Oasis

1

"This is the end of the world!" I declared, flinging my arms about in a defiant rage. We four were sitting at the breakfast table, which was clumsily set, the jug of milk standing precariously off the edge of the table: the knives and forks just thrown in the centre.
"Don't be so dramatic, Carren. It's just a silly school play." Mum said weakly, stirring her porridge round the bowl until it was just lumpy slop.
I stared at her. "Mum! How can you be so mean?" Mum and Dad looked at each other worriedly, then Dad stood up.
"I want to say... sorry. I'm sorry, Kelly. I just can't do this anymore." He mumbled to Mum, whose eyes had glazed over with tears. She looked at him with a mixture of anger and guilt.
"You said everything would work, but this just doesn't feel right."
"Mum, Dad?" I asked slowly. I could sense that this would end in Mum either crying, or Dad suddenly starts admitting that he wants to stay with us forever and ever.
I had a feeling it was the first option. Suddenly Mum missing my school play wasn't such a big deal after all.
"I'm going to stay with Laurie for a bit. I'll send you money for the kids, of course."
"What? You're not leaving. You're being hasty, let's talk about this-" Mum tried to sound calm, but her voice was uncomfortably wobbly.
"There's nothing to talk about." Dad said sharply. "I'll come collect my things from Laurie's at seven tonight."
"Laurie?" Mum whispered, her voice just a croak. "Just tell me why."
"Because I don't love you anymore."
----------------------------------------------That was the last time Dad came to the house. We saw him a couple of times a few years ago, but he was acting all furtive and lovey-dovey with Laurie. Max and I haven't bothered to make contact again. That's my brother.
The last thing Dad said to me was "look after your brother." Not 'I love you' or anything. I have to do a job that my dad couldn't be bothered to do.
It's not like Mum is going out of her way to help now, either. I make dinner, wash the plates, everything she's supposed to do. Especially to look after Max.
She's difficult too. I once made her cheese on toast and she said "can't you ever make anything proper? How am I supposed to eat this?"
That's when she was mad, not sad. I can't decide which one I am.

I've not got amazing grades at school, just to let you know. I don't have time to. I don't mind detentions. There are kids that actually cry when they get one, can you imagine? It's just sitting in a classroom. It's all the peace I can get.
People don't really like me, yet I'm not scruffy. I just don't spend years on hair and makeup. All I do is iron out my locks with a brush, and rub on some of Mum's old lipstick. Most of the girls at school bribe their mums into twisting their hair into neat little hairdos or helping them contour properly. I don't know. I used to try with my appearance, but I realised that girls will look and judge you either way, made up or not. Girls are bitches.
Sometimes I wish I was a boy. Their relationships aren't complicated and they don't care whether you look 'disgusting' or not. But when I see my brother picking his nose, my opinion changes.

I actually used to have a best friend, in Year Seven. It was this sad, sniffly little girl called Diana. We bonded because we both still had miserably flat chests and literally no social skills. But then Diana grew boobs and that was that. She was whisked off into the powdery, sparkly world of popularity, leaving me trailing behind. It's not like she feels guilty towards me or tries to offer a few awkward compliments to appease me. No. Diana is the devil. Well, if the devil wore ten gallons of Paul Rose perfume. She's the queen of catty remarks, the leader of sneering glances, and definitely the princess of slutsville. She's gone out with six different boys in the last month, and from what I've heard, it sounds like she's been busy.
"Hey, Diana." I once said to her in the hallway.
She gave me this look that ripped me in two. A glance that told me all I needed to know. We'd been friends for ages and one day that was it.
"What?" She snapped.
"Well, why haven't you been texting me back? Are you mad at me or something?" I offered weakly. Diana let out this horrible helium laugh that made me feel sick.
"Look, Carren, you're okay and all, but you need to grow up a bit. Well, a lot. I was only hanging out with you because I felt sorry for you, because you're such a flat chested, pug faced weirdo."
"What?" I whispered. I looked down at myself and felt tears prickling in my eyes.
"Don't talk to me ever again. Because if you do, I'll make sure everybody knows you're just a fat piece of shit. And listen here, geek. If you died tomorrow, nobody here would care." She poked me in the stomach at this. I overbalanced, plunging into the trash can. "Because you're a freak, and nobody likes a freak."
I had rubbish sliding down my face, which had gone red with rage.
"Shut up, you liar!" I said through clenched teeth.
"Aw, the baby's going to cry!"
A crowd of idiots had gathered around us now. I was like a bottle of shaken cola. And Diana was going to open it.
"Shut up shut up shut up!" I finally screamed, lunging at her, arms outstretched.
She shrieked as she hit the cold concrete floor. It felt good as the pressure that was her smashed into the ground. A crack resounded in the hallway. Her temple was bleeding. She felt it gingerly and her eyes flashed with rage.
"Don't ever call me a freak again." I said cool and stalked off, spitting at her as I went by.

Mum wasn't angry when they called her. Mum wasn't anything. She was a void, her stare blank, her mind empty. She just held the phone tightly, and when the headmaster finished ranting, she pressed the red button with almost no force. She turned her stare to me. Then the weirdest thing happened. She held out her arms and pulled me into a hug. That was exactly sixteen days until she disappeared completely.