Leaving London

Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Six

"Why don't you go outside, get some fresh air? You've been in here for days, Fearne." Mum states, concerned, yanking open my curtains and letting bright splodges of light pool over my cranky face.
"Maybe later." I reply, turning away from the window and catching sight of my alarm clock which reads 11 am. I should probably get out of bed, make myself some breakfast and soak up some sunlight in the garden. But instead I've been camped out in my bed for the last three days, deciding that pyjamas are easier than bothering to show my face outside of my house. It's not that I'm just particularly upset about my friends leaving, I mean that's a part of it, but without them the house just feels so lonely and dismal and I'd rather burrow under my sheets than attempt to convince everyone I'm fine. They all messaged me once they were back at Heathrow airport amongst a clutter of post-stamp sized WHSmith's and tourists, thanking me once again for a wonderful holiday. Alfie hasn't been online for me to contact him again, although Mum phoned Mr Dawson yesterday and it appears that his wife is slowly improving in her condition.

Apart from that, I haven't seen anyone else around, mainly due to the fact that I haven't actually stepped outside of the sanctuary of my room unless I need to go to the bathroom. Lara's now on holiday in Australia, and judging by the photographs she's uploaded onto her Facebook page, it looks like she's having an amazing break - white beaches with crashing baby blue waves in the backdrop, leafy forests and furry koalas guarding leaves and shoots whilst wrapped around tree trunks. I've not heard anything from Olli either, although I thought I heard him yesterday morning outside, so peeled back the blind to see him lounging around the pool with Jake. That was just another reason for me to stay locked up in my room. Mia's been ignoring me of course, but it appears that she hasn't let my 'betrayal' affect her social life - from her social media it's obvious she's been meeting up with Paige and crew almost every day: cheering on Maegan at her athletic trials from the side-lines, shopping with Paige, baking sessions with Riley, whilst I've been flicking between three apps on my phone and demolishing two tubs of cookie-dough ice cream. Who cares about Alfie or Olli, the only two guys I need in my life are Ben & Jerry.

It was difficult saying goodbye to my friends for the second time, but this time it was them leaving and not me. I hugged them all, reminded them I'd try and visit England sometime soon and that was it. They walked away onto that plane, wriggling their fingers desperately as they climbed up the ramp and then they were gone. Again.

∞

A week later, surprisingly after I refuse to do nothing more than lope around the house and stay in my pyjamas, my parents decide that I should be capable of focusing my free time on schoolwork. They propose the idea that I should get a tutor, to help polish up on last year's school work, as although I covered most of it in London, the New Zealand exam criteria is different and some sections I've missed.
"So, we've rang around a few local agencies and we've found someone who's happy to come here every Wednesday and Friday for the next three weeks for three hours in the afternoon." Mum informs me upon arrival in the kitchen after being called down for lunch.
"But-"
"There's no buts, Fearne," Dad states firmly after placing a carton of juice in front of me, "You have your exams coming up at the end of this year and you've already skipped one year of exam work here."
"So? Just keep me behind a year I don't care." I mumble sourly as I load sandwich triangles onto my plate.
"Fearne, stop it. There's some cucumber here, I want you to eat some - no, leave some crisps for everyone else." She pushes a tray of the green sliced vegetable towards me.
"So what's this tutor called then?" I scowl through a mouthful of food.
"She's called Mrs Baines and she used to teach at your high school. She's helping with all your subjects, some more than others and you're booked in with six sessions."
"Fine," I roll my eyes, "Is she expecting me to get changed out of my pyjamas? I told you, they're comfy-"
"-Yes, you're going to be fully showered and dressed so you can concentrate. No more loping around the house." I kick my legs, making them skim over the tiled floor as I stare out of the window into the sun-draped garden. Suddenly it seems a lot more inviting than the next three weeks of schoolwork.
"But what if I wanted to arrange stuff on those days?"
"You still have another five days in each week. Quit moaning. Your first lesson is tomorrow from one until four."
"Great." I breathe inaudibly under my breath. This sounds like fun. Trust my parents to spoil the rest of my holiday and make me spend three hours twice a week going over boring school stuff when I could be enjoying myself or relaxing.