Super Rich Kids

Never to Touch, Never to Keep

Exam Day, December 2013

 

I walked into the living room and was surprised  to see Cassie up, a textbook on the coffee table, plenty of coffee mugs scattered around and blankets on the floor. She looked up at me, her blonde hair falling in front of her eyes, “what are you doing up so early?”

She made me laugh, she knew we both had exams that day and it still surprised me that she didn’t know me at all, “you didn’t go to sleep at all, did you?” I was proved wrong.

I didn’t find the time to go to sleep. So many thoughts kept me up that it was easier to let them run than ignoring them and save them for the next day, “I couldn’t.”

I sat next to her, looking down at the textbook she had opened. She groaned and slammed her pen on the table, the sound echoing throughout the room, “I can’t do this! Why can’t we just not take the exams and still pass?”

I sighed, looking around the room, it was all quite dark considering it was only five in the morning but it should be lighter outside this time of year, “we can’t have everything we want, Cass.”

“You do talk some mysterious shit, you know that, right?” we look at each other, trying to keep a straight face but we both fail and we’re both laughing and lying on the couch, “can you take the exam for me?”

I look down at her, “I have to take my English exam,” and then I remembered that essay I had to write, “fuck,” I sprung out of the couch and ran to my room to get my stuff.

“You going to see Thomas?” Cassie was still sat on the couch; it was like her second home.

“No, we’ll see him after class. I’ll be back, or maybe not, I’ll see you after the exam though.” I waved to her and slung my bag over my shoulder and walked out of the room.

The temperature outside had dropped dramatically and I found myself walking faster, trying not to catch a cold. I arrived a couple of minutes later, hoping he would answer the door; I knocked.

There was no answer but I really needed him, I needed him to help me like he always did for the past couple of weeks. I kept knocking louder and louder each time my fist came in contact with the wooden frame.

“What is your problem?” A sleepy Louis came into view as he slowly opened the door, his hair sticking up in every direction and his eyes still loopy from sleep.

“I need your help.” I pushed my way through because there was no way I could survive the cold weather outside any longer, “why are you not wearing a shirt?” I never understood his choice of style.

“I don’t sleep with a shirt on, just so you know, I was sleeping.” He rubbed his and on his eye, “now, what is it that you so desperately need at,” he looks at the wall clock, “five in the fucking morning?” it comes out as a question and I know he’s mad at me now.

“The essay.” I slammed my binder on the dinning table.