REVIEWREVIEWREVIEWREVIEWREVIEWREVIEWREVIEWREVIEWREVIEW.

Imma leaving this chapter on a pathetic excuse for a cliffhanger, and if you don’t review, that’s how it will staaay. I don’t care if you want to tell me I suck at writing and need to go and pluck daisies from my nostrils instead then please be my guest. As long as the review figures go up, I’m not fussed.

On a not so much brighter note, is anyone else here totally fed up of being single? The other day my friend decided that I don’t have anyone aliking me because I’m too nice, and people just fall in love with my personality instead of me in general.

I just laughed.

Holla at me.

“Abortion is such a hesitant subject for many people, a horrible way of getting what you want, effectively. Some people consider it wrong, some right. Discuss this in a five hundred word essay for your homework and I’ll be much pleased. In by next Monday, without fail. Come on girls, don’t groan and hiss, it’s summer in about four weeks, you’ve all…

I had zoned out from the snide remarks and demands of my Religious Studies teacher, not being one for listening to the droning subject of endless beliefs and disbeliefs, when in my mind all there was to consider was either being right or being full of bollocks. The heated, sunny afternoon air had taken its dense toll on many of the people in the class, Emma included for once. She had slumped forward on the desk, arms crossed on the table with her head resting on her elbows. All you could see of her was a large mass of golden, Sunsilk adorned hair, which fell over her shoulders with thin wisps adventuring onto my textbook, which lay open on the ‘SEX, Recreational, Right or Wrong?’ page beside her on the table.

“Get a hair cut,” I finally snapped n the general direction of her sleepy figure, clicking out of my daze and joining the other students in shoving books into schoolbags and idly kicking chairs underneath desks.

My life in the school corridors now consisted of hiding myself behind the closest friend or acquaintance, so as not to be spotted by Terry Huntington or one of his lovely friends. This did turn out to be an embarrassment at times, especially when it meant that I mistook complete strangers for acquaintances, and ended up practically bumming a poor innocent year sevens who most likely reported me to the nearest teacher. Emma had switched on the help-a-friend-in-need light bulb in that oversized brain of hers, and she now constantly treated me like a struggling infant rather than a mature young woman (ha), so I was now fuelled by empathy and her over dramatic way of feeling sorry for people.

I normally hated being made a fuss of, especially when people felt sorry for my sad little self, but for once I was holding my head high and instead taking everything in my stride, not caring what anyone thought.

I wondered if anyone else knew.

Had it spread around the school? Did Terry and his friends laugh and snicker about me in their subdued, darkened corner of the sixth form common room? Did the immature friends clap Terry on the back, telling him he was a right laugh, telling him he could probably make any girl feel atop of the world one day, and under the dismal, grey rain the next?

Terry, in fact, had not called me since the night we’d spent together, and also had not made an effort to find me in the corridors, or even walked past me. Was he avoiding me?

Lunch was a dull, boring affair now. I had no reason to leave the classroom and venture around the school with my friends. I felt like I should be kept away from the laughter and jokes of the others; feeling like I had been tainted, as if the clichéd, humorous side of my relationship with Terry had somehow withered away into yesterdays chapter.

“Katy? Katy. Snap out of it, now.”

Emma was clicking her manicured nails in front of my face in an impatient manner.

I shook my head only slightly, and continued the slow process of eating my BLT sandwich, normally a heaven on earth, now just a faint taste on the tip of my tongue. “Sorry…” I mumbled, nibbling into the crust of the bread and lowering my eyes. Emma gave one of those disdainful, sad smiles in my general direction, before giving me a pat on the shoulder and exiting the classroom on her way to the canteen.

I gave a large huff before sinking back in my chair, closing my eyes for a minute while I munched on my sandwich and took a second to relax. Only one lesson left before I could escape the clutches of schoolwork and retreat home for a weekend of blissful nothingness.

“…yeah, the one in sixth form. The gorgeous, tall, well-built yummy one. Terry, I think.”

The name awoke me instantly from my thoughtful dream and I blinked, staring around the classroom which a new, bug-eyed interest.

“Yeah. I wouldn’t say no to him!”

Sluts, I thought, focusing on the two queen bees of our year sat on a desk across the other side of the room, applying make-up. I stared at Selena and Grace with harpy-vision.

Oh god, what does that make me?

I tuned into their conversation slyly, plucking an earphone from Josie’s ear and shoving it into my own, meeting her confused expression with a jolt of the head toward Slut Central and motioning for her to turn the sound down. She raised an eyebrow but obliged, following my example.

“I think he totally likes me,” Grace declared with a tartly smack of the lips, tossing her blonde extensions over her shoulder.

Selena just gave a short laugh; high-pitched, squeaky enough to make some boys debating over maths homework shoot her the bird. She ignored them, carrying on with, “whatever Grace. I heard that…” she paused, gazing around the classroom as if in fear of being overheard. Still, as if her sweeping spy for eavesdroppers had not occurred, she gave Grace gossip in her usual high pitched, irritating tones. “I heard that he came into school the other morning… late.”

Grace looked eager for a minute, before her smile faltered and she reclined away from her friend. “So?”

Selena shook her head, while Josie and I stole a sideways glance at each other. “Apparently he was all embarrassed and shit, and he was all messy and looked totally tired. He wouldn’t tell anyone why, only confided in his best mate, and then got slightly let down when this supposed friend blurted to everyone.”

Grace still failed to enlighten herself.

“He shagged a year eleven.” Selena said finally, pushing her lips forward, as if to say, “and that is that.”

Grace’s jaw dropped, just as Josie’s hand found mine, clenching it tight in comfort.

I rolled my eyes, shaking my head in disappointment of the power of gossip. I was ready to remove the earphone from my ear when Selena opened her mouth again to splurt poison words once more.

“I know! For a second time!”

Josie and I turned to face each other with expressions of shock, and jaws which had dropped completely floorward.

“Last time he got that year ten girl pregnant right?” Grace chirped, leaning in eagerly, “He used her and then humiliated her; bragged to everyone about it too.”

I had a feeling my sandwich would soon be coming back to haunt me.

At home, I found it incredibly hard to focus on the one thing that I needed to escape. My fists slammed down with aggravation on the keyboard, and eventually I ended up with my elbows resting on the keys, my head in my hands, my thoughts having wandered away to another far-off state of mind.

I was disappointed – wasn’t my first time meant to be my best? Wasn’t having a boyfriend meant to give you one of the most beautiful feelings there is for a girl to feel? Being high up in the clouds and knowing that you’d never rather be anyone else, because you’re lucky enough to have a special someone? My expectations were not quite as I had hoped; Terry had not called me and now there was gossip spreading around about me. Not that anyone knew it was me.

And he’d slept with another girl, a year younger than myself in fact, and gotten the poor kid pregnant? I was beginning to see repetition in motion; though the only side effect from having spent the night with him was feeling completely and utterly depressed.

I stood up from my squishy chair and stretched out slightly, squinting in the last few weak rays of afternoon sun that shone through my window. Marching out into the hall, I spied my dad stood in front of the desk mirror, raking his matted brown hair back with a hand, treating his reflection with a wide grin to observe his pearly whites. At my bemused expression and mild cough, he turned on the spot and greeted me with a nervous smile.

“Katy! Good day at school?” He asked, with a surprising tone of chirpiness.

I shrugged, not in a mood for such gayness in the happy category.

“Have you got any antidepressants?” I answered instead, scratching my head and moving past him into the kitchen.

There was a hesitation.

“Antidepressants? Whatever for?”

“Depression.” I replied glumly, taking a bite out of an apple and munching unattractively.

My father tutted, walking into the kitchen after me and shaking his hair back once more. “Don’t be silly. I need you to cut all that horrible child wit out for the next ten minutes, if its possible for you to find something else to do other than be Ms. Hilarious.”

I cocked my head to a side. “Why?”

And then there it came, the smile and alight in the eyes which made my heart break there and then, a newfound hope which you can only achieve through one sole event.

“I’ve got a date.” He announced, looking rather pleased with himself, planting a hand onto the kitchen counter and leaning to a side,

I would have been happy for him if I wasn’t so jumbled with my own love life, so I just gave him a small smile and looked to the floor.

“Brilliant, dad. Who is sh –

“Deeerriiick?”

My head snapped round to face the door, and my eyes fixed on the keyhole. It took me a second to realise that the high-pitched, tarty squeal which had just resounded from underneath the crack of the door was dads date. Obviously, this was not his first with Ms. Banshee.

I turned to stare at my dad with a confused expression, to see if he was re-thinking his agreement with this woman, but instead of looking embarrassed, he gave the door a look which was reminiscent of the one which Emma had given the new Geography teacher when he admitted he was under thirty and single.

He rushed over to the door with a definite spring in his step, before looking over his shoulder at me with a small thumbs up, and wrenching the door open to reveal mystery woman.

My definition of Ms. Banshee could not have been more perfect. Long, bleach blonde locks which fell over her boobs with a slutty kind of air, a revealing low cut top and denim skirt and an instant flush of perfume which was most obviously eau de cheap-and-tacky-bullshit.

Mustn’t judge on appearances.

However, after giving my father a huge, puckered kiss on the cheek, her eyes turned to meet mine, and the fake smile and glinting eyes vanished.

Her eyes narrowed in contact with mine, and I glared back at her, leaving no room for pleasantries on a first meeting.

“Who is this?” She asked my father in a whiny voice, looking at me and back to my father as if I was an inexpensive piece of furniture.

My father just beamed, looking madly in love, under the bitches spell. “That’s my daughter, Katy.” He turned back to me, his smile, pathetic and showing evidence of being hopelessly captivated by this woman made me feel sorry for him, and I forced a weak grin. “Katy, this is Michelle.”

“Hi,” I droned, fake as a cheese string.

She pursed her lips slightly and gave a nod of her head, though instead of returning the greeting, she rounded on my father.

“You never told me you have a daughter, Derrick.”

Oh really? Brilliant. Now the total of important people to me forgetting I exist has arisen to deux.

My father turned and shot me a ‘sorry’ expression which didn’t quite excuse him, and then uttered to Michelle, “I was saving my life story for tonight, in fact…”

But then I realised I didn’t care.

And I left the room in a state of level headedness, proceeding to my bedroom, grabbing my travel bag and starting to throw random items of clothing inside like a woman on a mission. I put cosmetics together in a small make-up bag and gathered enough toiletries for the weekend.

And then I wondered where I would go.

A shrill laugh from Banshee in the front room switched on a light bulb in my head.