Nine
Dom was getting more and more annoying with each passing day. That day she had attempted to tear through my sketch pad, spilling her water all over it through the process. She had ruined most of my pictures, and yet I was the one in trouble for retaliating and sent to my room. It was all unfair.
But at least mum hadn’t figured out how to permanently lock my window. I grabbed my now-ruined notebook and slid down the ledge until I rested comfortably at the bottom. The book was still damp and I almost wanted to cry as I opened the book, seeing my drawings bleeding across the pages. But I didn’t cry, it was silly to cry over things like this.
Angrily, I started ripping out the ruined pages, not caring as I balled them up and tossed them over the side of the ledge.
“Isn’t littering bad?” Of course Teddy was visiting, and of course he had something to say.
“I don’t care.” I tossed another paper over the side, he reached for it before it fell. It tore easily in his hands as he attempted to open it up.
“What’s this?”
“None your business,” I muttered, now scribbling furiously across a picture I had attempted earlier of Dom. It was stupid anyway.
Teddy didn’t respond; instead he just stretched out, staring up at the sky. It annoyed me sometimes, that he could stretch so comfortably on the ledge. The shingles and edge would dig into my bum and back, and I would ignore them until they were numb or it was just too much and I had to go back inside. But I didn’t want to be in my room, I didn’t want to have to apologize to my sister for something that she had done first.
The page was almost completely black now in front of me, and I knew the side of my hand was covered in pencil.
“I think I want to be a writer.” Teddy admitted out of nowhere. I attempted to ignore him and continued to scribble away. “You get to help people travel to different places without ever really leaving. Cool, innit?”
“Sure.”
“What do you want to be, Vic?”
He wasn’t going to be quiet anytime soon, and it wasn’t like I hadn’t thought I wanted to do when I grew up. I thought about it too often. “I want to be a dancer.”
“A dancer? You won’t make any money doing that,” he huffed. Now he was really annoying me. I slammed my sketch book closed and glared over at him. He wasn’t paying attention, he didn’t care.
“That doesn’t matter, doing what makes you happy matters. Anyway, I could always marry someone rich. If I wanted to marry anyway.” The idea of having to kiss someone for the rest of my life was gross, but I figured one day I would change. That’s what mum said anyway.
“I only want to marry my best friend. Gram says it’s the best thing to do.” He looked at me.
“So does that mean we have to get married?” He was my best friend, but so was Emelia Vance. Maybe I could marry her.
“Nah, but we could if we wanted.” I thought about it, marrying Teddy wouldn’t be the worst thing. As long as we wouldn’t have to kiss.
“Alright, I could marry you but only when we’re…27.” I offered. He looked at me as if I had lost my head.
“27?”
“27.”
“Fine.”
He flashed me a quick smile before turning his attention back to the sky. It was a cloudy day, but Teddy loved to stare at it nonetheless.
“You’ll have to be a famous writer though.”
“And you’ll have to be a famous dancer.”