My Beautiful King

Chapter Twenty Six

I chewed my butter-coated slice of toast, grimacing at its bitterly burnt taste. My head really wasn't in it this morning; I'd managed to tumble out of my bed and collide to the floor the moment I woke up, as well as cinder my breakfast to the degree that it simply wasn't edible. I washed down the essence of charcoal with my absolute favourite drink; orange juice. But in my haste, I managed to splutter and choke on a large lengthy gulp.

Wiping the dribble of drink decorating my chin, I got up from the dining room table and moved to the kitchen so I could dump my dishes into the sink. It was simply another agitated morning before school, leading to another demented mission to break down a friendship group and make way for me to claw my way back to the top.

My woollen tights muffled the sound of my footfalls against the tiled flooring. It was 8:15... I needed to hurry my arse out the front door if I was gonna get a good smoke in before school started at 9 o'clock.

Slipping on my patent shoes, I snatched a packet of Skittles from the cupboard for the journey. I approached the front door and slung my handbag lazily over my shoulder.

"Mum?" I called loudly. "I'm off, yeah?"

"Wait!" Her reply echoed. "Why are you leaving so early, sweetheart? I was going to make you lunch-"

"No time!" I interrupted coolly as I opened the front door and took a step outside.

"But Ashley, I was going to make you a nice chicken and bacon sandwich-"

I slammed the wooden entrance shut and made my way towards the rain sodden street corner that I knew my mother couldn't view from her bedroom window.

Hold on, I thought suddenly. Did she say she was going to make me a chicken and bacon sandwich?

Fuck. The things I missed out on for a quick fag.

-x-x-x-x-

"You stink."

"Thanks, Marcus."

"No, I'm serious." Marcus continued, his voice laden with cruel honesty. "I'm about this close to gagging." He created a space of about a centimetre between his thumb and index finger. "Why do you insist on smoking?"

"Strangely enough, Marcus." I muttered lowly as I jotted down the answers for my Maths homework. "I'm not in the mood for a little Q&A."

"Is it because Zayn thinks it's cool?"

I looked up sharply to see if Maho, Ella or Tanasha had heard his penetrating question. Their faces remained ignorant as they continued to chat about their latest Shakespeare related English essay. I clawed my eyesight towards my male friend's vicinity, and glared at his naturally pale face. "Don't test me, Marcus."

"It is, isn't it?" Marcus whispered, eyes gleaming with amusement. "You're still his little bitch-"

"Shut up!" I growled, baring my teeth and narrowing my olive green orbs. "I smoke because it's a habit, okay? And don't give me shit about me being his bitch, when you're so fucking pathetic. Throwing about your hopeless love-"

"Shut it, Ashley Jones!"

"-even though you'll know it'll never be reacquainted! At least I had Zayn-"

"Oh, and he really loved you, didn't he? Or was that just you throwing about the hopeless love?"

"Shut it, Marcus Dodd!"

At one glance, we broke out into a tearful bout of childish giggles. Tanasha and the others only looked up briefly before getting back to their studies. Marcus and I shared a secret cheeky smile, the remains of our tittering lingering in the air.