Young Writers Society

right, im having great difficulty with this, what with the changing of time and speach and stuff, so please let me know if i have made any time errors or anything, enjoy Rated R becuase of the language, im also working on the next part so let me know if you have any ideas for it!

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Chapter two

My favourite song is ‘Itchycoo Park’ by Small faces. It reminds me of the summer, the air feeling fresh on my fingertips, my feet dancing me along the hot tarmac. It was the summer I moved back into the house. After Rob died others had lived there, but apparently their family grew so they moved again, and by that time I had mustered up enough money to buy the place for myself. It seemed almost perfect…being there alone. Especially that summer. They say it was the hottest summer of the decade, for this area anyway. I spent my summer collecting lost buttons, simply for the reason of the tin I kept them in. I loved Tetley tea, so I sent away with my little cut out tokens for the special edition tin, when it finally arrived in the post it was so magnificent I decided it was too good for tea. So It was my button tin. What I liked about finding other people’s buttons was that they had been places. Some of them were probably older than me and more than likely had an exciting story to tell. At the end of each day, I would sit on my garden chair on the back garden patio with my button tin. I would pick up each one, run my index finger around the rim, with my eyes tightly closed, analysing the texture, the size, the shape. Not all button are circles y’know.

This summer I met Jake, he has become my best friend within two or so weeks. He seems somewhat amazed that I am only twenty three and have my own house. He hates living with his parents, I guess he hints about moving in with me quite a lot, but he smells to be completely honest, and he likes to swear quite a fair bit.

“You should really meet my parents Jamiy. Complete and utter control freaks. I say, they need to get their own fucking lives instead of pissing about with mine. You know, I wanna be a writer, yeah? Can you see me doing that?” When Jake speaks, his eyes seems to scatter all over the place, almost like they are finding it difficult to focus on one thing.

“Why would I want to meet them if they are control freaks? Won’t they try to control me?”

“No, you’re a successful person, you don’t need controlling” Another thing I notice about Jake is that he touched his chin an awful lot, people say these are nervous twitches, but I don’t see why Jake would be nervous around me, maybe he is nervous about his parents.

“I’m not successful…I got this house quite cheap…and my job isn’t all that thrilling”

“Don’t be so modest all the bloody time. Look at yourself, next thing, you will be married and the girl will be popping out kids before you know it” He stutters slightly at this. The only thing I can think to do is to laugh and offer him a drink. Like usual he asks for a beer. I choose orange juice, with ice. “Aww cheers mate, gotta love the good old John Smith’s, or…orange juice in your case”

“I don’t drink alcohol”

“I know…your fucking weird…ever done drugs?” I have never seen Jake look this giddy before…and im not sure why he is looking at me like that anyway.

“Once…Rob got some stuff, but never since, my head felt too heavy”

“Rob? That the guy you used to live with?” He slips forward on the couch, clinking his glass down on the coffee table.

“Yeah”

“I heard that he died here”

“He did…a few years ago”

“Wow...did you find him?”

“No, I had left”

“Oh…heard you were his sex slave” Jake laughs incredibly loud at this, so I laugh also feeling that its appropriate to do so. But as his laugh rings through my ears, im dipping my fingers into the orange juice, circling my index finger around a jagged ice cube, I pick it up, and pop it into my mouth. Jake stops laughing suddenly “Were you…y’know…did he ever fuck you?” I want to tell him no, but the ice on my tongue is not melting quick enough, so I reply with an awkward gurgling noise.