All stories have two sides. Meet Rosie Wyatt and Pixie Evans as they tell you the series of events from their different perspectives. It'll leave you on a real cliffhanger!


4. Chapter 3

It's funny how we go through the different stages of life, and each stage forms us into a different person. I wouldn't say I've stayed the same, I've just always had Lauren with me and her personality. Side by side, inseparable.

We became a little less close when I went to high school and college. I always saw her in the mirror, though she never hung around at school. I never saw her. She wasn't in any of my lessons. I couldn't even find her at break or lunch. Which I guess is ok because I hung around with Dusty. Me and Dusty had a lot in common. We both enjoyed English and both failed a sports. In netball, we sat at the sidelines and analysed poems we remembered. Dusty was funny, with her blond hair and her emerald coloured eyes. They always reflected the sunshine and shone like little beads. Dusty was cute, and I admired her. I remember she was warm and bubbly, but she didn't like opening up to strangers. Our friendship started with talking about English, and after that we became more trusting in each other. We usually kept to ourselves, never really acknowledged anyone else's existence through high school. We got top English marks in our class.

In college, we studied English together. It was really fun. We would sit and analyse different novels and poems together, trying to pick out everything. I picked out metaphors, and she used to be great at analysis and investigating the quotes in more detail. I remember the one night when it was heavily raining and thundering. We curled up in our dorm with a flashlight and a pile of books.

"You know, Dust, if I had your brains I would be an author, or a poet, or something. You know, do an English based job for the rest of my life," I said as I reached out to grab another book. It was our shared favourite play, Romeo and Juliet. We had gone through it about a thousand times but it could never get boring.

"But Ro," she whispered in the dark, "you have the brains to do all that already. You could write great thriller novels, with lots of metaphors and plot twists!" Dusty used to be really passionate about how we were better at different things in English, which is why we worked so well together. I helped her pick out metaphors, and she helped me analyse in more detail and pick up evidence.

"You'd be better at that, we all know it." I shrugged my shoulders as I skim-read the pages. The thin paper through my fingers felt so gentle, yet I had to be careful so I didn't cut myself. It happened a lot, but when you're obsessed with English like Dusty and I were, you got pretty used to that.

I don't know what happened to Dusty Evans. I heard she was running community schools to help children with English, helping keen storytellers and giving children a good start in an English career. She's been doing this all whilst writing her very own novel. When we left college, I went to work in an office to earn a little bit of money. Then, I was going to write a novel and direct a movie based on it. I was kind of excited, because Dusty had that plan, so I wanted to do that too. I hoped our paths would cross again. That plan failed, I ended up staying at the office up until now. That's a lot of years to be working in an office. But I loved it there. And like my life, that job is over now.

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