The Quiet Things That No One Ever Knows
four
'He' was as much of a mystery to Evie's parents as her writing was.
An empty face with no name was what 'he' was.
Evie knew just as little about him as her parents did, but thoughts of him kept her awake every night. She knew he was out there, somewhere out through that window in the wide world he was walking around writing too.
That was one thing Evie knew for sure:
He wrote too.
Words meant just as much to him as Evie. But whereas writing was the only passion in Evie's life, music pumped through his veins. He saw notes wherever he turned, he heard tunes whistles through his ear twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, every day of the year.
But at present, the tunes that swept through his ears were being overrun by the excited and high pitched first day back at high school soundtrack. Locker doors were slamming, the sounds of hundreds of shoes squeaking down the corridor, girls were shrieking in delightful recognition of their friend's changes in the summer, teachers exchanged the latest gossip and shared the 'Here It Goes Again' glances, the mummer of boys grew increasingly like the sound of thousands of bees as they discussed which girls had suddenly grown hotter over the summer.
Whilst the masses of kids swarmed past him Andrew McMahnon decided that he was in fact incredibly lost.
With a growing sense of despair and resignation he glanced at his timetable.
English Literature in room 23 B.
Where the hell was room 23 B?
Andrew sighed and was about to ask one of the many teenagers that gild along side him when a perky looking blonde came up to him.
'You look lost," she said with a grin.
"I think I am," Andrew said with a small sigh of resignation.
The blonde girl grabbed his timetable and glanced at it briefly.
"Room 23 b, just down the corridor and then left it's the first door on your right. You're new. Right?"
"Is it that obvious?" Andrew asked ruefully.
"Just a bit," she laughed. "You're a senior?"
Andrew nodded.
"Well I'll see you around then," she said with a smile and turned around, she saw someone at the end of the corridor whom she recognised and her face light up.
"Evangeline!"
And with that she stormed down the corridor towards a pretty brunette who was clutching a yellow lever arch file to her chest.
There was something about her that made him stop worrying about where he was and where he had to go, and instead he watched the interaction between the perky blonde and the brunette. The brunette seemed distracted and only listening half-heartedly to her friend. A relief crossed her face when the bell shrilled and she moved up the corridor away from her friend with a nod of good-bye.
Andrew snapped out of his thoughts and decided that it was best to get to his class. He followed the directions that the blonde girl had given him and soon in he found himself stood outside classroom 23 B without any complications.
With a sense that this was going to be the only lesson that he was going to enjoy, he opened the door and step in.
An empty face with no name was what 'he' was.
Evie knew just as little about him as her parents did, but thoughts of him kept her awake every night. She knew he was out there, somewhere out through that window in the wide world he was walking around writing too.
That was one thing Evie knew for sure:
He wrote too.
Words meant just as much to him as Evie. But whereas writing was the only passion in Evie's life, music pumped through his veins. He saw notes wherever he turned, he heard tunes whistles through his ear twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, every day of the year.
But at present, the tunes that swept through his ears were being overrun by the excited and high pitched first day back at high school soundtrack. Locker doors were slamming, the sounds of hundreds of shoes squeaking down the corridor, girls were shrieking in delightful recognition of their friend's changes in the summer, teachers exchanged the latest gossip and shared the 'Here It Goes Again' glances, the mummer of boys grew increasingly like the sound of thousands of bees as they discussed which girls had suddenly grown hotter over the summer.
Whilst the masses of kids swarmed past him Andrew McMahnon decided that he was in fact incredibly lost.
With a growing sense of despair and resignation he glanced at his timetable.
English Literature in room 23 B.
Where the hell was room 23 B?
Andrew sighed and was about to ask one of the many teenagers that gild along side him when a perky looking blonde came up to him.
'You look lost," she said with a grin.
"I think I am," Andrew said with a small sigh of resignation.
The blonde girl grabbed his timetable and glanced at it briefly.
"Room 23 b, just down the corridor and then left it's the first door on your right. You're new. Right?"
"Is it that obvious?" Andrew asked ruefully.
"Just a bit," she laughed. "You're a senior?"
Andrew nodded.
"Well I'll see you around then," she said with a smile and turned around, she saw someone at the end of the corridor whom she recognised and her face light up.
"Evangeline!"
And with that she stormed down the corridor towards a pretty brunette who was clutching a yellow lever arch file to her chest.
There was something about her that made him stop worrying about where he was and where he had to go, and instead he watched the interaction between the perky blonde and the brunette. The brunette seemed distracted and only listening half-heartedly to her friend. A relief crossed her face when the bell shrilled and she moved up the corridor away from her friend with a nod of good-bye.
Andrew snapped out of his thoughts and decided that it was best to get to his class. He followed the directions that the blonde girl had given him and soon in he found himself stood outside classroom 23 B without any complications.
With a sense that this was going to be the only lesson that he was going to enjoy, he opened the door and step in.
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