The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows

Reckless (adjective)
Marked by a lack of thought about danger or other possible undesirable consequences

It was a description that Evie had never dared associate with herself. Everything Evie did she did knowing exactly what was going to happen. She was trained to think that way, her months of planning plots for her writing left her with the inbuilt sense of order and a demand for control over not only her fictional characters lives, but also that of her own.

But this control of her own life was but an illusion, and once Evie realized this it was too late to do anything except let the loneliness in, that had slowly but surely been creeping around Evie like a lion around its prey.

There was nothing she could do, nothing brought a smile on her face, not even the lame attempted jokes of her father and her mothers attentive nursing of Evie's broken heart with countless cups of tea and chocolates. It was the least effective therapy ever and it was getting Evie nowhere. She had no motivation, whether for school nor for getting up in the mornings. Her mother had to drag her out of her bed with violent force in order for Evie to even make it down to the breakfast table to take some nourishment to her.

On the other side of town, Andrew sat in the English Lit lesson that he usually shared with Evie, who was nowhere in sight, and Andrew had the sinking feeling that he was the reason for her absence. Gossip had been exchanged in the morning and much had been reported of the gigantic bust up that had occurred in the high school corridor two days ago.

Some thought that Evie was being ridiculous and melodramatic, this was the feeling that was given off largely by the males in the classroom, however the female vote of sympathy and understanding, except from Bella, was clearly in the majority and so the boys had been overruled and much of the day was spent lamenting Evie's suffering and thinking of ways to cheer her up.

It is times like these that you realize just how popular you are, even if you think you are the person whom no one notices. Girls whom Evie had never spoken to before appeared on her doorstep, taking in the devastated girl's appearance in with large shocked eyes before handing over the girlie DVD's and the comfort food they had brought with them. One girl who introduced herself as Noelle even insisted on taking Evie shopping that very afternoon and to both of the girls surprise, Evie didn't say no.

It took a heartbreak to finally get her to make friends. Irony has a sweet way of coming back to haunt us.

Contrary to cliques, Evie did not see Andrew at the mall and he wasn't waiting by Noelle's car once the girls had finished shopping. In a sense Evie was hoping that she would bump into him, she wanted it to be like a film where after a messy break up the handsome actor pops up all over the place convincing the pretty actress that they should get back together again.

Yet Andrew was nowhere to be seen and so Evie had to go without her clique movie moment.

At least for now.

Because whilst Evie was getting into Noelle's car with her numerous bags, Andrew was sat in his room, the bay window ripped open letting in the freezing autumn wind, in an attempt to keep him awake. He had been up for the larger part of the night reading the treasure that was the singed notebook of Evangeline's.

The words that he read had frightened him, simply because of their power, and their conviction hit him right on the stomach, causing him to have trouble breathing. Even more so when he realized that all these wonderful words had been written for him, and now they were ashes of yesterday mingled with the remains of what had once been splendid autumn leaves.

However a new and overriding emotion was making its presence clear to Andrew.

Frustration.

Why couldn't she just believe him?

He just couldn't take it anymore. He was beginning to loose his temper and almost had the mind to throw the notebook that he held clutched in his slightly burnt hands, right out of the bay window. But the inborn common sense within Andrew screamed its protests and Andrew placed the notebook delicately on the desk in front of him.

He then went on to do what he did best.

Andrew reached for a sheet of file paper. Narrow lined. He then reached for a pen. A blue biro. He never wrote in black. It was a color that looked too harsh on paper.

The most beautiful things ever written are written in times of the most extreme emotional sate. Songs are born out of experiences whether bad or good, that plays little significance. Our emotions guide us and for once rational thought and reason leave us and we are truly free. Emotions lead you in the right direction and you have no choice but to follow them, because they are all you are left with once the person who means everything to you has gone.

The minute Andrew picked up the blue biro it was as if every thought and every emotion jumped from his heart and head into the ink of the pen that was soon adorning the narrow lined sheet of file paper. Words upon words flooded out of Andrew and he had no idea where the sentences came from or where the word choice originated but he was like a man possessed. He carried on writing, scribbling, crossing out and amending the words that just poured out of him, like water breaking through a dam.

There was no possible logical explanation for what happened, it just did.

Three hours later, Andrew had perfected his masterpiece. Upon reading it again the strong and vivid impulse to set the sheet of paper on fire over came him. However Andrew fought against it. He then went on to pick up his old leather bound notebook in which he had written all his songs, he choose a blank page and there he copied the words from the single sheet of file paper, onto the pristine white page of the notebook.

This having been completed he started up a letter on a separate sheet of paper. This letter was one of vital importance and so it was another two hours and four screwed of letter drafts later that Andrew was finally finished. He folded the letter, placed it in an envelope and sealed this shut, before sliding it behind the hard cover of the notebook, so that the person who was destined to find the letter might easily reach it.

He snapped the cover shut and placed the book in the center of his desk looking at it wearily.

It was make of break now.