Until Fountain Bridge - Young Samantha - Страница 2
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was a huge step for her, and she’d told me last night she couldn’t believe how much she was
enjoying writing it. It had given me an idea for her next project.
“Why for Joss?”
“Because inside these diaries is the history of us.” I grinned at him. “It’s a good romance
story. I think it should be her next novel.”
I could see Adam was dying to laugh and I had no idea why so I ignored it. “Next romance novel?”
“Next as in follows the previous romance. The story about her parents is a romance.”
“Still, I’m pretty sure Joss wouldn’t classify herself as a romance writer. In fact, I’ve heard her say as much.”
“So have I.” I tossed my first diary back in the box since it wouldn’t aid Joss’s research
considering I was seven when I scribbled in it. It was mostly about my Barbies and Sindy
dolls and my issues with Sindy’s flat feet and the impossibility of her and Barbie sharing
shoes. It used to drive me nuts. “And I do believe the lady doth protest too much. She’s
definitely a romance writer. I’ve primed her to be a romance writer, subjecting her to so many
romantic dramas it would be a miracle if she didn’t become a romance writer.”
He chuckled at me and lowered himself to the floor so he was sitting with his knees bent,
my diary still open in his hands. His eyes scanned the pages. “So you wrote about me in all of
these?”
Yes, yes I had. I’d had a big old crush on Adam since I was ten and he was seventeen.
That big old crush had transformed into an even bigger crush when I was fourteen and then
had just snowballed from there. I threw another diary from my childhood in the box and
reached for the next one in the pile. “I’ve loved you for a long time, my friend,” I murmured.
“I want to read about it,” he replied softly, the solemnity in his tone bringing my head up,
my eyes to his. They glittered at me, full of tenderness and emotion that never failed to make
me breathless. “I want every piece of you. Even the stuff I missed without even knowing I
was missing it.”
I felt myself melt. I was a romantic to the very bone and although it would surprise anyone
who knew him, Adam catered to my romantic side with a dedication that thrilled me. He had
a way with words that turned me to mush… and then usually turned me on so it was a
complete win-win for him.
Giving him another soft smile I turned to the diaries and quickly flicked through them
until I discovered the one I wanted. Skimming it, I found the exact entry I was looking for
and then held it out to him, holding its place open for him. “Here, start with this. I was
fourteen.”
Adam raised an eyebrow, I assumed at the thought of reading my fourteen-year-old
thoughts, and took the diary from me. I knew what he was reading. I remembered it like it
was yesterday.
Monday, March 9th
It’s been a really strange day. It started like every other day. I got up just as Clark was rushing out to work, I helped Mum with Hannah since she’s got her hands full with Dec at
the moment, and I tried to feed myself as I fed Hannah. This meant I had to change my school shirt because Hannah thinks porridge is for decoration only. I wish that had been the only
incident today, but it wasn’t. As soon as I caught up with Allie and June at the school gates, I just knew something was wrong…
As soon as the bell rang for lunch break I launched myself out of my seat and hurried out
of Spanish class as if the hounds of hell were nipping at my feet. I tried to hold in the tears, I really tried, because I didn’t want any of these idiots to know they’d gotten to me, but as I
burst out of the school main entrance, the flood gates opened.
All the whispering and name-calling… it was horrible. I’d never had that happen to me
before. Not like that. People generally liked me. I was nice! I wasn’t… well for one I wasn’t
a “whore”. I cried harder as I heard boys in the year above me laugh at me as I passed them at
the gates. Fingers trembling, I pulled out the phone Braden had bought me for Christmas and
called my big brother.
“Els, you okay?”
As soon as I heard his voice another sob burst forth.
“Ellie?” I could hear his immediate concern. “Ellie, what’s going on?”
“Bri—” I struggled to draw in a breath through my tears. “Brian,” my cries continued to
interrupt me, “Fairmont… he-he’s a fifth year and he-he told everyone he had s-s-sex with
me at Allie’s birthday p-party on Saturday night.” I stopped and huddled against a garden
fence now that I was far enough away from the somewhat expensive prep school my absentee
father paid for me to attend every year. It was only a twenty minute walk from my parent’s
home on St. Bernard’s Crescent and I was more than tempted to cut school and hide in the
house for the rest of the day.
“That little shit,” Braden hissed, his anger actually radiating down the phone and into my
hand.
“They’re all calling me a whore and a slut, and whispering and laughing at me. Now June
isn’t speaking to me.”
“Why the hell is June not speaking to you?”
“She fancies Brian. I didn’t even… Braden I spoke, like, four words to him on Saturday
night. He asked for a snog and I said, “In another reality maybe.””
“Was there an audience when you said that to him?”
“His friends were there, yeah,” I sniffled.
“So you turned the little perv down and he started a rumor.” Braden cursed again. “Okay,
where are you just now?”
“I’m going to go home. I can’t take another three hours of this.”
“Sweetheart, you can’t go home. Braebank Prep doesn’t like its pupils to cut class. Wait at
the gates just now. I’ll get this sorted out.” I could tell by his tone that Brian Fairmont was about to learn you did not mess with Braden Carmichael’s little sister.
I hung up and wiped at my face, glad for once that Mum wouldn’t let me wear mascara, or
any kind of makeup for that matter, until I turned fifteen. Even then, she said I was allowed to wear mascara and concealer but no foundation, and definitely no lipstick until I was sixteen.
My friends thought she was weird.
Waiting on Braden, I felt a little better knowing he was coming to my rescue. My big
brother was really just my half-brother. We shared the same father—Douglas Carmichael.
Dad was a big deal in Edinburgh, he owned an estate agency and restaurants and a lot of
property that he rented out to people. He was loaded, and although he gave time to Braden, he
seemed to think spending money on me was a good enough apology for neglecting me the
entire fourteen years I’d spent on the planet. His neglect hurt. A lot. But I had Braden, who’d practically helped raise me with Mum, and my step-dad Clark. Mum married Clark five years
ago, and since the moment he’d come into Mum’s life he’d made it clear he wanted to be my
dad. And he was. More than Douglas Carmichael ever would be.
I sometimes wondered how it was possible me and Braden were spawned from him. We
were both too nice to be Douglas’s kids. Take Braden for instance. After purposefully
avoiding working for our father, a few years’ ago he suddenly decided he wanted to take a
role in the Carmichael ‘empire’, which meant he worked his bloody arse off to make our
father happy. Not only did he work a lot, he was wrapped up in this girl he was dating.
Analise. She was an Australian student and they’d just started dating. Braden seemed to
really like her. Still, he always found time for me. Say, to rescue me from hideous situations
like the one I was in.
“Ellie,” a familiar voice, and not the one I was expecting, caught my ear and I turned my
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