The Fun In Funeral

Chapter II

My mum picks me up, stopping out front of the village hall so everyone can see her. I roll my eyes, climbing into the big blue Vauxhall and fastening my seatbelt.

"How was it?" I shrug.

"No new ankle bracelet. We have to have weekly checkups as well as weekly sessions here and permission to break our probation rules. Home by seven, either at college or home. Must keep our tracking apps on at all times." My mum shakes her head, tutting as she pulls out of the dodgy little car park in Northolm.

"Cara, this is no joke." I know. I'm not having this lecture again. I know hat I'm doing.

When we're on our way back to Ross, I dig through my bag to find my tablets as well as an energy drink to take them with. I shouldn't. But who cares? It won't kill me.

"There's a guy that's kinda nice I guess. I didn't really talk to anyone else. He seems cool." I notice my mums smile and glare at her. "Don't go there. We aren't even friends." She nods, smiling even wider. "Mum!" She starts laughing.

"All I'm saying is I was your age once." I scoff.

"Yeah, you had a pet dinosaur too right?" She rolls her eyes at me, muttering 'cheeky bitch' under her breath. She cranks the volume up as a song she likes starts playing. I do love my mum. She's annoying, a bit of a dick, and fuck me she's got a temper, but she's the only person who's always stuck by me. People say I'm a spitting image of her. It's hard to disagree when old videos of her play and the newest member of the family goes 'is that Cara?'

We share the same coppery brown hair, although mine has a reddish tint from my dads side. We have the same soft features, the only difference being our eyes. My eyes are very much a shock to everyone. Both of my parents have the brightest of sky blue eyes. Most of my family on both sides has blue or brown. My Nan has green eyes, as well as my cousin, but their eyes are like a summer grass green. Mine? Oh no. Mine are like a greenish tinted ocean in a raging storm. Sometimes to look blue. Sometimes to look green. Always to be argued over, but so dark that they almost always appear grey from far away.

We park up in our driveway, still singing bits from the last song that was playing. As I walk inside, I'm met by a furry bundle that slams its paws into my stomach.

"Hey puppy!" I bend down to kiss the top of my dogs head. She's a collie, short haired, with huge brown eyes. I love her to death. "Come on then B." B is short for Bella.

"How was it?" My stepdad asks. Jared is alright I guess. He's been a rock for my mum, but they have their moments where I just want to knock their heads together.

"How you'd expect." I tell him. He nods. "I have to get my stuff together for college." With that, I disappear off into my room. We moved here just before the summer, and while it's nice to be with civilisation again, I'm scared about making friends.

I collect my binders, getting the two in my bag. I took psychology, sociology and English Language at Hartpury. It's a good school, not my place though. I didn't fit in. Plus, I didn't feel comfortable to ask for help mentally. Nothing against them, I just wasn't close with many of my teachers.

I dropped English for this year, and instead I'm going to do a BTEC. Enterprise and Entrepreneurship.

I'm not looking forward to this year. I want to be an author, write the worlds I see in my head. But I have to stay at college. I'll do what I can, but if I don't pass, honestly, I'm not worried.

I look to the teddy on my bed. Simba was given to me at my sixth birthday party. He looks nothing like the animation. He's a realistic toy, just a bit bigger than an A4 piece of paper. I sit on my bed, pulling him into my lap and running my fingers through his mane. When I got him, he was just another toy, although he quickly became my favourite. Then there was that one morning where my parents broke up. He was the teddy I clung to as I cried. Since then, that teddy has just been my biggest source of comfort.

I sit with my back against my headboard, grabbing my iPad and pulling up one of my books. I want to finish writing it. I'm on the final draft and everything. I'm not sure what's stopping me, I just struggle so much. What if people hate my stories? What if I fail as an author? What if my characters aren't relatable? It's just so difficult. And worst of all, what will I do when it's done? This book is 6 years in the making.

Writing, photography and reading were what got me through the last few years. Even then, there's been some tricky spots.

"Cara! We're having fajitas!" I call back a quick okay. I want to slink away into the shadows and hide right now. Everything has just been too much.

Before I can start writing, my phone begins to ring. It's Megan. I sigh, picking it up.

"Am I in trouble already?" I say more monotone than intended. She sighs, clearly done with our groups bullshit already.

"Cara, someone else has been added to your group but he's a case that isn't exactly compatible with the others. According to your files, you're similar in your psychosis symptoms. Would you be willing to do a one on one session with him as well as your checkups and the main group sessions?" I take a second. Someone similar to me? The poor guy can't go into the group yet. I'm only in there thanks to my medication so clearly he's unmedicated.

"I can. What's his name?" She hesitates.

"Kieran." Kieran... I know many Kierans. I don't know any like me though. I don't think I do anyways.

"When do I meet him?" She runs me through the plans. Saturdays mornings for group sessions, Wednesday nights for just me and him, Monday lunchtime for my one on ones.

"He'll be at college tomorrow with you all." So I'll see him tomorrow. Well, this will be fun won't it?