Oblivion

Chapter 4

“Grace?” There's a tap on my shoulder. “Honey, are you asleep?”

I blink a couple of times, lifting my head, the sights and sounds of the lecture hall around us slowly come into focus. Yawning, I rub my eyes with the back of my hand.

Right, I’m in Economics, and I should be listening to Professor Hallowell’s sermon on international trade.

“Have you been getting enough sleep? You’ve been sort of spacey all week,” Violet prods, concern clouding her dark eyes.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Another yawn escapes.

Her gaze remains for a moment, doubting me, but she let’s it slide, turning to capture Hallowell’s latest revelation on paper. I pick up my pen, meaning to do the same, but I know it’s useless.

 I’m not fine; I’m drowning.

“Miss Davies? Tell me the name of the country with the highest GDP.” Professor Hallowell’s voice cuts through the room like a hot knife through butter.

 “Um, I-I don’t know.” I glance down, futilely checking the lined paper for notes I know I haven’t taken.

She clucks her tongue in disapproval, before replying in a curt tone, “Perhaps if you weren’t catching up on sleep during class, you would.” She stares at me for another moment before looking away, a time meant for me to wallow in self-loathing.

“Such a tart,” Violet mutters under her breath.

“The answer is the U.S.”

I know the speaker by her voice: American, and dripping with self-satisfaction. Even from several rows up, I can see the sneer she aims at me as though she was sitting beside me. Alexis Pearson, the girl who stole my boyfriend, letting me know she’s won again. As always, I’m left wondering exactly what it is we’re competing for.

“Thank you very much, Miss Pearson. It’s bolstering to know that you, at least, have read the material.” 

Alexis gives a demure nod. 

“Oh look, another one. Let’s have a bake-sale,” Violet deadpans.

With a heavy sigh, I let my head fall to the desktop.  

I can’t focus on anything. In class, I only catch snippets of the lectures, which makes my assignments that night even harder. It’s like trying to put a puzzle together when half of the pieces are missing. I spend almost the entire night attempting to sort it, only to fall asleep during school the next day.

I can’t go on like this.

“Don’t worry about it, Grace. You’ll get back into the swing of things,” Violet assures me, rubbing my shoulder. 

Maybe, maybe not.

“So . . . when are you getting your mobile back?” she asks, trying to change the topic to something innocuous.

 “After class.” 

“From? You never told us the name of the lucky guy.”

Her eyes are glittering with anticipation. Though gossips is one of Violet's favourite things, she's never betrayed my trust. I could tell her about Harry, but then I’d have to explain other things, too. Like, why I went back to the club without her and Greg.

Originally, it was Violet’s idea, a little drinking, a little dancing, and a lot of distraction. She thought it would be the perfect way to loosen me up. Unfortunately, I took things too far that night, getting blackout drunk on vodka cranberries. Neither of them could blame me. It was the only thing that made the pain stop.