3652 Days of Julia

Day One.
Julia’s Perspective.
Sixteen years old.

There was no point in crying as I had already dispersed all the tears that could make any ounce of difference. I wasn’t going back to France and I had to accept that. Even though my home was just across a channel of water, it felt as though I was years away from where I so deeply wanted to be.

I had woken up much too early to do anything productive, so instead I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling with thoughts of anguish invading my mind. I had never started a new school before. I had no friends here. I was so nervous about today that I wanted cry. I missed my father so much it was almost unbearable.

The room I was now living in was plain and bare; my things still packed away in boxes and bags. There was no sense of individuality anywhere. Never did it cross my mind that my mother would actually move to England to be closer to her parents in an attempt to get over the heartache of her divorce, and never did it occur to me that I would have to go with her to such a foreign place. And yet, here I am, in Sheffield, England.

After close to an hour of depressing myself further through thought, I stood up and ruffled through my things until I found some clothes decent enough for the weather outside and the environment of school. I sat on the edge of my bed until the alarm I set went off, and slowly I headed toward my bathroom to get ready.

I went downstairs to the kitchen and made myself some breakfast, heading back up the stairs with the bowl of cereal I had made. When in the safety of my room, I closed the door behind me, and sat on the sill of my window, opening the curtains and looking out onto the dark morning that greeted me through the glass.

The scene in front of me was so boring and average compared to the view from my old bedroom that again I felt the infuriating urge to sob all over again. I sniffed and leant against the window with more pressure, closing my eyes momentarily. When I opened them again, something in the window opposite mine caught my gaze. Through the flimsy curtains that were almost identical to my own, I saw a face looking over at me. I leaned closer to the glass, watching as two fingers slid the curtains back from the window. I was greeted with a boy’s face. He was about the same age as me, he was only wearing black skinny jeans, and from where I was I could see the posters on his walls of bands I adored. Feeling suddenly awkward in his stare, I turned around and left the window, utterly embarrassed and slightly surprised.

“Julia! Come on, it’s almost time to leave!” My mother called from downstairs, her keys jangling as she picked them up.

I brushed my teeth and grabbed my bag, kissing my mother on the cheek as I passed her on my way to the car. I sat beside her as she drove me to school, my heart sinking as I recognised the familiar black glasses that covered a portion of her face. She always wore them when her eyes were too puffy to be shown in public, or when she was unable to cease her crying.

I left the car once I arrived at school, and stayed standing on the pavement as I watched my mother drive away from me with hardly saying goodbye. I had barely heard her talk since we arrived.

I closed my eyes again as I stayed on the pavement, shocked by the image that flashed into my thoughts. The boy in the window! I opened my eyes quickly, confused by why I had pictured him, when I jumped at the sight of a group of boys and a few girls walking toward me. They were laughing and shoving each other playfully as they approached me. My chest restricted and my heart jumped a beat as I looked shyly upon the boy I had seen this morning, only now he was wearing a shirt and jumper. He looked up and spotted me staring, and I watched as his face shone with recognition. A small smile appeared on his lips and he came closer to me. I didn’t know what to do. Would he talk to me? Should I smile or wave?

He passed me with his friends, and it was like he’d never seen me before, beside the fact that he turned to look at me again before entering the building. I swallowed, feeling stupid yet again. I felt my cheeks become hot under the embarrassment I felt. I was too shy for my own good; my friends always told me so. My friends. I wonder what they were doing back in France right now.

I entered the school and followed directions off signs to get to the office. I had five minutes before I had to be in my first class. The whole time I was walking down the corridors, I was silently praying I would come across the boy from next door. Something about him already had me transfixed, and I didn’t even know his name.

“Hi, how can I help you dear?” The lady at the office said to me as she saw me at the window.

“Hello, umm I am new here and I have no idea what to do.”

She chuckled, “what’s your name?”

“Julia Prince.” I said, smiling at her kindness.

I watched as she typed some things into the computer, and suddenly she had numerous pieces of paper in her hand. She passed them to me and they were still warm from being printed.

“These are you classes, and this is a map of the school, and this is your locker number and code to your lock.” She stated, handing me a heavy, but small cardboard box. “Follow me, love, and I’ll show you to your locker and first class.”

I followed her down the corridors, my heart soaring with hope every time I turned around a new corner. I didn’t see him all morning.
_____________________________________________________________

When I arrived home later that day, exhausted from the awkward day I had just been through, I ran straight up into my room and to my window. Hope flooded through me as I pulled my curtains back, only to be greeted with nothing. The curtains in his room were open, and I retreated to sitting on my bed, my bag at my feet. I couldn’t allow myself to dwell in the past by sitting, reflecting on France and how different everything was here. No, instead, I stood up and began opening my boxes, sorting out my clothes into piles and putting them away. I got some sticky tape from my bag and began placing my posters of Breaking Benjamin, Three Days Grace, Marilyn Manson and the like on the walls in an attempt to make it feel more like home. When I was finished, my mother had already arrived home, which meant I had spent hours unpacking. I went downstairs as I was called for dinner.

“How was your day?” My mother asked as I sat opposite her at the table.

“It was okay,” I replied. “A little weird, but it was alright.”

“Did you make any friends?” She enquired, sipping on some water.

“Umm, not really.” I said, and I felt a blush creep up my cheeks as I pictured the window-boy. My mother was too dejected to notice, and I stood up, clearing my plate and heading off to my room.

I switched on my stereo, and immediately my ears filled with music. I started to relax, and sat down on my bed to complete my homework, all the while ignoring my window, too scared to look in case I was met with an empty room on the other side again.

Somewhere between working out the Pythagoras theory and simplifying surds, I gave in, and turned my head to the left. My breath caught in my chest. He was watching me. He was sitting in his window sill like I was this morning, looking at me. I felt my cheeks grow hot again, and my hands become sweaty. I didn’t know what to do. After holding sufficiently awkward eye contact that lasted for what seemed like hours, he held up an exercise book to the window, and I could barely make out the words scribbled in permanent marker on the page. I got up from my bed, carrying my workbook and pen as I read the note.

Who are you? It read.

Julia Prince, I responded, who are you?

Oli Sykes. Obviously we live next door. I saw you at my school today. Where are you from?

I have just moved here from France.

I like your music.

Thank you. I suddenly didn’t know what else to say.

Walk to school with me and my friends tomorrow?

This can’t be happening! I was sure my face looked like a bigger version of a tomato, and no matter how much I was worrying about making an idiot out of myself, I knew I couldn’t pass down an opportunity like this one.

Okay. I wrote.

I’ll be out the front at 8.30.

With that I looked up at his face and returned his smile, standing up and walking to my bathroom to get ready for bed. As I lay there thinking before I surrendered to the action of sleep, I couldn’t help but wonder why I felt so strongly about someone I didn’t know.

Maybe I’d find out tomorrow.