Don't Come Looking by AJ Campbell (top 100 novels of all time TXT) 📕

Half an hour to go.

She didn’t reply, but at three minutes to nine, the funds appeared in the account I had set up for her transfer. Why do some people like to play so close to the edge? Especially when falling off comes with such dire consequences.

Today, I take my final exam. That’s it. I will never sit another one in my life. I won’t need to.

‘Coming for a beer?’ Susie asks, afterwards. I like Susie. Not many others do. She’s one of those unfortunate teenagers with acne and a squeaky voice, and people bitch about her behind her back, mimicking the way she speaks and calling her volcano face.

Why do such nasty people exist in this world?

If it weren’t for Susie, I wouldn’t have had any competition during my secondary education. So, for that, she deserves my time. She sailed close to my results many a time. Not that she ever managed to steer past me. I never let her.

‘Sure, why not?’ I reply. I have spent seven years with most of these individuals, after all. Is Susie blushing?

A group of us laugh and joke our way down to the Bricklayer’s Arms – a pub where the upper sixth sometimes hang out in the evenings. You can feel the relief in the laughter of sixth formers officially done with school. Walking straight to the bar, I remove a card from my wallet and order the first round.

‘That’s very generous of you, Luke,’ a voice whispers in my ear as I shove my credit card into the terminal. ‘Come into some money, have we?’

I swing around to see Robbins sneering at me, his jaw tense and nostrils flared. Winking, I offer him a drink.

‘I’m not that desperate,’ he says. ‘Watch yourself, boy. Just watch yourself.’ He punches my upper arm before wandering off to speak to some of his students.

I rub my arm.

Slightly perturbed, I scan the bar. Where is Chelsea? She made a swift exit after the exam, but surely she is here if Robbins has made an appearance. I can’t see her. Shame. It would be fun to wind her up one last time too. ‘One more pint of lager to add to the bill, please,’ I say to the barmaid, smirking because I know Robbins drinks ale. I even deliver it to him in person, thanking him for being such a fantastic, generous teacher. Seems rude not to.

‘Where’s Harry?’ Susie squeaks.

I stare at her. Her hair is greasy. No wonder she has so many spots. ‘Gone home. He has an exam tomorrow.’

‘Of course. Final history paper. I remember him saying. What’re you doing for the summer, Luke?’

‘This and that,’ I mumble, turning my stare to Robbins, waiting for him to look back at me so I can wink at him one last time.

‘We should meet up.’

‘Maybe.’

‘I’m working in my dad’s accountancy firm to save up for uni. What is “this and that”?’

Thankfully someone shouts out, ‘Who’s for another?’ as, simultaneously, someone hands me a pool cue saying, ‘Your turn,’ saving me having to explain “this and that” to Susie. I wouldn’t want to lie to her.

I only hang around for one game and one more beer. Far more than I usually drink. Unlike this lot, I have plans to put into action, a new life to start. After solemn vows to stay in touch and a final wicked wink for Robbins, I bid them all the best.

Arriving home, I knock together a fry-up, with hash browns and sausages. I even find some black pudding and mushrooms at the back of the fridge. I need something to negate the effect of the two pints from the pub earlier. I shouldn’t have gone, but it was the last time I was going to see that lot; besides how could I resist one final dig at Robbins?

I savour my meal as I flick through all the deals I have been monitoring the past month. Some of them are no longer valid, or the flight times unsuitable, so I go to my room and carry on searching until I find one leaving early tomorrow morning.

Perseverance, that’s all it takes.

Doubt writhes into my thoughts, clenching my fists, shortening my breath, and I have to give myself a little pep-talk. Last-minute nerves can’t sabotage plans at the final hurdle. I won’t let them. I take the leap and confirm the booking.

The beginning of my new life.

I go to pack. What to use? I don’t want to be seen rolling a large suitcase down the drive. I need to be more discreet. So I opt for a backpack Mum bought me for a school trip last year. A stream of emotion ripples through me. A thickness coats my throat. What’s got into me? Is this guilt? Surely not. Fear more like. ‘You’ve got nothing to be fearful of, Luke,’ I say out loud. ‘Your plans are rock solid.’ They are too. I’ve been working on mapping out the next stage of my life practically twenty-four-seven for a long time now.

I don’t pack much – I don’t need to – only sufficient clothes to see me through until I land. It’s summer over there now, and I intend to treat myself to a whole new wardrobe. No one deserves it more. I load my toiletry bag, plug adapter, phone, laptop and charger and some books.

That’s it. I’m ready to go. I carry the backpack downstairs. At the front door, I debate whether to take one more trip to the loo. Yes? No? I decide, yes – don’t want to go getting caught short on the journey. I’m taking a pee when I remember the other laptop. I knew there was something. How could I forget? I haven’t finished with that bloody thing yet. Concentrate, Luke, concentrate. Too much going on. My flow stops to the sound of my mother’s voice. Here we go, the Monday morning alarm call of my life.