Where the Wind Takes Us

“Motherfuckin’ Josh Carey,” I spit out in annoyance, plopping myself on the ground between Georgia and Colton. I know they’re being all couple-y and shit, but I can’t bring myself to give two fucks right now. I’m still annoyed from yesterday when that fucker made me walk home with all the heavy art shit in my bag. When I eventually got home, I had to lug it up a flight of stairs before I could return to the sanctuary known as my room. I mean, I had to take it up the stairs anyways, but knowing that the pain could have lessened if Carey hadn’t annoyed me wasn’t helping me much at this point. “Little shit fucker thinks I am Mick’s bitch. Like I walk around like his fucking lapdog, taking orders from Mick and Mick only. Who does that little shit think I am?”

“Christ Nat.” Colton places a hand on my arm, but I’m too fired up to push it away. “I’ve never seen you this angry before.”

“Maybe Josh brings it out in ya,” Georgia replies, wiggling her eyebrows suggestively. “He does make a point though, you have been acting different around Mick for a while. And we still haven’t talked, y’know.”

Last night, I was supposed to message G like I had told her I would, but I was too busy working on my art folios to even log onto Facebook. Once I’m immersed in my art, it’s hard to pull me out, with the exception of food, bathing and sleep of course.

“I was doing my art folio last night,” I say dismissively. “That’s not the point, though. The point is that I was arguing with Josh on the bus and he made me angry enough to get off at the wrong bus stop so I had to walk ten minutes extra to get home and my bag had all this heavy art crap in there so now my shoulders are sore like no freakin' tomorrow. God, he’s annoying.”

“Who is?” Mick asks, followed by James as they sit opposite us on the carpet in the common room.

“Josh Carey,” Colton and Georgia answer at the same time. I roll my eyes at their togetherness, but pause when I see Mick stand up abruptly.

“Mick,” I say slowly. “What are you doing?”

His lips form a tight line, drawing his eyebrows together in anger. “I’ll be back,” he mutters. The four of us exchange glances but watch him walk out of the common room and with a gasp, I realise who he’s heading towards.

“We have to stop him!” I cry, pulling the closest arm to me as I get up and run after Mick.

“You can let go of my arm now,” Colton says, but I ignore him, running across the courtyard, only to see Mick’s face up against Josh’s. I’m not sure why Mick’s doing this. The only thing I can think of is that he’s trying to defend my honour or something, but him doing is that is just so random to me.

“Mick!” I call out, trying to stop him. He doesn’t respond and instead, pushes Josh menacingly by his shoulders. I watch in horror as Josh pushes back, and soon enough, the boys are in some sort of testosterone fuelled fight as Mick throws the first punch. It’s lucky that Colton ran in just in time to pull Mick back from Josh, otherwise Josh’s nose would have been bleeding hardcore. I’ve seen Mick punch someone before, and it isn’t pretty.

“What the hell is wrong with you?” I exclaim, hastily situating myself between Josh and Mick so no other punches or kicks or whatever else could escalate into something more. “Are you seriously starting a fight with someone because I call them annoying?”

Mick is breathing heavily, and I can tell he just really wants to punch Josh. I mean, yeah, I had to walk home with heavy shit in my bag and that, but Josh doesn’t deserve to be beaten up because of it. Or maybe he wouldn’t be beaten up. Josh is quite muscled, and it’d be interesting to see who would win in a match.

C’mon Nat, focus!

Mick doesn’t answer, his eyes still focused on the boy behind me. Colton tries to tug him away, muttering something along the lines of “Josh isn’t worth it”, but he doesn’t move. I sigh, and turn around so Josh’s dark hazel eyes are staring right into mine. That’s weird. When I saw him on the bus, his eyes were green, but today they’re hazel. Maybe his eyes are the type of eyes that change colour. I wonder if that’s genetic.

“Look,” I start, but Josh cuts me off.

“If you’re trying to apologise on Mick’s behalf again, don’t, I’d rather hear it from Ryans himself,” Josh growls, and I can’t help but think how handsome he looks when the wrinkles in his forehead crease just that little bit and his nose flares slightly. “What did I tell you about being Mick’s little bitch?”

“Don’t call her a bitch,” Mick shouts, lunging for Josh again. James appears from behind Colton and the two boys manage to pull Mick back. “You fucking pansy ass queer!”

If I think Josh is angry before, there’s nothing like the pure rage on Josh’s face as he registers Mick’s words. I can’t help but wince at Mick’s speech, but I do it internally so Mick doesn’t think I’m angry at him or something. I place my hand on Josh’s chest, steadying him underneath my hold. It seems to work and I can feel his heartbeat slowly calming down, but that doesn’t stop Josh from leaning close to put his face near Mick’s threatening again. Meanwhile, I’m stuck in between both of the boys and I can’t help but think that while Josh smells good, Mick smells a bit. I should really buy him some cologne for a graduation present, or something.

“Touch me again and I’ll call the cops on you,” Josh says in a low voice, keeping it down so the boys don’t attract more attention than they already have. “Wouldn’t be so great if you couldn’t graduate Mick, now would it?”

The shock on Mick’s face is enough for Colton and James to completely subdue Mick, dragging him away. I feel like Josh’s words have hit Mick harder than it should, but I figure that it’s because we’re so close to graduation that the thought of ruining it would be disastrous, or something. I remove my hand from Josh and watch Mick as he walks away, torn between slapping Josh for retaliating to Mick’s shit or following after Mick himself.

“Go on,” Josh says brusquely. “Follow your master, then.”

His words about me being Mick’s bitch has just gone too far now. I am truly pissed off at Josh now, and the slight sympathy I may have felt before from Mick’s insults has gone now.

“Fuck off, cunt,” I hiss, not bothering to stick around to see the hurt look on Josh’s face as I stomp off. I’m not Mick’s follower, but he’s my best friend and I have to see if he’s okay and I love him.

Immediately, the guilt sets in on using the ‘c’ word on Josh, but I brush it off and focus on the anger instead. The boys nor Georgia are in the common room, but I spot them on the soccer field, sitting on the sidelines.

“I could’ve taken him, that fucking wanker,” Mick rants. The boys let him, with Colton keeping quiet as James adds in comments here and there. I know that neither of them really cares about Josh, let alone about other people, besides the group of course. Colton is pretty quiet and tends to keep to himself, so you never really know whether he actually cares or not, and James is just letting Mick rant because how else is Mick going to get all that testosterone out of himself? “Nat, you should’ve let me give him one punch at least!”

I stay silent, leaning my head against Georgia’s shoulder, as Mick continues on.



Later that night, I’m working on another bloody math assignment that’s due in a week’s time. The earlier I can start and subsequently finish this thing, the sooner I can work on my art folio. I have two art folios to do, and I have to give them to my teachers ASAP, so I can finalise them and send them off to the universities in Melbourne I’m applying to. My marks in art are pretty high, and my teachers in both Photography and Studio Art know that I’m applying to art schools, so they’ve allowed me to do my studio pieces in black and white, and before I send it off to the art schools, I’ll be doing them in colour, if I feel like it’s fitting for each individual piece. Art isn’t a subject that’s taken too seriously at our school, but I take it seriously and hope to one day sell my pieces and have it hanging in somebody’s house one day. I think that’d be nice.

Obviously, I can’t do this math assignment alone, so before I know it, I’m Skyping with Georgia and she ends up making me tell her what happened between me and Mick. The humiliation of telling her what happened resurfaces, but I’m surprisingly okay, emotions wise. I was expecting a tear or two, but I seem to be okay. But it still hurts.

Georgia sighs. “I’m sorry, Nat.”

I shrug. “It’s okay. I’ll get over it. Graduation’s coming up and soon enough we’ll all be at different unis and stuff and I’ll meet a new guy and things will be okay.” We both know that that’s not true, though, because Georgia has known about my crush on Mick for a long time and like me, she had hopes that we’d end up together. “Can we focus on that stupid math thing, now?”

Georgia agrees but I can tell she wants to talk about what happened today, judging by the way I cut her off when she tries to open her mouth. So we work on the math assignment and an hour later we finish, thank the lord.

The parentals aren’t home so I order takeaway for myself, sticking to sushi because it’s the healthiest. While I wait for the guy to arrive with my food, I take a quick shower and clear my floor, connecting my laptop to my charger so I can make a list of what direction I’ll be taking with my studio art folio. I have the running theme down – my friends. They don’t know it, but they’re a huge influence in what I’m inspired by, and since my friends are the most important thing to me, they’ll be my main focus. I haven’t decided anything else though, so I’m hoping the sushi will make a contribution to my inspiration levels.

The sushi arrives at around eight pm. I pay the guy with a tenner and head up to my room, placing the sushi next to me as I eat while I work out my studio shit. My phone buzzes, and I have every intention of ignoring it, until it buzzes three times over.

With a sigh, I pick it up to see Mick’s left a bunch of messages, reading:

Nat?

Nat, I need to talk to you.

Nat, can you do me a favour?

And the most recent one,

Nat, for Christ sake show that you’re typing or send me a message so that I know you’re not dead

I chuckle to myself and send him a what’s up? before pressing Send.

His text comes in a minute or so, and for a moment, I can hardly believe what I’m reading.

Can you convince Carey not to tell the cops on me? Grad is so close, don’t want to fuck up my chances

I hesitate, my fingers poised over the keyboard, ready to type but nothing is written. Another text comes in, simply saying Please.

I sigh, and text Mick back. Fine.

This isn’t me being Mick’s ‘little bitch’. It’s me helping out another friend, right?