Where the Wind Takes Us

“Nat!” I hear Georgia trying to catch up to me, and I groan. On Mondays, Mick has soccer practice so Georgia and I usually catch the bus home together. Usually, I don’t mind catching it, but I remember that G wants to talk about Friday night and I’m hoping to avoid that topic for as long as I possibly can.

“Christ Nat.” Georgia grabs a hold of my school bag from the back, and I yelp at the sudden feeling of being pulled. “Hold on, alright? We need to talk.”

Before we can, though, Colton swoops by and kisses Georgia on the cheek. “You ready to go?”

“Go where?” I ask, dumbfounded.

“Got the house to myself,” Colton explains with a grin. Colton’s parents are professors whom also happen to be on sabbatical for a year. This means that his parents rarely go out, so when they do, it’s something to celebrate. Colton’s parents are a little strict, but they mean well and they like G, I think. So it’s all good. “James is borrowing Barbs-” Colton named his car after the Victoria Secret model, Barbara Palvin. “So I’m going to need to catch a ride with you. Back to my house.”

I narrow my eyes at Georgia. “You’re ditching me?”

“Please,” Georgia snorts. “You’ve been trying to avoid this conversation all day. But don’t you worry, young grasshopper, I will find out.”

“About what?” Colton asks as he walks with us, me to the bus and Georgia to her car.

“About what I’m planning to get you for your birthday,” I say. Colton’s eighteenth birthday is this Saturday, making me the only underager in our group. What I’ve just said isn’t a lie, though, because G’s been planning something to get him for a while and asked me a while ago for my artistic skills, whatever that means. “Oh look, there’s the bus. Use protection!” I wiggle my eyebrows suggestively at the two. “And G, please don’t tell me what position you tried, okay? You don’t need to corrupt my young, innocent mind.”

As I’m entering the bus, I hear Colton going “Christ, G!” and Georgia replying with, “Are you practising what you’ll be screaming later tonight?”

I giggle. I love Colton and Georgia together, and I can’t wait for the day that they make it official.

I approach the backseat, seeing that a couple of shitty year elevens has occupied the spot.

“Move,” I bark rudely. I have no patience when it comes to people who think they can bag the backseat. Immediately, they scramble and sit in the seat in front of the backseat. I throw my bag to the kid sitting in front, and glare until she moves at least three rows in front of me.

Satisfied, I take a seat in the back, right in the middle so people know who is boss. That’s right, it’s me, Natalie Fader, and I mean business, goddamnit.

“Nat Fader,” a low male drawls in front of me. I look up, frowning as I try to figure out who it is. The first thing I notice is how tall he is, perhaps over six foot or so, and then I notice that his left ear is pierced and it transforms him from cute to well, hot. “I’ve missed your fire. Where’s it been for the past year?”

I glare at him as he throws his bag in the seat in front of the backseat, on the left side, and takes a seat next to me, lounging his back against the window with his legs draped on top of my lap. “Are you even in year twelve?”

He snorts in disbelief. “I’m in your Studio Art class. The guy who sits in front of you with the nice ass?”

My eyes widen as I realise who it is. Every time I come in into the studio classroom, there’s this guy sitting in front of me whose head blocks the white board. But, because we’re sitting on stools in front of our easels, I always have the delicious view of some guy’s ass in his gym shorts. It’s a beautiful sight, and until now I never knew who it was.

Because this isn’t just the guy with the nice ass. This is Josh Carey. As in the guy who plays for both teams Josh Carey. Why have I not noticed this earlier?

“Right,” I correct myself, blushing. “Sorry.”

The bus rolls along, and the year levels below us chatter to themselves, but I’m not paying attention to any of that while I move away from Josh, leaning against the bus window as I stare at him. “Erm, what were you saying about the fire thing?”

“Your fire,” Josh repeats. “Your passion. Your wit. Your fieriness. Where’s it been? I’ve missed it.”

I nod in understanding what he’s saying, but soon enough I’m annoyed. “What’s that supposed to mean? We don’t even hang out. How would you know if something disappeared or not?”

“I can hear Ryans talking shit about me when he walks past,” Josh explains. I feel the colour draining from my face, embarrassed by Mick’s actions. I know he has something against Josh because he’s bi or whatever, but does he have to be rude? “When you’re with him, I’ve noticed you’re quieter than usual. For someone who’s seen to be pretty nice, you sure don’t mind when Ryans verbally assaults me.”

I shake my head. “Mick doesn’t do that.” I frown. “I think I would’ve noticed if Mick’s being mean. I mean, yeah he’s said stuff but not to your face.”

“That makes me feel so much better,” Josh mutters sarcastically. I study his face, wondering if he’s actually upset by Mick’s words, but he doesn’t seem affected much by it. It’s like he’s saying it for another reason, but I can’t figure out why. “Don’t worry, I don’t want Mick’s bitch to apologise for me,” he adds when he sees me opening my mouth, ready to say something.

I cross my arms like a kid, but I don’t care. “I’m not Mick’s bitch. I do my own thing whenever I please. Mick doesn’t control me.”

“I sure hope not,” Josh smirks, sending a flurry of butterflies into my stomach. “It’d be a shame for a girl like you to be wasted on someone like Ryans.”

I’m not sure what he means by his words, but I don’t like him and at this point, I just want to get away from him as much as I can. The bus stops, signalling one of its many, and I don’t even know whether it’s my stop but I get off anyways, giving him the finger as I stomp off the bus.

As the bus pulls away, I realise that I’ve gotten off at the wrong stop. I know where I am – I have to walk about ten minutes to get home, but inside my bag is a bunch of art supplies I borrowed from the school today and it’s totally weighing down my bag. With a groan, I begin making my way home, swearing every time the weight on my shoulders digs into my skin.

To get home, I have to pass by some old residential area that’s yet to be refurnished since the house burnt down a couple of years ago and I guess the people who lived there didn’t have enough money to pay for it or something. I once asked Mick who lived there, but he went all weirdly quiet and didn’t say anything.

Thinking about Mick makes me realise I’ve temporarily forgotten about him while talking to Josh. But thinking about Josh just makes me angry, and I come up with a new string of expletives to shout in his face the next time I see him.

“Stupid Josh Carey,” I mumble as I finally reach home. That fucker doesn’t know what he’s on about.