5. Blesk
CHAPTER FIVE
blesk
Elise’s alarm goes off, playing Katy Perry’s “Firework.” My eyes flutter open to the faintly lit dorm room I now call home. Flashes of how last night ended hit me all at once. Konnor walking away without saying goodbye. Me frozen between them, mouth half-open with words that never came out.
Then his dorm room…
I fidget with my sheets.
Erik and I barely spoke on the walk back here this morning when dew was still clinging to the grass and leaves, and there wasn’t a single soul on the gravel path.
His silence was worse than anything. I’d seen that muscle in his jaw working as he frowned ahead. He isn’t settled, and last night isn’t resolved. I can tell.
Part of me wanted to bring up Konnor again, to defend him, to tell Erik to back off.
Now that he’s had a good night’s sleep, felt in control, and made his point, maybe he’ll be reasonable.
I keep replaying the look on my brother’s face, that hint of panic beneath his anger, and I wonder if he’s picking up on things I can’t see.
My brother’s protectiveness has saved me before.
He is always on the lookout for warning signs I don’t notice until it’s too late.
What if he sees something in Konnor that I don’t?
The ‘Konnor character’ Erik described wasn’t the same person who’d made me laugh for over an hour, but maybe I’m the one who doesn’t see clearly.
Trust doesn’t come easily to me. I believe trust has to be earned.
Erik spent years earning it, didn’t he? I wish I could separate his overprotectiveness from my feelings and perspective, but they swirl together until I can’t tell which is real or mine.
Why did I trust Konnor enough to walk away from The Grill with him in the dark?
I practically lunged at him when he said he’d leave me alone.
Was it his grin I trusted, or something else?
It was seriously out of character for me to go off with a stranger…
Reaching for my phone, I check the time: 9:00 a.m. Luckily, I don’t have class until three thirty. My eyes move to the notifications: missed calls and two messages, all from Erik whom I only left four hours ago.
The first one reads:
Erik: I’m sorry about last night, Blesk. I freaked out when I couldn’t find you. I’ll talk to you after class today.
And the second:
Erik: Please pick up your phone, so I know you’re okay.
His name suddenly flashes again. My thumb hovers over the screen. Then I press “decline” and toss the phone onto my pillow, where it lands face-down.
I groan, curling around my stomach. There is something gnawing in the pit of my belly—deep and indescribable. I try to ignore it. My mind wanders through all the things I have to do this first week of uni. Find my classes. Hire books or hunt down second-hand ones. Find coffee.
Rolling over to face the room, I watch Elise click her alarm off, then look at me. I divert my eyes, gazing at the rug between our beds.
“Hey,” she murmurs sleepily. “You okay? You didn’t come home last night. I was a little worried because my mum said we need to look out for each other, and I thought maybe you’d been kidnapped or something or… But you’re here. When did you get in?”
Her messy bed hair is adorable in a loose bun, and her eyes look even bluer without her glasses. I shuffle further under the covers. “This morning.”
“Wanna talk about whatever has you all…” she asks, tucking her hands under her cheek, her eyes scanning my face. “I don’t know. You look wrong.”
“I look wrong?”
She gestures vaguely towards me, circling her finger in the air. “Like your face.”
“Thanks,” I huff a laugh.
She sits up, shaking her head. “No. I mean you look like there’s something wrong. Like when something is just off with someone, but you can’t put your finger on what it is. Like that.”
Her words and their meaning hit me in the face like a snapped guitar string. “Wait… You can see that there is something off with me?”
“Yep.” She nods once, firmly.
Speechless, I blink at her. This feeling, the off feeling, is invisible, I thought. It has to be. It has to be because it has gone unnoticed by the people who love me the most. Gone completely unnoticed to the point I didn’t believe it was an actual feeling.
“I’m a good listener,” she adds.
Given our previous conversations, with her yapping and me smiling awkwardly, that statement seems funny. “I’m sure you are, Elise.”
She gives me a sad half-smile. “Is it about a boy?”
It’s about two.
Sighing, I roll onto my back, facing the foreign white ceiling. And I’m silent for too long apparently, because she doesn’t wait for a reply. “Well, I’m here if you ever need me,” she says adamantly. “Wanna go to the showers together?”
I look at her without moving my head. She is pulling back her pink sheets and moving across the room. I watch her collect her toiletries, the way her shoulders slump slightly as she arranges them and grabs a towel.
Her eyes flick towards me, then away, like she’s imagining us dancing around the room in pyjamas, sharing secrets about crushes between midnight snacks.
The kind of friendship that exists in coming-of-age movies.
The kind I have never had because I was never allowed to go to sleepovers or host sleepovers.
I wish I had it in me to be that girl for her.
Maybe I do.
Maybe I can.
Sitting up in bed, I push my blue cotton blanket down to my thighs and rub my face back to life with both palms. I haven’t slept at all. I glance down at my kitten-print nightgown, tracing the patterns with my fingertip. I was in such a daze this morning that I don’t even remember putting it on.
My dad always tells me I dress younger than is customary for my age.
My excuse is that I’ve been denied a fair amount of fashion development, so my defining trend is yet to be established.
The truth is, we had little money while I was growing up, and I already felt like I should take less.
Less than what was offered. Less than what was in front of me.
So, I shopped at second-hand clothing stores.
I got quite good at finding gems, really.
Elise suddenly stops by the door, bending to pick something up off the floor. “Blesk,” she gasps. “There’s something here for you!”
“What’s it say?” I slide off the bed and wander over to her, my cheeks heating up as I read the note over her shoulder.
Blesk,
I hope I didn’t get you into too much treble.
Good news is, the bar is so low now, Erik just guaranteed you at least a distinction.
All you have to do is show up, and I’ll be imp??
And, hey, now I know a harmonica player that I like.
K
My heart swells.
“Why is trouble spelt like that? And what’s that little shape?” Elise asks, handing me both the note and a little black rectangular box.
I read the note again. And a third time because it keeps getting cuter. My teeth catch my bottom lip, but I can’t stop the smile that breaks through, anyway.
“It’s a music joke. Treble, like trouble,” I explain, pointing to the rest symbol. “And imp-rest, like he’s impressed.”
“He?” Elise’s eyes widen. “Who’s ‘he’?”
I blush. “Konnor.”
She bounces on her toes. “What’s in the box?”
My fingers trace the edges before I carefully lift the lid. Nestled inside on black velvet is a silver harmonica, gleaming and perfect and pretty.
My breath catches.
“A harmonica?” Elise leans closer. “You’ve been here less than 48 hours, and guys are already giving you instruments?”
I lift it carefully, feeling its weight.
It’s not a cheap one. How did he manage to get a harmonica between last night and this morning?
I flip it over in my hand and notice a little tarnished patch of metal on the rear side.
It’s his. It’s second-hand. Oh! I practically squeal. I love it even more!
Elise is staring at me expectantly. So, I explain about the gig at The Grill, how I don’t like playing with other people, and about Konnor. I leave out the Erik stuff, of course, because it is nothing. Less than nothing.
The harmonica’s sleek silver body cools my fingertips while something inside me glows like embers.
The lady at the admissions desk doesn’t like me, or maybe she doesn’t like the world, but either way, she’s been glaring at me since we walked in here.
It was Elise’s idea to come.
Not mine.
“I’m not a stalker.” I give her a soft smile. “I just have Mr Slater for a class, and I need to find a way to contact him.”
“Is that right?” She scrutinises me from head to toe. “Mr Slater seems to get a fair number of female students needing his”—her bony fingers make air quotes—“digits.”
My stomach turns.
That reminds me of the person Erik described, but… But I bet he doesn’t leave them all notes and musical instruments.
“Mrs…” Elise stands on her tiptoes, leaning across the desk as she reads the name tag pinned to the woman’s cardigan.
“McKenzie,” she confirms, before dropping back to her heels.
“Mr Slater has Miss Bellamy’s wallet. She left it at the bar last night, and he found it.
She plays there on Tuesdays and Fridays.
You can check with the manager. He called her, telling her to pick it up at his place. ”
My eyes widen, but I try to school my expression, and nod along with her.
She is stacking lies like Jenga blocks, and I won’t be the one to take the vital piece.
“Mr Slater gave her his address,” she goes on.
“But she lost it and she doesn’t have any way to contact him.
She has to say goodbye to her terminally ill grandma at the hospital tonight and has no money for a taxi, and she is her only fam—"
Mrs McKenzie’s hand snaps up to stop us from talking. “Alright!” she huffs. “My God, girls.” Glaring at us, she drums her fingers on the desk, once, twice, thinking, before snatching up the phone receiver.
The curly cord stretches as she leans back, never breaking eye contact with me.
Each ring echoes in the quiet office.
Mrs McKenzie’s nails start again.
The receiver crackles. “Yes, hello,” she says. “Did a young lady by the name of Blesk Bellamy work there last night?” Her nails stop as she listens. “Mmhmm. And Konnor Slater was—" She pauses. “Yes, that one.”
She pauses again.
“Mmhmm.”
The receiver lands back into its cradle before Mrs McKenzie leans forwards, punching various keys into her computer, huffing with irritation.
Sneaking a peek at Elise, I bite my lip to suppress a squeal. Her hands are clasped neatly on the desk, not a single bead of sweat visible. She’s a proactive little schemer with a level-headedness that tells me this isn’t her first rodeo.
I definitely like this girl.
Mrs McKenzie looks back up at us and fakes a smile. “Here you go, girls.” She slaps a sheet of paper on the desk and watches as I slide it into my pocket.
“Thank you, Mrs McKenzie. It’s been a real treat spending this time with you.” I giggle through a smile.
Her right brow lifts at my sarcasm, and my cheeks burn. I can’t believe I just said that to a member of the faculty. Sass to family—that’s different. Sass to a woman involved in admissions? Ugh.
“Bye.” Elise grabs my hand and tugs me out of the office and around the corner.
We both sprint down the hall, running on adrenaline and laughing. I can’t remember the last time I laughed like this.
We halt when we reach the quad. Gasping for air between giggles, I clutch my stomach as it spasms.
“I was trying to be so serious, but you... oh my God.” Elise pants while trying to talk through her laughter. “It’s been a real treat,” she quips, mimicking me.
We both slump down onto the grass and look up at a blue sky dotted with thin, fluffy clouds as the wind rustles the tree limbs.
Elise’s head is so close to mine that strands of her hair tickle my cheek.
I notice, but I don’t mind. In fact, I like it.
The last female I remember being this close to was my mum over two years ago.
I curl onto one shoulder to look at her. “You’ve done that before, haven’t you?”
Still breathing heavily, she waves her hand. “P-please my girlfriends back home get gifted instruments every other Monday. I’m always tracking down admirers. ‘Cause that’s what girlfriends do for each other.”
Oh. “Well, I guess...” I flash her my most grateful smile. “I guess I’ve never really had a girlfriend before.”
“So, I guess you’re going to that guy’s house now?”
“Yeah.” I swallow over a lump of nerves.
“What if something happens?” She pauses. “I have this app, and it tells me where my phone is. I’ll connect you so you can see where I am, and I can see where you are. What do you think? Just us. No one else.”
I nod. “Okay.”
“Girls have to look out for each other.”
Beyond Elise, something large moves in a tree, but when I squint at it, it’s gone, leaving only a rustle of limbs and leaves.
That’s when I notice three café chairs just to the left.
They are outside a small window, beside a door with vertical strips of plastic swaying in the breeze—to keep the flies out when someone enters.
Find coffee.
Tick.
“Want to go grab a coffee?” I ask. “I will admit that caffeine is a vice of mine.”
“I love that you think that counts as a vice.” Elise laughs, jumping to her feet. “Coffee is oxygen, I don’t care. And nicotine is actually good for you in small doses.”
I stand up, brushing grass off my shirt. “Well, you can tell me all about it over coffee, and then we can go grab a pack of cigarettes and connect our phones so we can stalk each other.”