Perfect

Fifth chapter. Thalia's POV.

I've got to go back to school today. It's the first time in weeks. I can't say I've missed that many people, other than Christopher. We met when we were 13. He was this awkward boy, with glasses and the hands of an artist. I met him in an art class. The way he held a paintbrush, like it was an extension of his hand, was the first thing I noticed. I guess it was only a matter of time before our friendship became something more. That's exactly what happened, in December of last year, when he kissed me for the first time. I wouldn't say there were fireworks or any of that romantic bullshit they talk about in books and films, but it just felt natural.

I sit down on the chair at my dressing table and look at myself in the mirror. There was a point, around when I stopped eating, that I decided to cover all of the mirrors in my room. I taped newspaper over the dressing table mirror, and the full length mirror on my wardrobe. But now, instead of paper and ink, my own refection stares back at me.  I see red hair, straight, conditioned, smooth, in stark contrast to my sister's messy bun and wisps of amber. Blue eyes, pale, icy, almost startled. Lips, pink, cheeks with faint color. I apply make up, scrape my hair into a ponytail, not a single strand out of place. I have developed a policy of attempted perfection because that way, it masks the possibility of there being anything wrong. 

I rise out of the chair and turn to the wardrobe, taking in the slightly too thin figure and nervous appearance. My nails, once bitten down, are now manicured, painted, even. I wonder what Chris will think. The last time he saw me, I was bright eyed, with paint stained hands and flowing vintage clothing. Now, as I pick out a vest top from the color coordinated draw, and pull on blue jeans, I am reminded of the order that has replaced the chaos of my old self. Everything is easier in a routine. My bag is on the chair, a simple leather satchel containing files and stationary, ordered, categorized. 

I make my way down to the kitchen. My mother is making breakfast for my sister, who has finished school having completed her A Levels. It allows more time for swimming. Her diet is ordered, healthy, beneficial for her athletic nature. My diet is also managed well. Every meal is planned. I pour myself a measured amount of cereal and a glass of orange juice, before taking an apple on my way out of the kitchen. My mother runs after me to kiss me on the cheek, not wanting to allow me out of the door just yet.

'Are you sure you're ready to go back?'

I was really hoping she wouldn't do this. Ever since the anorexia, she's been afraid of me returning to my old routine, even with my new organised way of managing life. 

'Yes mum, I'm sure. Keeping me here won't help me'.

She hesitates for a moment before fixing a smile on her face.

'No...You're right....You're right'

She laughs a little nervously.

I turn on my heels and walk out the front door. 

I've decided to walk to school now. I used to take the bus with the friends I used to have, but now I wouldn't say we were friends. How can you maintain a friendship with someone if you shut them out of your life when all they want to do is support you? I couldn't. They didn't understand that I needed to change to get by. I couldn't be the same impulsive, spontaneous person I once was. It just didn't fit. 

When I walk through those school gates, I immediately feel a sense of panic and wonder if my mother was right, I'm not ready. But then I compose myself and make my way towards the main building. I haven't told Chris that I'm coming back today. I don't know if I wanted to surprise him, or maybe I just didn't want him to have time to think about how to tiptoe around my emotions. I figure he'll be in the art room, considering it's where he used to spend most of his time, at least when we were together. I'm scared that our relationship won't go back to the way it was before, that the intimacy would be gone, although we haven't been that 'intimate' yet. 

I walk into the art corridor, and feel people's eyes on me. Other girls who I have known for years, and guys, that similarly to Chris have only recently joined our ranks in our first year of 6th form. I turn into the room, and then I see him. He's sitting on a table towards the back of the room, drawing with charcoal, his movements swift and graceful. He looks up and sees me, and looks startled. 

'Thalia...'

Author's Note

Please let me know what you think. This is my first time writing romance, and I want it to feel genuine, so if it doesn't please tell me that. I only really want honest reviews.

Reviews

[ASHIDASH]

I'm frankly giving you my ideas. You have a good style. Creativity flows out through your words which enters straight into the reader's heart. Keep on writing and remember that I'm waiting to enjoy the next chapter.

Best of luck

[Willow Radcliffe]

I'm working on it at the moment. It continues directly on from this one