Five.

written by Devin Davies

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Five.

That's how many times she looked at me. She was brief.

Three hundred and forty seven.

That's how many times I looked at her. I was not brief.

I guess you could say I like numbers.

Seventeen.

That's how old she was. When she died.

Eight.

That's how many days she's been dead. I'm counting.

I guess you could say I like her.












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Hello. Yes... Hello, that's probably how I should start this. This
is not a diary. Sometimes when I have nothing to do, I sit, and I
think. That is what this is. Nothing more than my thoughts.
Brief, useless thoughts.

Will.
William Black.
That's my name. It's boring.
Like me.

Clara.
Clara Ballentine.
That's her name.
It's perfect.

Was. She was. Now she isn't, she's nothing more than a
thought. Like this.










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One.

That was the rst time she looked at me. I had just walked in
the room. Everyone was looking. I counted it anyway.

Up until this point, no one had noticed me. It seemed that in
order to get noticed, you either had to be really loud or do
something stupid. Obviously, I chose the latter. Well, chose is
a strong word. The latter was thrust upon me, due to a
substandard upbringing. I never had a father, or at least not
one that paid any attention to me. My mother was acceptable,
but only ever acceptable. Thats about as much detail I want to
give. Its not a touchy subject, I just prefer not to think about it.

Normally when I enter a room, my presence does little but
upset the dust. But after what had happened previously, I was
naive in my expectations. The whole room shifted its angle to
face me.

Before we go into detail about my grand entrance, a brief
rundown of what happened is necessary.

For most people, going to the bathroom is a fairly standard
task. But apparently the forces of life have some beef with me.
Achieving a task as menial as this? No way. I had just
completed my bodily duties, and never being quite sure of
what bacterial diseases I might have collected from the toilet
seat, I was hasty in my planned exit. What I had not
anticipated was that the cubicle lock had decided not to
release.

I spent seven minutes trying to free the lock. School had
nished a good ten minutes before, so help from another
student was an impossible possibility. With little success from
the door, I sat back on the toilet seat, my mind too full to even
think about the bacteria this time. That's when the re alarm
went off. At rst I assumed it was an accident, but as smoke
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started to seep under the door, I was relatively certain it
wasn't. It took forty four seconds for the room to ll up with
smoke. It also took forty four seconds for me to assume the
worst. I'm good at that, or rather, used to it. I mentally wrote
my will. I didn't have anything to leave, so it was short. The
door crashed open and I heard mufed noises coming from
the other side of my cubicle. Maybe I wasn't going to die after
all, or maybe this was death, coming to get me. Fittingly, it was
at this point I passed out.

When I awoke, I was not dead. Instead, I was lying on the
concrete outside the school, paramedics beside me. I wasn't
worthy of the ambulance parked some metres away. It didnt
take me long to notice the crowd gathered around. It took me
even less time to realise my mistake. In my haste to exit the
toilet before the re started I had not pulled my pants up. My
mind lled with the images of my unconscious body being
carried out of the building. My jocks on full display. I passed
out again, or at least I pretended to.

Everyone was looking when I walked through the door the next
day. A grin featured on everyones face, even Claras. A voice
was quick to say, You remembered your pants today, Willy.
Laughter lled my brain. On the way to my seat, I made eye
contact with Clara, her face still holding the same grin. It lasted
two seconds. She looked away rst, obviously. By the time I
had made it to my seat, life was back to normal, the rooms
focus had shifted, and I was just Will again. That was the rst
and only time I got noticed. Sort of.

I got out my note book, at the top of the page I scrawled a new
title, 'She Looked, a few spaces down, I added the rst count.


I like numbers. Numbers are consistent. In my ever changing
world, they keep me stable. They keep order where there is
none. That's why I count things.
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Two.

That was the second time. we got paired together in History.
Victory.

Up until that point I had never believed in luck, but that History
period Mr Chandler changed my views, although I dont think
that he was aware of it. We were discussing The Cold War
and Mr Chandler was splitting us up into pairs to discuss
points and then as usual report back to the class (a great way
for the teacher to get away with doing absolutely nothing).

I was acutely aware of who had already been paired off and
who hadnt, the odds were in my favour. Then it happened.
Clara and William. It didnt register straight away, the words
hung in the air as more of a question than a statement. Then
they sunk in, party poppers red and someone banged on a
drum, or at least thats how I felt anyway.

She came over and sat next to me. I didnt say anything. In
fact Im not sure how we managed it, but we got through the
whole lesson without saying a single word to each other. We
just sort of wrote, and then she presented back to the class
while I sat there. Smug. Clara Ballentine was my work buddy. I
didnt care if we didnt talk, for a period wed shared the same
piece of paper.

Three.

She had dropped her diary.

It happened shortly after our pairs work. Everyone had left as
soon as the bell rang, so I was left alone to tidy up our circle. I
didn't mind, in fact I enjoy tidying things, that way I'm in
control. Order is at my ngertips. I had plans to rearrange the
whole class room, but as I was shifting chairs something
caught my eye. It didn't glisten or anything, it was just in the
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way. I picked it up and held it in my hands, it was a small soft
leather book, with a blank, light blue cover. I examined it
closely, there was no writing on the outside, just empty space.
The empty space made me curious enough to open it. I turned
the cover and on the rst page my eyes focused on the text.

Thoughts

That's all it said. Just one word. I snapped the book shut,
curiosity scolded me for not reading on, but I knew it wasn't
mine to read. Five seconds passed before I heard her voice,
Oh, you found it." I turned and my eyes stared blankly at
Clara, who had obviously entered the classroom. Still rmly
stuck in thought it took me a moment to shift back into reality.
"Is this yours?" I nally replied, raising the diary. She nodded. I
handed it back to her, curiosity grasped onto the book as long
as it could, but nally gave in, slipping loose. She took the
book in her hands and held it down by her side.

We stood, facing each other, she looked at me as if she
expected me to say something. But I didn't, I should have said
something. I should have asked her about her diary, if she
liked writing, if she had any plans that week or even just how
she was. But I didn't say anything, I just stood there, too busy
trying to script the perfect conversation. She smiled, turned
and left the room. Then I was standing there, alone, still trying
to nd the words.


Four.

It took me a while to accept this one.

A few weeks had passed since the diary incident and Id had
enough time to prepare an appropriate conversation. I had it
written down in the back of my notebook. Now I was just
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waiting for the perfect moment. It didnt come. What did come
wasnt even close to what I was expecting. No one is
expecting death.

It happened one day after school. I was walking towards the
gate to meet my mum. Im often surprised she remembers to
pick me up. She spends enough time acting like Im not there,
but each day shes still ready to pick me up and transport me
home and then immediately get back to her own vapid life,
nishing sudoku and watching reruns of Friends.

I made it all the way to the car before my life changed.
Shattering glass and screeching tyres lled my mind. I let go of
the car door handle and spun around. I already knew what I
was going to see before I saw it. A body, sprawled on the road,
just outside the school. Two seconds passed before I moved. I
recognised the body, how could I not? I ran over, as I moved
the space between us seemed to stretch wider the closer I got
but then I was by her side. Claras side.

She looked up at me, shock and fear spreading across her
face. I didnt know what to do. I heard a voice behind me
already on the phone to the ambulance which left me with
nothing to do except crouch there awkwardly. I fumbled for her
hand and held onto it with mine. If it had been under different
circumstances I would have enjoyed that moment, but there
was no love behind her grip, just fear and uncertainty.
I noticed her diary lying a few feet away, I reached over and
picked it up. Turning it over in my hand I noticed it was badly
scuffed. I put it in my pocket, making a note to give it back to
her later. Then I looked at her again. She was still looking at
me, we stared into each others eyes for twenty seconds, and
then she wasnt looking anymore.

The ambulance took 10 minutes. When it arrived I was swept
to the side momentarily while the paramedics lifted her up onto
a stretcher and then wheeled her into the back of the vehicle.
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Then they turned to me and asked, Are you family? I have no
idea why I said yes, but I did, and a moment later I was riding
in the back of an ambulance with the same paramedics who
saw me pant-less. I could tell they remembered me.

When we arrived at the hospital Clara was rushed off down a
long, empty corridor, and I was very quickly left alone. I'm not
sure what they were planning to do, it was already too late. I
glanced around at a room full of empty chairs. I picked one
and then sat down. I had never felt so alone.

It was an hour before anything changed. The automatic doors
clicked open and her mother walked in, judging by her face,
she already knew. She saw me and came over. "Are you...
were you friends with Clara?" For the rst time I answered
truthfully. "I wish I could have been." I'm not sure how but I
manage to end up in awkward situations all the time. However
this was the worst. I didn't even know Clara, and yet there I
was sitting with her mum pretending to be a part of a family I
didn't even know. It made me feel sick.

Everything moved very quickly after that. The doctors came
and talked to her mum, I didn't listen to what they said. Then
the rest of her family turned up and I hid myself in the corner
trying to be as invisible as I could. They cried. So did I. Then
my mum turned up, and I left, we drove home in silence.
Although it was normal, the silence seemed more intentional.
There was no awkwardness in the air, I could tell she was
trying this time.

We got home and I went straight to my room, it was dark,
although that may have just been my outlook on life. I got out
my note book and icked to the page with the heading 'She
looked.' Underneath were three lines, I got out my pencil and
slowly added a fourth. I nearly didn't count it, I almost felt like I
couldn't, but to let a number go unnoticed would throw off my
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whole system. I lay back on my bed and stared up at the
ceiling, it was blank. So was I.


Five.

That was the last time she looked.

She's been dead for eight days now, I've been counting. I went
to the funeral, but it didnt really mean much, she was already
dead. Wearing black and talking about her for an hour wasnt
going to change that.

Now Im just lying here again, staring up at the ceiling, hoping
to nd the answer to everything hidden in the boring, grey
plaster. I havent found it yet. Although Ive just remembered
something. Its in my jacket pocket. Her Diary, still scuffed. I
opened it.


Todays word: pulchritudinous
which means physically beautiful. I like it because its such an
unattractive word to look at and say, but its meaning is the total
opposite of how it appears.

I think thats a good way of viewing people. From just looking
at them they might seem ugly or pointless, but underneath their
surface they can have beauty and a definition that you would
never understand from just looking. Whats my definition?

I skipped forward some pages

Todays word: Serendipity
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This one means finding happiness by chance. I like the idea of
finding it somewhere you wouldn't expect it, or more poetically put,
happening upon happiness.

I flicked through the notebook until I found the last entry

Todays word: Evanescent
This word means to last a very short time, or just to vanish.
This word to me, sums up life, one moment its there, and the
next were nothing but -
I shut the book hurriedly and threw it on the floor. I couldnt
handle reading it any longer. Suddenly the empty ceiling held
all the answers. I didnt know this Clara, I didnt know her
intelligence, I had never had a chance to. Id spent so long
imagining what my life was going to be, I hadnt given a
thought to what it was. Now it was too late to change anything.
Thats what sucks. The only thing that really exists is the
present, and Id spent so long avoiding it, now there wasnt
anything left there for me either. I have no past and no
present. Now all Im left with is to imagine what could have
been.
The truth is I didnt like Clara, I liked the thought of Clara, and
now thats all she would ever be. A thought.





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