Where the Wind Takes Us

While I love Fridays as much as the next person, I’m more of a Thursday girl. Thursdays for me mean that I only go to school for half the day, and I have the whole day to chillax, or to go shopping by myself. James is the only person in our group that has the same Thursday spares as me, and while sometimes we do hang out, a lot of the times we like to do our own thing. James is committed to his school work, so he tends to get a bulk of his assignments done on Thursday nights (meaning that none of us can talk to him that night unless it’s extremely important). I however, go shopping. Sometimes I purchase art supplies that I like to stock up on, but other times I tend to go clothing shopping. Today though, is me doing neither of the sort. James offers me a ride home but I decline, and while the rest of the gang is in class, I decide to make good on my promise to Mick and convince Josh not to call the cops on Mick like he originally threatened to.

I see Josh hanging out with his friends at the front of the school, they’re leaning against a brick wall and talking about something, I don’t know what. I’m too far away for me to hear. Perhaps if I hide behind a bush and follow them, I can get Josh alone? I don’t really want to face his friends, in fear of what they might say about Mick. I don’t really want to get bitched out for Mick’s actions, either.

I feel a bit silly, but that doesn’t stop me from hiding behind a bush and peeking through the leaves. Josh hasn’t seen me, thank God. I can’t hear a thing he says but it doesn’t seem to matter as he and his friends start to move. Damnit! Time for me to go on the move.

The boys walk out of the school (I follow them casually, listening to some song on my iPhone and pretending to do my own thing) and get on the next public bus that goes to the local shops. They sit right in the back, and I sit in the front, so they don’t think I’m inconspicuously stalking them.

Which, of course I am, because it’s me and I’m not as stealth as I’d clearly like to be.

When the bus pulls up at the shops, I practically run out, forgetting about the fact that Josh is in the back as the thought of heading into my favourite art store clouds my mind. The store, Riot! receives new stock every Thursday – another reason why Thursdays are my favourite day. I’m immediately drawn to the new metallic paints, with at least twenty shades of gold presented in front of me. As I’m turning each bottle around and checking the prices of each, I feel a hand on my shoulder.

Skittish, I jump at what feels like five feet in the air before turning around and realising it’s the one and only, Josh Carey. He’s alone, which I’m thankful for.

“You scared the shit out of me!” I scold, placing a hand over my heart. “How did you even know I was here? Were you stalking me?”

Hello, my name is Natalie Fader and I have what’s known as foot-in-mouth disease.

Josh removes his hand from my shoulder and raises his eyebrow. “So you weren’t following me? I saw you behind the bush, Fader. Not exactly stealth.”

Immediately my face burns up, and I turn away from him, focusing my attention on the paints in front of me instead. At least, I try to. “I wasn’t following you.”

“Really?” His voice is laced with amusement. “What were you doing, then?”

“Um,” I start, not really sure where the hell I’m going with this. “Uh, I was admiring your outfit. You look great. And I just happened to be in a bush. It was just a coincidence.”

I don’t know why Josh makes me uneasy, but I think part of it has to do with the way he towers over me and well, to be honest, I love a guy who’s taller than me. Don’t we all?

“You do know I’m wearing the school uniform, right?” I don’t think it’s possible for me to go redder than I already am at this moment. Josh obviously picks up on this, as he continues. “Let’s face it; you were probably staring at my ass again, weren’t you?” He says it in a way that’s teasing and not at all rude or mean, like I had been with my words earlier.

“Sorry,” I blurt out. “About the ass thing. I mean the stalking! The stalking. I mean, I wasn’t stalking exactly, I was just following you. Which I suppose could constitute as stalking but I swear it wasn’t.”

Josh lets out a deep chuckle and doesn’t respond, instead focusing on the paints in front of him.

“How about you tell me what you were doing over some food, then?” He suggests.

I peek sideways at him and he seems calm, which I find a little suspicious, but maybe he’s just in a good mood or something.

“Okay,” I decide. “I just want to pick up some stuff, though.”

Josh picks up two bottles of gold paint. “Like whether to buy the –” He peers at the name of the paint bottle. “Stuart Gold or Concord Ivory, which look the complete same, by the way.”

“No they don’t,” I argue. “Stuart Gold is darker.” I grab the bottle from him and flash it in front of his face. “See? It is way darker.”

“Way? Really?” Josh is laughing, but it’s not a mean laugh. Again, his intentions seem pure and non-judgy, and it makes me feel even worse for calling him a cunt.

“I’m sorry,” I say and when Josh looks at me, confused, I clarify it for him. “I mean, for what I said earlier. I shouldn’t have said what I said. It was uncalled for and totally unnecessary.”

Josh nods slowly. “It’s okay,” he replies. “I know you didn’t mean it.”

“I felt really guilty about it all day,” I confess, taking the paint from Josh with the intention of buying it. “I don’t think of you like that. At all. You're actually a decent guy, well not that we've talked much but it's not like you've ever done anything to me, except for when you questioned about the fire thing but..." I trail off, blushing again at my choice of words. “Sorry. I’m talking shit again, aren’t I?”

Josh just shakes his head in response, smiling at me with a look I can’t quite decipher. I think it’s a nice one, though, because the way it’s making me feel inside is how I sometimes feel around Mick and I’m not sure whether this is a good thing or not, if even at all.

“You’re cute when you ramble,” Josh says in an offhanded way. My eyes widen and I’m not sure how to respond, but luckily Josh keeps talking. “Now hurry up and buy your paints. There is a Subway sandwich calling me from the food court.”


About fifteen minutes later, Josh and I are stuffing our faces with Subway sandwiches, a Coke for Josh and a watermelon crush from Boost for me. I’m not particularly concerned with the fact that I’m basically eating like a slob in front of Josh, because to be perfectly honest, I don’t care. Josh isn’t concerned either, and so we sit in the middle of the food court, heatedly talking about one of my favourite things in the world.

“You’re lying,” Josh says accusingly, putting his sandwich down in shock. “How can you say that Tim-Tams are better than Oreos?”

“Tim-Tams are Australian, mate,” I remind him. “Of course they’re better! Can’t exactly do the Tim-Tam slam with an Oreo, now can you?”

“But you can twist, lick and dunk it,” Josh argues. “It’s basically the same thing.”

“The same thing?” I stare at Josh, not believing what I’m hearing. “Are you retarded?”

“I’ve had both and they taste similar.” Josh crumples up his sandwich bag and takes a sip of his Coke, but not before offering me some. I decline, politely of course. “To be honest, Nat, I think you’re a bit off in the head if you think that Tim-Tams could compare to the likes of Oreos. They aren’t even in the same league.”

I glare at him, crossing my arms childishly in response. “Says the guy who thinks Oreos could compare to Tim-Tams. If I’m off in the head, then you’re just fucking stupid.”

There’s a silence between us before we both burst out into laughter.

“You know,” Josh starts after our laughter has quietened down. “You’re a lot different than I thought you were. Sorry that I thought you were Mick’s bitch. I figured that because you hung around him all the time, you were a bitch. And his.”

I’m not really sure how to respond to that, but I do like the fact that Josh is beginning to think of me differently. I like that he can see me for who I am, and not this rude person he thinks I might be.

“Mick is my best friend,” I tell him. “So we do hang out a lot, obviously. But I’m my own person, not his shadow or whatever.”

“I’m glad you’re not his shadow, then,” Josh murmurs, smiling. “You’re too good for that.”

I feel like I shouldn’t be surprised at my own response, but his words send me on another round of blushes.