I Don't Want to Talk

"So he ended it, just like that?" The American says, after I had calmed down and he had led to me to nearest bench to tell him everything, "After three years, did he even give a reason?"

"He said he needed time to himself, I think I was suffocating him," I say. How embarrassing, I've just left my boyfriend and I've ran straight into the arms of another man. Another man with the most muscular build I've seen and beautiful blonde hair that curls just slightly. No, Carlie, we are not thinking of other guys right now; however, it is always nice to have a distraction.

"I can't imagine that, I'm sure it's something deeper that he doesn't want to trouble you with," He pats my knee and stands up, "I can ask him if you want, try and find out a bit more information whilst I'm his buddy for the week."

"Thank you…" Oh my God, I have just poured my heart out to a stranger whose name I don't even know yet.

"Austin. My name is Austin Olson. What's yours?"

"Carlie Gable. Thank you so much, Austin, you don't know how much I appreciate the chat."

"As a return for the favour, you couldn't show me where he's likely to be? Apparently I'm due to have a class with him in a few minutes." Crap. He's meant to have geography with him. Geography, the lesson where I sit next to Jay, alone, on our own table.

"Don't worry, I'm in that lesson, I'll walk there with you."

"Thank you," He smiles, and once again, I can feel a warmth fill my heart.

We walk back through the corridors lined with certificates and photos from school trips and into the geography department. I can see him stood by the door, his hood still up and chatting to one of the girls in our class. He's only making polite conversation, I know, but just the thought of him talking to anyone else but me shatters my heart.

When we get there it's awkward, he notices me but doesn't look up enough to see my eyes pleading for him to talk about something, anything, and so we stand in silence. This is until

Austin pipes up with the same chirpy tone he introduced himself to me with, "Hi, are you Jacobo? You're my buddy for the week, I'm new."

"Great." He doesn't look up from his shoes, "I'm sure Carlie must have already given you the scenic tour," He's got an angry tone and, if I'm not mistaken, I can see a hint of jealousy in the corner of his eye, he storms into the classroom and – without thinking – I follow, slamming the door behind me.

"What is wrong with you today?" I scream, I'm sure almost every single corner of the school could hear me. I don't care.

"What's wrong with me? Don't even go there, Carlie."

"What are you saying I've done?"

"You've done nothing. Well," He looks through the door's window to a clueless Austin flirting with one of the girls in the corridor, "You hadn't done anything."

"So what's wrong then?"

"Maybe the fact that I went and picked your Mum up from the station yesterday and had to listen to her slur about how much she loved that her daughter, her only daughter, had found a man like me. She said she thought of me as one of her own. She said I would have her blessing for whenever I decided to marry you. I sat through every single second of that car journey and you want to know what I realised?"

"What?"

"Nobody, not a single person, will forgive me for this. Nobody will understand where I'm coming from," He lowers his voice and leans against one of the tables, "Because why on earth would I end a three-year relationship with one the kindest, happiest, most wonderful girls in school. What sad, heartless loser would do that?"

"I don't think anybody would think that."

"Did you not see them in the common room, they were all pointing and laughing at me, and I know I deserve it but it just hurts, that's all."

"I know it does," I reach for his hand but he pulls it away.

"Please don't be nice to me, it's hard enough as it is."

"I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to be sorry for." He gets up, opens the door and, before walking out of the classroom he says, "It will take a while but I promise it will get better. I can't forgive myself if it doesn't."

As he leaves, Mrs Wilkins comes in – her hair a little dishevelled and her glasses crooked – she looks just as stressed as ever.

"Carlie, my dear, do you need a time out?" She says, straightening her cardigan and trying to brush the creases from her skirt.

"No thanks, I want to keep busy, may I take my work to the library though?"

"Of course, get it to me whenever you can, okay?" She has a smile only a Mum could have and the indent left from a ring on her left hand. It breaks my heart to think of how she balances such a difficult life with having to put on a brave face daily.

The library is quiet, deserted except for the librarian stacking books into a section for German literature, I didn't even realise our school taught German.

The tables are empty with only a few sixth formers using the computers in the corner, I sit at one of the smallest tables – with only two seats – and start work on my geography essays. They're easy enough and give me time to take my mind off of the break-up, I still had no idea how I was going to tell my Mum but writing about the earthquake in Haiti managed to keep me calm.

It's only when the bell went off that I realised I had already been there for an hour and it was now time for lunch. The librarian had returned to her office and was getting ready for an hour of bratty children and their games of monopoly, chess and Uno.

If it was even slightly sunny they would all be outside but the cold, thrashing rain against the windows proved otherwise. It was going to be one of the busiest lunchtimes the library would see all year. So, I left. I slid my work back into my handbag and slung it over my shoulder before hurrying out of the back exit.

Where was I going to go? I sure as hell wasn't going back to the common room, sitting in the pouring rain would be much more preferable to how cold that atmosphere would be. If Jacobo was still my Jacobo, we would sit in his car and turn the radio up over the sound of the rain. If Jacobo was still my Jacobo, I wouldn't be in this predicament.

It's no use being in school and pretending I'm okay. I would only have had one lesson left so I leave and walk home in the rain.

It's peaceful, I even take a scenic route to the lake, where the canopy encompasses me and only the pattering of the rain on the leaves and the slight breeze can be heard for miles.

My Dad said this was my favourite place when I was younger, I used to sit in a tree behind the lake and make up stories about fairies that would come from the water in the summer to heal everyone's sadness. I could really do with some of those fairies right about now to sweep me away to one of the lands I had made up in my head all those years ago.

I don't stay at the lake for long, the benches are all wet and the battery on my phone is dead, so I continue home past the fields and the little shop on the corner. I pass Jay's house without so much as a second glance and I'm walking up the drive when I notice Dad's BMW parked where it hasn't been in years. I almost don't want to go inside, the memories brim my eyes with tears, I don't want to go back into a house full of anger and dispute.