Poison Ivy

V

Ivy

I STRAIGHTEN UP MY tie and blazer in the mirror.

All I know is that dad is around five minutes away and that is enough time to get changed. However, not enough time to get ready. I'd need at least 30 minutes.

Subsequently, my mum wont let me get changed out of the fear that I will disappear upstairs and never come back down.

I can understand why.

Instead I'm now trying to hide the fact that my school uniform is actually my school uniform.

It's not working.

Eh, even if I was in rags, I'd be the best looking person in the room, undoubtedly.

"Ivy! Come help me with this!" Mum yells from the other room.

I give up on my efforts to look any different in this and walk into the dining room.

She's stood on one of the old- or as my parents would say 'antique'- wooden chairs trying to reach the top of the cabinets.

"Would you be able to grab the espresso glasses?"

Espresso? So they're that type of guests. "Yeah sure."

Mum hops down off the chair so I can climb up. At the top of the cabinet is all the alcohol and extra glasses for it. My parents put them there so we couldn't get to it; yet mum's the only who can't reach them.

I feel like that kind of defeats the point?

I grab the four glasses and pass them to mum. "Anything else you want?"

"No, thank you."

She offers me a hand and I take it to get down.

I did not know this room could be tidy. This is usually the 'tip' room or the 'bomb site'.

Instead there is a table cloth with place mats. Candles scattered over the table and the lower parts of the cabinet, the curtains tied in a nice way- not blowing in the wind.

They really care about impressions.

I help with the last of the cutlery whilst I chat with mum about my school term: revision, GCSE mocks and coursework.

We get interrupted by the the door.

She puts a hand on my shoulder before I walk out the room. "Manners, Ivy. Remember to use your manners."

"Sure," I scoff.

I hear Wren thundering down the stairs before he bashes into me.

"You arsehole!"

"Oh, fuck's sake Ivy! You were standing in my way!"

"Then move, you idiot."

Dad clears his throat.

"Children," he says with a forced smile, "meet our guests."