I listen to the principal drone on about how unacceptable our behaviour is and how it won't be tolerated. The whole time Lucas is smirking, and I want nothing more than for the ground to open up and swallow him. For good.
Our punishment is a gruesome Saturday detention with Mr. Walker. I tried to explain to the principal that I won't be able to complete my punishment then because I'm busy, but she didn't want a word of it. Lucas insisted he was busy too, which I don't believe whatsoever. She promised that our punishment for ditching would include a tripled detention.
I know those Saturday's will be long and tiring hours committed to horrendous cleaning, such as attending to the chewy that's living under the classroom desks.
We're let out at lunch and the only thing that slightly brightens my angry mood is that at least I got out of one whole period.
Kelly is sitting at our normal table and I quickly stack a mountain of food on my tray before joining her. I fill her in on what happened this morning and her anger and nasty words about Luke drag me out of my bad mood. She's a great friend who has the power to always make me laugh, no matter what.
On my drive home I start to let the anger creep back up on me. I can't stand Lucas! Getting me into trouble was one thing, and even receiving a few detentions I could handle. But did he really have to kiss me like that?
He didn't give me enough time to respond. I wanted to push him away. Honestly, I did. And I want to believe that that would have been my response, but to be honest, I'm kind of grateful he ended it quickly.
Because his lips were soft and his breath was fresh; his cologne was strong and it filled my nostrils, and every time I inhale I swear I can still smell him.
So the kiss was kind of amazing. But I need to remember that he isn't. So I want to believe that had he given me time to respond, I would have pushed him away and not pulled him closer.
As soon as I walk through the door mom reminds me I still need to clean the spare bedrooms. On the weekend mom's fiancé Mark is coming over and I'm finally going to meet his children.
Mom and Mark met each other at the local petrol station nearly a year ago. Mom had stopped there for her regular coffee and Mark was there filling up his car after his long drive home from Los Angeles. They fought over the last large-sized cup and Mark promised to take her for some real coffee. They've been serious ever since, and last week Mark asked her for her hand.
I've met Mark a dozen times before and we get along really well. I can joke around with him and have a laugh and he treats my mom really well.
I've never actually met his children. I've heard bits and pieces about them, but every time mom tries to organise something I'm always busy. It's either a school activity like camp or excursions, or even having made prior commitments to friends and so on, but this weekend mom is putting her foot down.
The kids are coming over with Mark and we're all sitting down for a nice BBQ lunch. I know that the older child is male and the younger female, but other than that I've really made no effort getting to know them.
"Sure, mom," I say as I pour a glass of water for myself. "I'll do it in a minute. How was work?"
My mom is a lawyer. She's always flat out at work, but I see her a lot more than I use to when I was younger. Her job use to require her to travel constantly, but when my dad passed away she put her suitcase away for good and now she only takes on local cases.
"It was okay. It's been really quiet lately, so it feels like the days are dragging more than usual," She sighs as she puts her empty coffee cup in the sink. "How was school?"
"School is school, mom," I roll my eyes and kiss her cheek. "I'm going to do those rooms and then crash. Love you,"
"Love you more," She insists before heading towards the lounge room.
The spare rooms aren't messy, they're just a little dusty and you can tell they haven't been used in a long time. I quickly wipe over the wall units and side tables in both rooms before changing and remaking the bedding.
My room is messy though and I sigh when I walk into it. Still in cleaning mode, I remake my untidy bed and pick up the few scattered clothing items. After throwing them in my wash basket in the bathroom, I pick up my DVD containers and put the correct disk into each one before re-stacking them.
A few photographs have fallen from my blue feature wall and I put them back in their places before standing back to admire it. Everybody that either means something to me now or use to and no longer does holds their place on my wall: my mom, my deceased father, my best friend, my cousins who I use to be close with but no longer am, ex-boyfriends and aunties and uncles.
I stare at a photo of my dad and I; he with his big grin and dark hair and me with my six year old pigtails and sticky, chocolate-stained hands. I grin before turning and falling onto my bed.
"Goodnight mom!" I call out.
"Stop yelling!" She yells and I roll my eyes. "Night sweetie! Love you!"
