An eighteen year old member of the citizenry of Blackrock, by the name of Logan Matthews leaned against the garden wall of his habitual residence. His gaze perused the street his abode was situated on, taking in every minute detail. They passed over the weeds poking through cracks in the pavement, the small puddles dotted about the road, the cat which lay asleep on a neighbour’s wall, the cars belonging to the other inhabitants, and all else present.
His thumb flicked down on the lighter in his right hand and a flame sprouted up. Logan did not partake in the habit of smoking; he simply had a fondness for fire. Some saw it as a negative trait, claiming it would only lead him to trouble. Others accepted it as a habit, and we are all in possession of habits.
Letting the flame die with a sigh, Logan moved back inside his home. He trudged up the staircase and entered the bathroom. Moving to the mirror, he stared into its depths. A slim figure in possession of wavy black hair stared back with sharp, piercing blue eyes. Logan was not a particularly strong build of frame, his body leaning more toward an athletic style. He splashed water from the sink over his face and watched in the reflective glass as it trailed down his skin, droplets accumulating on his chin and falling back to the white porcelain. A droplet ran from his left eye down his cheek and fell to join the rest of the water; lending the appearance that Logan was crying.
Casting his thoughts forward to the following day; Logan wondered if this one would be much better than the last. For four years, their family had been relocating as his father received new jobs. Seven change of houses in four years was not the most pleasant experience, as Logan had discovered. Having to start over in a new school, knowing no one, was tough. And it would all begin again the next day. Maybe it would be slightly easier this time as it was the first day back after summer holidays. But somehow, Logan doubted it would.
“Logan!... Dinner is ready!” his mother called from downstairs.
“I’ll be down in a minute!” Logan called back. He stared at his face a moment longer, and the towelled his face dry. With heavy footsteps, he made his way downstairs and into the kitchen dining room. His parent’s and younger sister Chrissie, aged thirteen, sat at the table. A steaming hot plate of spaghetti bolognaise sat in front of Logan’s vacant seat, which he took.
Idly twirling strands of spaghetti around his fork, Logan stared absently into space, trying to source some form of appetite. His mother noticed his lack of food consumption as she leaned across and touched his hand.
“Logan dear, why don’t you eat something? It’s not going to do you any good if you don’t”.
As Logan struggled to think of an adequate reply, his father stepped in.
“Maria dear”, he addressed his wife, “the boy is fine. I’m sure it’s merely nerves at having to start over again in another new school. Son, I know it’s hard, our constant moving about, but you must try and not let it get you down”. Logan nodded.
“But Maurice”, Maria stared at her husband, “he must still eat. Otherwise he may become weak and faint. It could be detrimental to his health”.
“He knows that dear. Leave him be”. Rather than sitting there listening to his parents’ discussion about his eating habits, Logan rose and left the table. He made his way up to his room, his worries about the following day deepening. If his parents noticed how he hated the relocating, it must have been blatantly obvious.
He fell back onto his bed, sprawling on the Liverpool bed-sheets. He stared at the ceiling, wondering if he could not just disappear into it and escape from the difficulties of life. But he knew that such a feat was impossible. He heaved a sigh and closed his eyes. Images blasted his vision; possible courses tomorrow could follow, possible situations he might find himself in, and a variety of other images.
A knock came on his door and Chrissie entered. The girl slowly walked over to Logan’s bedside and sat on the edge, staring at her brother.
“You’re really afraid of starting again aren’t you?” she asked. Logan nodded his acquiescence with her statement. “There’s no need to be really, Logan. Think of it as an adventure, as if you were stepping into the unknown. In a sense, you are. It will all be unfamiliar to you, but it’s your job to contend with that, and overcome any obstacle that faces you”.
Logan sat up and looked his sister in the eye. She was so mature for her age, and had these remarkable insights into things which should be beyond her comprehension. He pushed himself up and hugged her.
“You’re welcome”. With that she got up from the bed and left his room. Logan returned to his musings. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad after all.