The Mimosa Tree by Antonella Preto Read Free Book Online

closeness.
    At some point a person who looks like they think they know everything stands before us and begins yabbering about negative space, perspective and interpretation. Things I am probably supposed to be listening to, but everything seems to wash around a small, focused tunnel featuring Student-number-eight. The lesson feels like it’s over in minutes, but the wall clock assures me a full hour has passed. Students startfiling out of the classroom like cattle to the next prodding. I half expect him to say something to me, maybe goodbye, but Student-number-eight just grabs his pack and exits with the crowd. For the rest of the morning I watch doors expectantly, but he doesn’t show again.
    At midday, I head to the cafeteria without the help of Felicia’s stupid map. I don’t have to spend much time looking for her. Felicia is bopping up and down and waving at me from a table in the middle of the room like someone drowning. How long is it going to take her to work out that we are not going to be friends?
    â€˜I saved you a seat,’ she says and pats the chair next to her.
    â€˜Thanks,’ I say, and then take a different one instead. ‘Here is fine.’
    â€˜Oh sure,’ she says, and tries to look like she’s cool with it. ‘So, how is your first day going?’
    â€˜Fine.’
    â€˜Meet anyone nice?’
    â€˜I didn’t speak to anyone. I’m going to get some lunch now,’ I say and stand up.
    â€˜Great!’ she says and stands too. ‘I’m starving.’
    Starving girl buys a salad and a black coffee, no sugar. I get a pie and a Coke. Between forkfuls she dabs at the corner of her mouth with a folded serviette. I have tomato sauce dribbling down my wrist and I make slurp noises through my straw. Felicia sips her coffee in small, soundless swallows. Every time I look at her she gives me a little smile. I want to scream why are you here? Why are you even talking to me?
    â€˜So, Via tells me you’ve always wanted to be a teacher.’
    â€˜That’s interesting.’
    â€˜She’s always talking about you.’
    â€˜I can believe that.’
    â€˜From what she says, I think we have a lot in common.’
    â€˜Oh yeah,’ I say with a chuckle. ‘Like what?’
    â€˜We both like music, for instance.’
    â€˜Uh-huh.’
    â€˜And we’re both good at school.’
    I nod. We go to the same university. We are both Italian. We were born in the same city. We are both eating lunch. We are both digesting our food. On and on it goes, but really, she’s just missing the big picture the whole time. We couldn’t be more different.
    â€˜You don’t make it easy, do you?’ she says after a while.
    â€˜I don’t make what easy?’
    â€˜Being your friend.’
    I put down my Coke, wipe my face with the back of my hand because I’ve somehow lost my serviette. I don’t usually waste time explaining myself, but this isn’t really her fault. It’s Via’s. If she hadn’t decided she couldn’t be bothered driving me around anymore none of this would be happening.
    â€˜Look Felicia, you’re a nice person, but I really don’t need a friend my aunt had to organise for me.’
    â€˜Is that what you think this is?’
    â€˜Come on, Felicia. I think you know I’m not stupid.’
    â€˜Nobody asked me to be your friend, Mira.’
    I laugh. ‘I’m sure she made you feel like it was all your idea.’
    She crosses her arms and swivels her knees to the side. ‘I’m not that easily influenced. If you actually tried to get to knowme instead of just assuming what I’m like you’d find that out about me.’
    Oh God. Don’t start crying.
    â€˜You really don’t have to take this so personally.’
    She laughs. ‘Are you kidding? You’ve been rude to me all day and all I’ve been is nice to