Chapter Two

Two Years Later

As Sam left that bus outside University for the first time he felt physically sick to his stomach.  There were people all around him.  Students pushing and shoving each one with the same intention, to get into class for the very first time and make some friends.  Everyone seemed so excited and Sam felt left out because he didn’t feel the same way. 

He hadn’t wanted to go to university.  He was fed up of being taught; he hated school and anything like it.  He had left his secondary school after his attempt to kill himself.  His mom and dad pulled him out and sent him to a private school, they couldn’t afford it and he didn’t want to go but they insisted and he met their demands.  It was the least he could do, or so he told himself.  It was a good school, the bullying was minimal and he managed good GSCE’s and surprisingly good A Levels.  He had never told anyone about the incident with Kirk, when the paramedics managed to save his life he told everyone the bullying was getting to him but he refused to elaborate.  He couldn’t.

When he got his A Level results his mom put more and more pressure on him to continue his education, she wanted the best for him and he knew that.  Sally also wanted him to go to university.  She had ideas of him becoming some super rich hot shot business man that would buy her a large house and allow her the six kids she wanted. 

So Sam went along with it and here he was on a cold, wet and windy October morning, surrounded by over excited, spotty, smelly students.  He had no idea what was in store for him but he couldn’t have been more scared.

As he walked up to Block E, the huge gray building seemed to envelope him and heighten his anxiety.  It was not a nice university, huge, dark, black and ancient.  He felt sick as he walked through the double doors, the smell of classrooms and school smacked him the face, almost winding him.  His stomach did summersaults.  His breathing grew fast and rasping.  His head began to pound and he knew an anxiety attack was coming.  He was about to turn around and leave the building, go home and pretend he had never agreed to this.  Then he heard a voice say, ‘are you looking for the English degree room mate?’  Sam stopped and looked up, his eyes meeting those of a gangly chap around his age with thick specs perched on his bird like nose.  Is he talking to me?  Sam thought to himself.  There was no one else around.  He was definitely talking to Sam.  ‘Erm… yeah.  Yes I am’.  A broad smile appeared on the gangly kids face as he held out his hand, ‘I’m James, pleased to meet you’.  It took some time but eventually Sam reached out and took his hand.  James shook it warmly and with vigour, and then in dawned on Sam that his anxiety had passed.

University was where it all changed.  Sam grew close to James quickly, and they met some other friends during Fresher’s Week.  There was Jane, a plump but jolly girl with long unkempt hair that looked like something the Jackson 5 had grown and given away in a competition and then there was Sara who was tall and beautiful and intelligent and Sam had no idea why she hung around with what, at best would be described as the Adams Family on steroids.  They were an odd group, but then that’s what university is all about.  For the first time in as long as he could remember Sam had a group of friends that actually liked him and wanted to spend time with him.  He had never felt so good.

Things were going well.  He felt happy.  He loved life again and was glad to have been given a second chance.

Then in the third month of term they were all sat at the back of the class waiting for the lecture to begin, laughing and joking about something geeky like Star Wars or Star Trek when the lecture room door opened and in walked the new boy.

As he entered to room the air seemed to leave.  He was tall, around six foot, he was dark skinned and he was broad, the tight white shirt bulging around his Pecs and thick arms.  A pair of sun glasses sat on his perfectly manicured head.  Sam couldn’t help but stare and as their eyes met his heart simply stopped beating.  The new boy smiled a cheeky grin and Sam blushed and looked away.  ‘Don’t sit by me, please do not sit by me’ was all that went through his mind, over and over and over again.  He held his eyes tightly shut praying for a miracle as he felt him brush past his chair and sit next to him.  Sam opened his eyes and risked a look.  He smiled and introduced himself as Liam in the thickest Irish accent Sam had ever heard.  It was game over.

Sam found Liam captivating.  Not only was he gorgeous.  Not only was he Irish.  But he was a really nice person and Sam just wanted to spend more and more time with him.  At first the group would go to the cinema together, or spend a night out clubbing, always the five of them, no more and no less.  Sam would get home and all he could think about was Liam, what he was doing, who he with, how he was feeling, what CD he was listening to.  He had no time for Sally, she would sit in his bedroom and he would just watch her lips move but non of the boring drivel she was speaking was heard, he just learnt to nod at the right time and throw a few ooh’s and ahh’s in to keep her placated.

‘Sam!  Are you even listening to me?  Sam’.

He hated himself for how he felt and how he was acting.  The old ugly head was rearing itself again and Sam needed to not feel like this.  He had suppressed it for so long and he didn’t want to let it come out again and destroy his life.  So he did what he always did and buried his head in the sand.

A week later he got a text from Liam saying;

Come over I need to tell you something, it’s important :)

He decided to ignore him, it was coming up to the Christmas holidays and he would have four weeks off from uni.  He needed to keep away from Liam and this was the perfect opportunity to do just that.

Liam sat at home alone.  He had just got in from the perfect date with a girl called Jo, she had kissed him and asked to see him again and he couldn’t have been happier.  All he wanted to do was tell his best mate Sam all about it.  He sent the text and lay back awaiting the reply.

Liam had had a good life.  His mom was an Irish Catholic, his father an Italian immigrant who had moved to Ireland looking for a better life.  Cosmo Cachetta had wooed Mary O’Keefe with one wink of his big brown eyes and they had married just three months later.  They had three children, Julie, Liam and Shane and they moved to England when Liam was seven to start there own business, a small but charming Irish/Italian restaurant in Birmingham.  It hadn’t been easy at first but they worked hard and eventually the business became a success and Cachetta’s became the place to eat.  Liam had worked weekends and holidays in the restaurant since he was about thirteen and loved it.  He was such a sociable person and he loved meeting new people, ‘he can talk the hind legs off a donkey’ his mother would tell people, always with a smile.

Half an hour passed and he still had no reply from Sam.  Eventually he fell asleep and woke the next day, still no text.  He sent a further three over the next week, each went without response, his voicemails never retuned.