If You Run

It was a snowy Monday as I walked around the nearest Morrisons, my bag dangling from my shoulder, my hair straight, yet somewhat slightly tangled, and the top of my head being warmed up by the soft texture of my knitted hat, my expression unimpressed as my eyes scanned the toiletries on the shelf. After minutes of trying to decide what not to buy, I left it, and began to shuffle towards the counters, my eyebrows furrowing. Was this place for real? They had began to play Kyle Minogue, and my brain was not in the mood for her.

What made it worse, was that I never, ever shopped at Morrisons. Maybe I did when I was a few years younger, but it had gotten to the point where it was embarrassing to be seen in there. However, for some reason, here I was, walking towards one of the tills with a plastic carrier dangling from my wrist, filled with sweets and chocolate and fizzy drinks. What? I’d like to gain a little weight, you know.

Upon placing the contents of my carrier onto the till, I moved to the end and blinked at the woman who sat behind it. She looked like she’d just left the circus; she had a ton of make-up on, her hair was most definitely covered in hairspray, and she smelt of fish. When she grinned at me, it was quite freaky, because she looked like Gretchen from Recess on the Disney Channel. Yes, I’m definitely not ashamed to say I still watch that.

Suddenly, though, she laughed, and it was so high-pitched, that I jumped, absently. “Hello,” she giggled, annoyingly. I could feel my eyes widen, more with worry than fright. “How’re you?” she asked, her voice still so high, and her giggle still so annoying. She then opened her mouth to speak again, but I held up my hands, shaking my head.

“I’m fine.” I told her, my eyes still wide with worry. “What - this relationship has gone way beyond it’s perimeters, already.” I muttered, and I shook my head when she opened her mouth, again. This, was another reason why I had stopped shopping in Morrisons. This woman. She began scanning the crap I had intended on buying and placed it all in bags for me, though continuing to stare at me with that creepy grin. “I can’t get involved with all the murders you need to commit to get this shit out of your system.”

The woman just laughed - again, annoyingly - and took my credit card. After I typed in my pin number, she giggled, and I was worried she had been peering over at my fingertips. I stared at her, and frowned for a moment, taking my credit card back and picking up the bags that contained my bought items. “Please go and do something you enjoy, soon, before you kill everybody with a label gun.” And with that, I turned, and left Morrisons, faster than I had arrived.

Do you know what my problem is? I hate the human species. They are annoying, cruel and selfish, and I certainly include myself when I say that. You see, my name’s Alice, and I model. That’s my job. I stand for hours upon hours, tilting my head and rotating my hips to lean my weight around on each leg every so often, and to be honest, it’s shit. Sure, so my face appears on magazines a few times, or on big billboards, or even on bands’ websites when I model for their merch, but to be honest, it wasn’t ‘all that’. I don’t live like a movie star, nor do I act like one. I own a small, cosy flat in Surrey, and not even a car; I tend to grab a bus or a taxi, or, better yet, I just walk.

I’m rude, I smoke, I drink alcohol and I usually tell my flatmate, or my cousin, whom I’m quite close with, that I’m better off without a boyfriend. I’m independent - always have been, always will be. I’m difficult. Anyone, in their right mind, would not even consider asking me out on a date, and I’m fine with that.

To be completely honest, I think it’s because of my job that I’m disappointed; I started modelling at the age of 17, and now, I’m 19. And still, no real commitments, no real money - nothing. I guess I expected more, and that is why I think I’m so heartless. But when I say I’m heartless, I don’t mean I bitch about every single person - I’m just not into socialising, because every time I do, something always goes wrong.

It took me about 10 minutes to get home, and that was only because of all the snow and ice. When I did get home, I was greeted by my dog, Sharpie. Don’t begin to question, because I’ll tell you. She’s a puppy, to be honest, medium height, nicely built. She’s a Shar Pei, all wrinkly and brown with big brown eyes. I thought it would’ve been quite witty to swap the letters around and instead of Shar Pei, call her Sharpie. Clever, I thought.

Her curled tail wagged back and forth, side to side, and she stood up on her back legs, her front paws resting on my hip as she barked, happily, her purple tongue rolling out in an attempt to try and lick my hand, though I moved it so she couldn’t.

“’ello, beautiful!” I squealed, which made her tail wag even more. I put my bags down and cupped her wrinkly face, kissing her head. “Want something to eat?” I giggled, watching as she got down and trotted into the kitchen, eagerly awaiting her food as she sat by her bowl.

I laughed at this and picked up my bags, putting my hand bag on the sofa, and bringing my shopping bags into the kitchen. I put the food and drinks I had bought, away, and then gave Sharpie her food, which she immediately dug into. And whilst she was enjoying her dinner, my smile had seemed to fade when I saw a note, ‘underlined’ by Tina. Tina, was my flatmate. She was the kind of girl that annoyed you quickly. Or, annoyed me quickly. I picked up the note and read it, out loud, as if stressing to my puppy.

“She’s put, Sharpie,” I started, then began to read the note. “We’re out of coffee. Don’t mean to make a big deal about it, but it was mine, because it was on my shelf, and it was taken from there. So, if anybody feels as replacing it at anytime, that would be okay with me.

Underlined, Tina.

Oh, and please remember to leave the bins out in the bin-leaving-out area, which is marked, ‘Bins’.”

I stopped, and stared at the note, just reading over it one last time, before glancing at my puppy. She was too busy eating, still, so I rolled my eyes and put the note down, picking up a pen and flipping it over, onto the plain side, which had been fortunate enough not to have been written on, until now.

However, before I could write my reply, my mobile had began ringing from the sofa, a few feet away, in the living room. I let out a sigh and turned, walking towards the sofa. Reaching in, I took out my phone and answered it, without looking at the caller ID.

“Hello?”

“Alice, dear!” squealed my lovely cousin, Max. Max Helyer. He’s the guitarist in his band, You Me At Six, and what an amazing little guitarist he is.

I smiled when I heard him, and licked over my lips. “Max Helyerayeralerbeyer.” I said, slowly.

Laughing, my cousin continued, although I could hear a few familiar voices in the background. “Listen, Alice, the band are having a party at the hall down the road from mine, you know the one,” he spoke fast, and I just blinked. “And we want to invite you. It’s a celebration for the release of Hold Me Down, the new album.”

I twisted my mouth to the side, and glanced at Sharpie, shaking my head. “Max, I’d rather not.” I told him. Now, it wasn’t that I didn’t like parties, because I usually loved them, but being around Joshua Franceschi for too long made me feel like taking a few rocks and throwing them at his crotch until he couldn’t reproduce, or just using my own foot. Either way, his balls would no longer work.

And it wasn’t because he was mean to me, or anyone, because he wasn’t a mean person, and that’s just it. See, when I was little, me and Max used to live across the street from each other, and he used to attend school with Josh. They’ve known each other since forever, and it was only natural for me to grow a little soft spot for the boy. And, now, with him touring, getting a lot of female attention and never being at home, it annoys me, because I know I’ll never stand a chance.

And that is why I hate him. He’s too nice for even himself - so genuine, gorgeous, happy. He has it all, and my existence is nothing but a millimetre in what world he lives in.

“Why not?” Max whined, loudly. “Alice, please. You don’t even have to stay the whole night - just show your face. Please?”

I could imagine the pleading look he had upon his face, and with that in mind, I couldn’t say no. “Fine, alright, fine. Fine. God, Max, I could kill you.” I muttered, running a hand through my hair. “When is it?”

With a high pitched squeal from the guitarist, the boys in the background laughed, and Max was once again speaking, “Tonight. Seven, yeah? Be there or be square, my dear Alice!” he sang.

Rolling my eyes, I said my goodbyes and hung up, throwing my phone into my bag and standing still for a moment, just thinking. What had I gotten myself into? I’d show my face, the boys would be there, they’d say their hello’s, I’d say mine, Josh would speak and I’ll probably try to ignore him and then that would be it. What would even the point of me attending be? Max would only want me there for a few minutes, then he’d see a girl he likes and walk around, chasing her. The boys and my friendship isn’t great, but it’s civil enough, which means that I won’t even be talking much in the first place.

Then again, there was alcohol involved. Well, I knew there would be; it was Max, for Christ’s sake! And, I could always leave for a cigarette if it got too boring. With the latter, better thoughts in mind, I let out a breath and smiled to myself, calmly, re-entering the kitchen again.

By this time, Sharpie had finished her food, and was licking the empty bowl, which made me blink. I then returned to the note, picking up the pen, and began to write my reply:

Dear Tina.
Everybody hates you. Even people you haven’t met yet.

Your mum called just to say she’s so glad she hasn’t heard from you.

Alice.

Then, I left the note on the counter and turned, walking into my room to get ready.



It was 19:04 when I got there. Rounding, it was five past seven. Outside was freezing, but when I got inside, I was immediately turning red with the heat. The music that was blasting sounded like Dubstep, which made me cringe, but I immediately made my way towards the bar. Ordering Smirnoff and Orange Juice, I rubbed my face and readjusted my hat, smiling when the bartender pushed the glass towards her. Vodka was a girls best friend. Or, at least, mine.

As I brought it to my lips, there was a heavy hand that fell onto my shoulder, I jumped, spilling a little bit of my drink as I did. I put the glass down and turned, grinning when I saw Max, smiling wildly at me. “Hey!” I called, the beat still pounding into my ears.

Waving, my energetic cousin bounced over to me, wrapping me in a huge hug, his arms tight around my small frame. I embraced him, though, as I hadn’t seen him in quite a while. “Alice!” he squealed, laughing. “I’m so glad you actually came!”

Nodding, we pulled away, and I hugged Matt, Chris and Dan, who had suddenly appeared by my side. We talked for about, twenty minutes, before someone caught my eye. He was by the DJ’s, probably trying to yell at them to put something else on, but my heart sunk when I saw a brunette holding his hand, leaning into his side.

I turned my head and smiled a little as the rest of the boys waved and wandered off to mingle with the guests, and then, I went back to sitting on the stool, sipping my drink. I don’t know why I was suddenly so bummed at what I’d seen, but I had a vague idea.

Jealousy.

Finally, Joshua had a girlfriend who didn’t look fake or annoying, but she wasn’t me. And I hated that. It was like God had noticed how down I was about Joshua in the first place, and thought, ‘Oh, fuck it, we’ll make her life a little more miserable’. You know, because I wouldn’t mind at all.

I stared down at the liquid in my glass, and licked over my lips. Maybe I should’ve just left before he even noticed I was in the same room as him. But that got me thinking harder. I ran from everything, and the boys knew that. When I was younger I ran from everything, and now, I’m still doing it. Wouldn’t it be pathetic if I ran because of him?

I wanted to run, though. So badly. So, so badly.

My thoughts were interrupted when a hand was brushed along the small of my back, and I turned my head, trying not to choke on my drink when I saw Josh standing there, a broad smile on his face. A smile that showed off his pearly white teeth. A smile that I had grown to absolutely adoring.

“Alice!” the singer yelled, excitedly, his arms opening for a hug. The music was suddenly turned down, then, a completely different song came on, and I noticed it was an Adele remix. I only knew what it was because it had been played on the TV show, Misfits, and it had quite a bass on it. As the song pounded into my ears, I stood, and was immediately pulled against his body, my cheek resting on his red and black plaid shirt. “How’re you doin’, love?”

“I’m fine.” I called, shrugging myself away, uncomfortably. I’d just seen him with his girlfriend - I didn’t want to get butterflies and blush from a hug that lasted longer than ten seconds.

However, Josh didn’t notice how uncomfortable I seemed to be, and he continued to grin, just watching me. “How’re you finding the party, then?” he asked, finally.

I shrugged and took my glass, sipping my drink. Licking over my lips, I waited for a minute, before answering, “It’s alright, I suppose.”

This time, before Josh could answer, the girl I’d seen with him before ran up behind him, jumping on his back and whispering something in his ear when he’d caught himself and held her legs, probably so she wouldn’t fall from his back.

The two laughed, and Joshua left me standing on my own. This is what I meant. He doesn’t even realise he’s doing it, and she probably doesn’t realise, either.

I stared after them, then twisted my mouth to the side, looking down at my drink for a moment. Well, this was a really good night for me. Taking my hat off and leaving it on the bar, I brought my drink with me and left through the fire escape and padded up the stairs, sitting on the roof of the small building. I stared at the street for maybe fifteen minutes, checking my phone every so often, and then, I lay down, staring at the sky, my drink beside me on the floor.

After, maybe, an hour or so of just laying there and thinking, I was lost as to whether it was tiredness playing tricks with me or if it was the real deal, but my phone had buzzed me half-awake, the screen bright with ‘Francecshi’ flashing across the screen. However, before I could answer, my sleepiness had won me over, and I fell back to sleep again, on the roof of the building holding the party.