Chasing the Browns

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Four

I was totally fine with sulking and moaning and crying and sulking some more and screaming and whining and weeping and sniffling all morning, but, due to the unearthly optimistic vibes my mum and dad just kept on emitting, creating a horribly happy atmosphere, that wasn’t allowed to happen.

So I had to be happy, too.

‘Don’t you see?’ Dad exclaimed. ‘This is it! Lea, we can finally be done with this! I’ll hand in the copies in a couple of days and, hopefully, all of this will be over!’ He had a splitting grin on his face. I wondered whether it hurt him to smile that widely, because my smile hurt, even though it was strained and practically nonexistent.

Mum squealed, and they danced around the kitchen.

And I left the room.

As my head hit the pillow and I sunk into the sheets on the bed which had become my best friend overnight, memories of last night’s dream came rushing back. No guessing who’d starred in it, again.

And it had felt so real. It had been so sweet, so calm and beautiful…and then I’d woken up. And then I’d started crying.

Half an hour later, my face was all blotchy and my hair looked like it had gone through a freaking bear cage and only just escaped, and my pillow was damp, and Mum came in and told me it was time to get ready for school.

She’d even brought up my morning toast for me to eat in bed.

But I didn’t want to eat. And she wasn’t having that.

And I didn’t want to go to school, but Mum wasn’t having that, either.

If I went to school, that meant facing Jack – or, trying to avoid him – and facing Dayna. Besides that, there was Nick and Rita, whom I didn’t even want to do so much as think about.

But, no matter how hard I tried, Mum wouldn’t let me stay home.

Maybe it was because of her good mood, or maybe it was because of my terrible persuasion. I mean, half-tired, croaky and cranky wasn’t exactly going to sway her.

Well, at least she spared me the walk by driving me to school (even if that meant sitting through all her favourite happy songs, because her excitement about the case was growing).

But driving meant getting there quicker, and I didn’t want to get there quicker.

Hell, I didn’t want to get there at all.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t really much I could do about it. With a huge smile on her face, she waved at me before driving off, leaving me standing at the kerb, contemplating what would happen if I attempted to jump on top of a moving car, and whether it was too late to try and leap.

The weather – which was typically British – was horrible: rainy, cloudy, dull. In a way, it was good because it matched my mood.

Because I’d arrived extra early, no one was in form when I got there. So, I sat in the corner, took out my Latin book and attempted to translate the paragraphs we’d been set for homework.

It was a short story on how a Roman slave and her master fell in love.

How ironic.

I slammed the book shut and plugged in my earphones.

They played the Maroon 5 song.

I yanked out the earphones and let my head drop onto the table, wrapping my arms around my head so no one would see me cry.