like he didn’t know I was younger than him by two years anyway. He’s such a jerk!” Her wracking sobs had started.

I hated myself for feeling a small satisfaction that arose from Delia’s breakup. It was as if the world made sense again, levelling out the playing field between us. She would have more time for me now.

I hated myself even more for thinking such thoughts when holding her across the gearstick. The discomfort of it was punishment for being such an abominable friend.

But this was always the way with Delia. She fell quickly in and out of love, be it because she was dumped or had already fallen for someone else. I always felt sorry for the guys who got left behind in her rampant stampede for this ‘love’. Even for Josh who had just broken my best friend’s heart, Delia was a lot to handle especially after four consecutive months.

“And you know the worst part,” Delia spluttered and pulled her head “is that he’s in love with someone else. I can see it in his eyes. He’s not been the same this last week and, ever since the party, it’s been even worse. Yet he hasn’t got the balls to just tell me so he dishes this immature crap instead,” she ranted.

That was a first. Delia was being dumped for another girl. She had to be something really special to even hold a candle to Delia in either beauty or intelligence. She probably was very mature though.

“He’s an idiot,” I repeated a few times.

“I know, right? I don’t know what I even saw in him.”

I held her hand for a few peaceful seconds before the tears started all over again. I loved Delia dearly, more than anyone else, but she was draining. She took and took but never thought to give back. That was the problem with stupidly smart people; they just saw the facts and thought they knew everything. Delia saw my nonchalant face and didn’t think to ask if I was okay. I was breaking and she didn’t even know.



“Vaughn Hart and Alice Thornberry?” someone in the hallway had obviously not learnt the art of subtlety or voice control. I heard the murmurings follow me as I walked determinedly to English with a still fragile Delia trailing behind.

“Are you sure you’re up to this?” I asked her, turning my head back to take in her splotchy complexion and already smudged makeup. It was always safe with Delia to ask careful questions, if she was going to cry she usually did it pretty quickly.

“I’m fine. I’m not going to let some douche ruin my entire week.”

I was tired from spending most of the night on the phone with a distraught Delia, but I didn’t let it show. I painted another smile on my face; one which I hoped was encouraging, and entered the classroom.

“Hey,” a voice startled me. I focused on Vaughn from where he was perched on the edge of our desk – watching me with a certain unreadable glint in those eyes. I didn’t trust it.

“Hello,” I gave Delia’s hand one last comforting squeeze before taking the seat two rows in front.

“You hear the rumours going around this morning?” He looked down at me, his torso blocking out the board. Miss Rigeti was late and no work was set so I had no choice but to lean back and meet his gaze.

“Not really.”

“About you and me. Apparently we’re the school’s new hottest couple.”

“Great,” I muttered sarcastically.

“Almost all of the girls want to kill you out of jealousy,” he smirked darkly “and all of the guys are looking at you with renewed reawakened eyes. I wouldn’t be surprised if you got asked out at least four times by the weekend.”

I opened my text book, trying to send him the silent message to just stop talking. I didn’t need any of that extra drama, I didn’t want to be envied and I certainly didn’t want to be asked out.

“Don’t worry though Alice, I’ll scare off all competition,” his smirk had gotten so big I was surprised it didn’t devour his entire beautiful face. Reluctantly, I looked back up at him.

“You could always set everyone straight, you know… tell them the truth?”

“Where would be the fun in that Alice? Don’t you want to stir up this boring high-school?”

“No, I want to make it through this boring high-school.”

“That’s the problem with your attitude Alice,” he seemed to keep smiling at the use of my name, as if it were funny. “You can’t see the fun in the detail.”

“And you,” I jabbed him lightly in the leg “can’t see the bigger picture.”

Vaughn grumbled before slipping off the desk and rounding past me into the chair.
Seconds later Miss Rigeti darkened the doorway with her overpowering beam. It never ceased to amaze me how Vaughn seemed to have a sixth sense for avoiding punishment.

Work. That was what I needed. And when Miss Rigeti set out more than humanly possible for the last fifty one minutes of the lesson I jumped straight into it. That was until Vaughn thought he would distract me with a foot brushed up against my own. In surprise, I jumped a few inches off my chair and felt my face burn as a consequence.

“What are you doing?” I hissed.

“Playing footsie,” he was smirking again “that girl over there is watching us so I thought we’d give her a show.”

I turned as discreetly as possible to catch Hannah Richards’s eyes flicker from us to the uncompleted worksheet in front of her. This rumour thing was already proving to be a pain.

“Well don’t,” I turned back to him, trying to keep my blush down as his foot traced mine again.

“Is it making you uncomfortable?” he whispered. I didn’t answer. “Are the rumours making you uncomfortable?” I didn’t answer. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” His leg brushed against my own in a movement which was definitely not accidental.

“Vaughn,” I hissed angrily “if you don’t stop then I-.” I was cut off by the sudden sobbing from two rows back. Instantly I was on my feet, hustling Delia outside, making some lame excuse to cover our tracks. She cried heavily into my shoulder as I half carried her to the bathrooms.

“I miss him so much,” she whimpered. I didn’t point out that it had only been one day or that the feelings of supposed loss were actually probably just indigestion or stress. Poor Delia didn’t know a thing about real pain, and I was on a mission to keep it that way.

“I know honey,” I always used noncommittal names when she was upset “but it’ll get better. You’ll find another boy. What about Derek from science, he’s had a crush on you for years now?” This was the best therapy. Dangle another object in front of her to blindly run to.

“It’s alright for you Alice, you have Vaughn Hart,” she muttered sadly.

I spluttered in disbelief. “Please tell me you don’t actually believe all that crap.”

Delia shook her head “I don’t believe the rumours that you and he did ‘it’ in the bushes outside your house or that Vaughn proposed to you.” I choked harder at that. Both from the ridiculous lies that were currently being regurgitated across the school and the fact that Delia had said “did ‘it’” like we were back in middle school.

“But I see the way he looks at you,” Delia continued “it doesn’t take a fool to work out his feelings.” I rolled my eyes at her and her strangely compulsive ideas of love and romance.

“Sure Delia.”

“And you’re even worse,” she sniffled “you try so hard to pretend that you can’t stand him when actually you’re more head-over-heels than even he is.”

How come she tried to analyse me for non existent love but never thought to ask if I was actually okay? “I don’t pretend Delia. I really can’t stand him – I’m not that good an actress.”

“You’re right,” she was dabbing at her eyes in front of the grimy mirrors. I watched her compose herself into the beautiful girl I knew and loved before walking towards the exit. “You’re not that good an actress.”