Shining Glory

Chapter One: Rachel

Catherine Hawthorn is beautiful, she is flawless and everything she touches turns to gold. She is tall and willowy; she has thick, glossy chestnut hair and striking green eyes. She is intelligent and interesting and everyone falls at her feet. She is given everything she asks for. She is blessed with good fortune as well as good looks.

She makes me sick.

Catherine Hawthorn is my best friend.

I, Rachel Clarke, am not beautiful. Nothing compared to Catherine. I am tall, too tall to be called willowy – lanky is the term often used. I have sludge coloured hair and sludge coloured eyes. I am intelligent but not captivating with it, my intelligence is more of a nerdy, bookish type. No one falls at my feet, if anything they tread on my toes in the rush to get to Catherine.
Catherine and I are inseparable. We have been together since Primary School. We are even going to University together. I know that sounds a bit strange. Surely best friends going to University together sounds like a recipe for disaster. I know this is going to sound extremely big headed but Catherine cannot do anything without me. She is totally dependent on me. I don’t even think going to University crossed her mind but when she saw that I was going, she wanted to go too.
So here I am. It’s the first night of University. Catherine and I are not in the same flat or building that would be too much of a coincidence. But we are in the same complex, her room is just around the circle from mine. We have decided to spend the night apart, socialising with our own flatmates and getting to know them. It’s horrible. I’m all tense and tetchy panicking that she’s having a better time than me.
I imagine the joyous looks on her male flatmates faces. The joyous looks they will be unable to hide. I am here with three extremely geeky boys. None of whom are exchanging joyous looks at my presence. There are girls in my flat, but one is an international student and has no desire to go out. Another entered her room with her boyfriend and has yet to exit it. The third is me.
The boys are nice though: George, Stephen and Nick. But not one is remotely good looking and they keep on talking about things I don’t understand. Things such as computer games and cult comedy programmes. I smile and sip my drink and try to include myself in the conversation. I am fighting away visions of Catherine in ‘The Party House’ surrounded by heaps of admirers. She text me a few minutes ago telling me about the great time she was having and promising to meet me out. I feel slightly sick as I top my drink up again.
“So, what are we going to do about the kitchen? We’re going to have to start up a rota or something,” I say after seventeen minutes of phone checking and not listening as the boys talk about a game called World of War-Craft. I shake my head in despair at my lame-ass comment. Who cares about a cleaning rota? Who fucking cares? This isn’t fair! For once in my life I would like to be the popular one! Why couldn’t I be in the house with all the beautiful cool people?
“Yes we should…” George says slowly.
“I think we have a cleaner, don’t we?” Stephen looks puzzled.
“You know what we should do?” Nick asks.
“What?” I answer.
“A WOW themed drinking game! I’m sure there’d be one on the internet!” Nick answers and Stephen gets excited and hurries to his bedroom to fire up his top of the range, perfect for gaming laptop. Since knowing these guys for a few hours, I know that WOW is proficient gamers talk for World of War-Craft.
“You should get an account, Rachel,” George tells me. I nod and take a bigger gulp of my drink. Clearly alcohol is going to be my only new friend at this university. Consequently by the time we head out, I am quite drunk already. Drunk and miserable. I don’t think I can handle seeing Catherine all tipsy and popular and being fawned over by fifty thousand new friends. I might just not go out. I might just stay in and go to bed and pretend to her that I had such a good time that I passed out before making it out.
Or I could go and maybe meet some more people because the people in my flat don’t quite do it for me.
Yeah, the second one seems healthier.
As expected Catherine is as gorgeous as ever and at the bar, literally surrounded by people. I mean, I know clubs are normally pretty packed but it’s relatively early and not that many people are here yet. The left side of the bar is empty but there is a cluster of people around the right. A tight knit bundle of people around Catherine. She is flawless in a tight green dress. I am so drunk that I think I am about to cry with jealousy. It’s just not fair, you know. I could be like her, I could be happy and popular and surrounded by hoards of people. But no, I had to be stuck in the flat with the five most antisocial people of all time.
I know it’s a big mistake but I really think I’m going to go back to my room. I’ll miss out on the friend making. I’ll have to spend the next three years sat in my room alone unless Catherine is free. I turn to leave and I feel her grab me around the neck.
“Can you believe it? We’re here!” She shrieks and pulls me in a one-armed hug. She starts introducing me to all the people around us. “This is my best friend – my best friend from back home. We’ve known each other for thirteen years!” She drunkenly hollers and everyone else politely nods hello to me before turning their attention back to the glorious Catherine. She pushes them all away and continues shouting in my ear, asking me all about my flatmates.
“They’re rubbish, Kate,” I shout back. “The boys are all geeky and the girls haven’t come out of their rooms yet! I’ve basically been pre-drinking by myself!”
“No action for you tonight then!” Catherine winks. I roll my eyes and take another gulp of my drink. No doubt she has her guy already lined up. I have experience of Catherine’s predatory ways; she picks her guy out when sober to ensure he is good looking enough for her and she always gets him when she’s drunk, later. Regardless of whether he is single. I mean, who is going to turn down Catherine?
Not even the appearance of my life-long best friend can bring up my spirits. I am a miserable drunk tonight. Even though I am dancing and taking pictures with Catherine, I don’t really feel there. I want to go home and whinge about this terrible start to university. Internally of course. I have no one to talk to.
I tell Catherine that I am going to the toilet. I feel like a bit of a bitch for leaving her, I mean, it’s not her fault she’s pretty and fun to be around. She’ll miss me if I go, but I’m sure she’ll find someone else to distract her. My grand scheme doesn’t really work when she comes to the toilets with me.
We are fighting our way through the now huge crowd. Sweaty bodies are pressed upon us from all directions. Our hands are clasped and I am leading the way. We assent the stairs by the toilets and some guy falls into me. He spills his drink all over me. Catherine is angered by this and shoves him against the wall.
“Look what you did!”
“Shit, sorry,” The boy slurs and starts patting down my dress. I bat him away. Catherine is refusing to let this go.
“Look what you did!” She reiterates. “You threw your drink all over my friend! Say you’re sorry! Say it!”
“I already said it!” The guy says angrily. I am on the verge of tears. The horrible, sticky alcohol is seeping through my clothes. I don’t want to stand around and watch as Catherine picks up another guy. This will just be a bit of banter; sooner or later he’s going to realise that he wants to have sex with her.
I want to go back to mine.
So I mumble some excuse to her and quickly rush off. I don’t want her to follow me, then I’d feel bad for ruining her night as well. Luckily for me, she is quickly swallowed up by a crowd of admiring friends.
I make my way out into the fresh air. I start to cry. It’s pathetic I know. But I can’t stop myself. Someone is shouting behind me but I ignore the calls and carry on walking. I doubt they’re shouting me anyway. But then someone pulls on my arm. I am shocked as I turn around and see that it is the guy who threw his drink all over me.
He followed me?
I try to not get excited about how good looking he is. I try not to think about how shit I must look, my make up washed away by my tears and my dress covered in alcohol. He’s clearly coming to ask me whether my friend is single. Do I have her number, maybe? She walked off without giving it to him. He’s intrigued by her beauty and her bitchiness. Catherine can be absolutely vile to someone and they will still be interested.
“Are you ok?” He still has his hand on my arm.
“I’m fine,” I sniff, rubbing my face with the back of my hand, well aware that this is probably not helping the running make up situation. He looks dubiously at me.
“Was this already happening or are you crying because you got a drink spilt on you?”
“I am not crying because I got a drink spilt on me,” I say scathingly. “I am crying because I’m very drunk and I hate my life,”
“Ok. There’s a not a lot I can do about that right now,” The boy says. “Want me to walk you home?”
“I think I know the way, thanks,” I say sarcastically. My room is on campus. The club is on campus. It will take me approximately three minutes to get back to my room. “Don’t let me keep you any longer. Just be assured that I am not crying because of you and my friend is most definitely single if you want to try your luck.” I carry on walking.
“Are you joking? She’d probably punch me in the face if I went anywhere near her. A bit volatile isn’t she?” The boy has fallen in step beside me. He’s walking with me to my room. I don’t really want to be around anyone right now. I want to sit and crack open the tin of chocolate biscuits my grandmother gave me and read the trashy magazines she also gave me. How can I get him to go away?
“She’s lovely, my best friend,” I say.
“She’s not my type,” The boy wrinkles his nose.
“Seriously, you don’t have to walk me back. I’m basically there anyway now.”
“I know I don’t have to. I want to.” He says and smiles at me. I stare at him as though he is something on my shoe. I don’t like it when people are drunk and they think they feel affinities with people. Why can’t they admit what it really is? A desire to have sex with them. Why do they insist on sprouting all this cheesy rubbish?
“Why? You don’t know me and don’t start banging on about how you felt something for me as soon as you saw me. Because you didn’t see me, if you had, you wouldn’t have walked into me. I despise cheese.” I say moodily.
“Maybe I bumped into you because I had seen you and wanted to get better acquainted?”
“You’ve got me mistaken for my friend.”
“What is it with you? What is this fixation you have with your friend? Is your self confidence so low that you think everyone is looking at her and no one is looking at you? Perhaps you’re scared of people approaching you so you always bring the conversation back to her? Perhaps you live through her so none of the bad stuff happens to you?”
“What do you know? Look, I’m back now and I want to be left alone. Please go away, I very much appreciate you walking me the three minutes back. See you around,” I am pressing the code into the entry thing and he grabs my wrist.
“Will I though, will I see you around?” He asks earnestly.
“What is wrong with you? Is your self confidence so low that you have to follow upset people home? Perhaps you think that they will show you some attention because you showed them some in their time of need?” I am mimicking his earlier psychoanalysis. He looks nonplussed. I don’t think he’s used to people putting up a fight. He’s like the male equivalent of Catherine.
“What’s your name?”
“I’m sorry, I don’t talk to people who throw drinks at me.”
“You walked into me! If anything you owe me a drink!” He says. His eyes are sparkling and he is smiling cheekily. Now I am the one sprouting cheesy rubbish. What is happening to me?
“I’m Henry,” He says.
“That’s nice.” I can’t keep this up any longer. Any minute now I am going to crack and invite him up. We’ll have sex and then when he’s got what he wants he’ll be off and I’ll never see him again. I have learnt through past experience that one night stands aren’t really for me. He looks genuinely confused. I suppress a giggle. I really don’t think this guy can handle rejection. I decide to throw him a bone.
“I will see you around, Henry, have a good night,”
And I open the door and go up the stairs to my flat. I allow myself one peep backwards through the window and I see him still standing outside my door. I think he is too bemused to move. I really, really hope that I see him again. But then I also really, really hope he can remember me in the morning and his following me back wasn’t just because he thought he was going to get some.
I am in my room now. I take off my ruined make up and do indeed crack open the chocolate biscuits. I am reading a magazine woozily. I know I will have no recollection of the stories in the morning. Oh well, it’ll be nice, like having a new magazine. Shame I won’t have new chocolate biscuits too.
I am startled by something hitting my window. I freeze. What on earth can that be? A bird meeting an unfortunate end? Pranksters throwing things at my window? I turn my bedside light off, slide off the bed and crawl to the window. I try to avoid being seen and peep over the window sill. I can see nothing, it’s so dark. I get a little bolder and stretch up higher.
I gasp and sink back down again.
There’s someone there.
But who?
Why am I so scared? They’re floors below me. What can they do but throw things at my closed window until they’re bored of this game. I take another peek and snort vehemently when I realise it is Henry. He’s throwing stones at my window. He’s standing there with a gormlessly hopeful smile on his face.
“Come on, Mysterious Girl! I might not have ruined your night, but I can make sure you have a good one! Let me in!”
“I told you to go away!” I open the window and lean out to shout at him.
“Look, I’m going to level with you, either we both go around to the front and you let me in or I will scale the building and come through the window.”
“You wouldn’t dare!”
“Wouldn’t I?” He says menacingly.
“Go away!” I shut the window ensuring that it is most definitely locked and I take up my position on the bed. I carry on reading my magazines. I’m getting quite sleepy now; I might call it a night soon. But then I hear the most curious noise. A loud thump followed by a shout. Almost as though someone seriously inebriated has taken a running leap at the building. Almost as though they’ve taken a running leap, drastically underestimated the distance and have ran straight into the side of the building. Something like that.
For goodness’ sake. Why couldn’t he just have gone home? I get out of bed again and approach the window. Sure enough, Henry is on all fours, clutching at his face. I can’t leave him like this, can I? A horrible, sinister part of me toys with the idea of going back to bed and pretending that I didn’t hear anything, I mean it’s not my problem is it? But I can’t just leave him out there! It’ll get really cold. He’ll pass out and catch hypothermia or something. Sighing, I grab my keys and pull on my boots and some sweats over my pyjamas.
“Are you ok?” I ask him, poking him with my toe. He looks up dazedly. I can’t see any signs of blood, that’s a good thing I suppose. “Why did you do that for?”
“You wouldn’t let me in!” He says accusingly.
“What is wrong with you?” I ask as I take a seat on the grass besides him. “When I said please go away and leave me alone, you heard please head-butt my building? What kind of person does that?”
“A desperate one!” He takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose. “You wouldn’t have remembered me in the morning. I don’t know your name. I had to do something!”
I don’t say anything in response. I can’t really think of anything to say. I feel very flattered that he’s showing this level on interest based just on my looks. It doesn’t happen that often but at the same time I am wary. Like I have mentioned before I don’t fancy being the object of this guy’s affections until he gets bored. I fall for people far too easily. Especially ones as good looking at this one. I don’t want to be around for when the beer goggles wear off and he realises what I actually look like.
“So I think I deserve to know your name now,”
“Oh you do, do you?”
“Rapunzel?”
“Excuse me?”
“I climbed a great tall tower to get to you. Well tried to. And it’s technically a tower block not a tower…”
“It’s not Rapunzel,”
“Sleeping Beauty?” He’s eyeing up my pyjamas peeking through my sweats.
“Close,” I laugh. “Rachel.”
“Rachel.”
He changes position so he is leaning against the building. He stretches his legs out, crosses his ankles and nods as though I have said something very profound. We sit in silence for a while.
“Why do you hate you life?”
“Do you actually care? Or are you just making conversation?”
“Why are you so prickly and defensive? I asked didn’t I? Obviously I want an answer.” He says sharply. I feel a little ashamed. He is only trying to be nice, I suppose. I should give him a chance.
“Sorry. I don’t really hate my life. It’s just, you know…ok…do you know what it’s like to have a friend who is beautiful and popular and fun and outgoing and perfect? A friend who is handed everything to them on a silver platter? A friend who never has to work for anything? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love her, I lover he to pieces and she is a good person, she deserves good things. But sometimes I just think, why not me? Why can’t I have any of the things she gets?”
“We’re talking about the scary girl, yes? I wouldn’t say she’s a good person…”
“She was only angry at you because you bumped into me. She was looking out for me.” I laugh and elbow him in the ribs. He grimaces and rubs his side. Ok, maybe in my eagerness to touch him, I got a little over excited.
“She doesn’t get everything does she? I didn’t follow her home, did I? I didn’t choose to bump into her. I chose you. And trust me, I’m a catch,” He says and I laugh again.
“Oh, are you now? So much of a catch that you thought the best way to get introduced was to throw your drink at me?”
“Hey, cut me some slack, I’m out on a limb here. Spilling my heart and soul to you. And yes, I know I am drunk and I have only just met you and you hate cheese but I want to get to know you, Rapunzel.”
“Don’t be such a girl,” I say dismissively. “Tomorrow you won’t even remember me and its Rachel not Rapunzel, remember,”
“Ouch.” Henry winches at my words. “Fine don’t believe me, but I will come find you tomorrow, I promise.” He pushes himself up off the ground and brushes himself down. He holds out his hand and pulls me up too. “Oh, and as for your friend, she is nothing compared to you,”
“Now you’re just talking crazy,”
“In my eyes anyway.” He waves and walks off.
I laugh to myself and go back upstairs to my bed. I have several messages from Catherine telling me how sorry she is that I have had to go home. She promises to kick the culprit if she sees him again. I smile fondly at the messages. I meant what I said to Henry. She is a good person, I love her, she’s my best friend. I wouldn’t stick around if she wasn’t. Even though she is out there making thousands upon thousands of new friends, I know she’ll come back to me. She has too. Tomorrow we’ve got to go and register with the doctors, the day after we have to register at university on our courses. Catherine will have no idea how to do that. She’ll get flustered and panic and fill out the wrong forms. Only I’ll be able to help her. She needs me.