Chapter Five

“If you wanted to buy that, it’s nineteen ninety five.” The boy was tall, lanky and had a kind face. His inquisitive brown eyes studied her silently and somehow Thursday knew that she wasn’t being judged based on what was between her ears for once.

“Oh, I’m just looking.” She told him, internally flattered that someone had paid her even a little attention. Quickly, she placed the box with the Barbie Doll in it back on the shelf, sliding it easily back into the place where it belonged.

“You know, we have all sorts of Barbie’s to choose from, including Veterinarian Barbie, assorted Disney Princess Barbie and Spanish School Teacher Barbie.”

Thursday frowned, unsure if he were joking or completely serious. His face, pointed and a little mischievous, showed no emotion and for a brief moment, Thursday wondered if her initial judgement of this boy was correct.

“Whoa, I’m joking. Joke.” He poked her softly on her left shoulder.

She widened her eyes. He had just poked her.

Blinking, she managed to stutter a ‘right’ and fiddled with the zipper on her jumper.

“So, aren't you a little too old for Barbie?”

For some reason, she took great offence to that remark. That something so close to her heart could be mocked and deemed childish.

“Do you have to be a certain age to like Barbie?”

She left him and his shocked expression standing alone in the middle of rows and rows of pink as she stormed towards home.

Fiona was nowhere to be found but Thursday did notice, with a small smile that her red dress, purchased especially for the Tattoo Incident, was missing.

Her shoulder blade burnt with guilt as she murkily remembered the obtaining of mentioned tattoo.

Click, click, click.

Coln stood inches away from Anthea's shoulder, clicking his tongue obnoxiously.

She tried the polite approach. “Shut up, will you?”

He didn't stop.

Clenching her fingers, his clicking growing louder and faster, she folded her arms across her chest, restraining herself.

“Will. You. Quit. That?” Her teeth were gritted, her eyes dangerous.

Smirking, he clicked one last time. “Sure thing.” He showed his pearly whites, baiting her.

A stomp was soon received by his toes.

“Apologising is for weak people.” She could hear the voice grinning.

“Way to be the bigger person.” The second voice, more mature and responsible, interjected smoothly.

“He deserves an apology for bearing the brunt of your anger.” Thursday could see his point but embarrassment climbed up her throat, into her cheeks and gripped her ears painfully, reminding her that it was there.

The toy store seemed larger than it had in seventeen years; the colours duller than she remembered; the looming exterior colder than a toy store ought to be.

Hiding her painfully burning ears behind a curtain of hair, she scrunched her body tighter within itself and tried to enter the store as unnoticed as possible.

The pinging of the door was hard to ignore and didn't help in her act of complete stealth.

Many eyes turned to her but thankfully, school holidays and Christmas was looming rendering the premise packed with screaming, tantrum-threatening children of all shapes and ages.

The Barbie aisle was particularly full with little girls stamping their feet and pulling boxes off shelves at three point seven second intervals.

She didn't see the boy at first. It didn't make sense that he would be in the same place twice in two days but after a quick then slow scan of the area, she noticed him. He was beaming at a small girl, her brown hair braided with strings of Barbie Pink, as if waiting for her.

When the girl was fully satisfied with her answer, he looked up, raising his eyebrows at her, as if to say ‘There, see, I can be nice to people’.

The walk from one end of the Barbie Aisle to the other was excruciatingly long, the destination occupied by a person who had poked her for the first time in a while.

“Well, hello there.”

Against everything, she was happy that he’d at least remembered her.

Scratching the back of her neck, she found the white gleaming tiles on the floor utterly spectacular.

“I’m sorry for-.” What exactly was she sorry for?

Bemused, the boy crossed his arms in front of his chest. “Apology accepted.”

She didn't know why she was apologising to a stranger let alone why she felt such a wave of relief as he offered his acceptance.

“Good.” She mumbled, her gaze travelling slowly to his blue Converse. One of his toes tweaked under her scrutiny. “Well then, I’ll see you around.”

She turned, her head down and shoulders forward, and quickly walked away from the aisle.

Once outside, the building behind her not so large and overwhelming anymore, she allowed herself a small smile and spun in the direction of home.

Her smile vanished when a voice called out behind her.

“Hey! Wait up!”

"Who knew that Anthea had a heart. Who knew?" Coln taunted her.

"Shut up," she muttered.

But she did. She did have a heart.

“Paul.”

Thursday frowned as she pushed a strand of hair behind her ears, “Sorry?”

“I'm Paul.”

“Thursday,” she nodded.

“No, I'm pretty sure today’s Sunday.” He grinned.

Thursday laughed. “No, I meant my name is Thursday.”

“Thursday.” He grinned. “Are you serious?”

She looked down. “Pretty serious.”

She tried to walk slower to delay the journey home only to hope that Paul would leave. He may have looked harmless but she couldn’t forget stranger danger.

“So you live around here?”

What was this? Twenty questions?

“Yes.”

Mindless chit chat was clearly not her forte.

All she could hear was her feet hitting the pavement. “Are you going to follow me home?”

He flashed a smile. “No, just until you give me your number.”

Anthea clapped gleefully. “He’s asking her out, he’s asking her out!”

Coln frowned and inched away slightly. “Yes; that he is.”

Anthea shot a look in his direction. “No need to be patronising.”

He sighed and Anthea could tell he was getting tired of the job already.

“Can’t handle it, Coln? Old age catching up to you?” Anthea smiled sweetly at him.

Coln frowned. “Hardly. Angels don’t age.”

She wondered how he could be so perfectly obtuse.

“I know that,” she snapped. “I was making fun of you-honestly.”

Coln snapped his mouth shut, choosing instead to glower at the infuriating demon.

Anthea smirked happily. “Come on Anthea. Just give the poor boy your number! It’s not like he’s going to stalk you.”

Coln frowned. “On the other hand, he is a stranger and you’ve never seen him before yesterday; you never know what will happen.”

“Oh come on, live a little, Thurs! Hayden always said you needed to liven up a little; besides, the boy is hot!”

Coln threw her a dirty look that could have obliterated her on the spot when Thursday started scribbling down her phone number onto his palm.

She smiled at the dumbstruck boy. “I’ll catch you around Paul.”

Anthea beamed, clearly impressed. “I didn’t know she had it in her.”

Coln glared. “There are clearly a lot of things you don’t know.”

But she could tell that he was in awe of the girl.

“Fiona, I'm sorry.”

It was a day of apologies.

“What for?” Fiona knew just which buttons to press.

“For being the world’s worst big sister.”

“Did you mean half sister?”

She just couldn’t make it easier, could she? Thursday reeled in her impatience and tucked it safely away.

“No, I meant sister.” She said, hoping that she looked at earnest as she felt. “Fiona, I didn’t mean it. You know how I can get sometimes. And Hayden was...he was...”

“He was great.”

“And he was our brother, no matter who our fathers were.”

Fiona launched herself off the bed and into her arms. “Good. I was beginning to think you didn’t inherit any of mum’s brains.”

A change of topic. “Did you get your admission letter yet?”

Thursday froze, having completely forgotten about the small letter, tucked in the back of her bookshelf.

“Yes. Fiona, I have to tell you; I got in.” She said glumly.

“Oh no.” Of all the people Thursday was close to, Fiona was the only one who knew of her deep desire. And it didn’t include a university degree.

“You still want to pursue singing?”

It seemed to make her ears burn, hearing it from Fiona. Somehow the truth was embarrassing to hear from her kid sister. “Yes, Fiona. I’m am.” Despite her immense stage fright and inability to sing loud enough on stage, regardless of the microphone.

“Then I support you every single step of the way.” Fiona was way too good to her.

“So our girl wants to be the next Australian Idol, huh?” Anthea was leaning against a mug. “Who’d have thought it?”

“I knew all along.” Coln told her proudly.

“Oh yes, sure you did.” Anthea rolled her eyes. “Just like how you knew she had a deceased older brother.”

“I knew that too. Perhaps I was just trying to prolong the suspense for you?”

Anthea rolled her eyes as Thursday’s mobile phone started to jig on the table.

“Someone’s calling her,” Coln said, surprised. The amount of phone calls the girl received was similar to the amount of brain cells Anthea possessed. And he didn’t think it was much.

“Hello?” Thursday said tentatively at the unknown number.

A familiar sunny voice answered. “Thursday. Hi, it’s Paul. Listen, I was wondering...”

Erm, quick updates are clearly not my forte. Sorry.