yellow

1

What even is study?

Well, my dear friend, I'm so glad you asked. According to the wondrous and all knowing Mr Google Search, the concept can be defined as:

"The devotion of time and attention to gaining knowledge of an academic subject, especially by means of books and the internet."

Riveting stuff.

Now for a good hardworking student, this may be true, but for me? Studying had less to do with learning and more to do with texting, binge eating and watching Netflix with an open textbook nearby. The three priority activities in this teenage girl's life, apparently. But besides, there wasn't any point in doing study now; I was finished. My assignments and exams were done and school got out in a week.

*Ding Ding*

I paused my current episode of The Real Housewives and grabbed my phone from the bed side table.

MARLA: Tov where r you??? Alex is getting
                 pissy and they start in 20 minutes.

Crap. The play.

I peered over at the mirror in the corner of my room and sighed. Not only was I late, I was also a complete mess. My curly hair was shoved up into a giant bundle of knotty chaos, and the bags under my eyes made my green orbs appear even larger and darker than they usually were.

Adding to my apparent 17-year-old-homeless-school-girl look, I was dressed up nice and cosy in my high school's sports jersey - the words "Staveton High" sprawled in white block letters across my back. My old grey sweat pants added to my unruly appearance, and paved the way for the finishing touch: a pair of pink fluffy slippers.

I definitely didn't look like much, but I was completely and unequivocally, the epitome of comfort.

Unfortunately though, my content wouldn't be a good enough excuse for Alexander Seawright if I missed the start of his play.

Alex was head of the drama club at school, and the group had worked all year on perfecting their take on Shakespeare's "Macbeth".

Quite frankly I would rather have punched myself in the face than spend a night watching a bunch of wanna-be actors parade around a stage in costumes, thrusting fake swords at each other's chest.

But Alex was one of my best friends, and he was actually pretty good.

*Ding Ding*

Turning my attention away from my sad reflection, I looked back down at my phone to see another frantic text.

MARLA: "Tov I'm not kidding, his stress vein is starting to show. HURRY UP!!"

"Shit." I muttered under my breath and pushed myself up from the bed, before awkwardly shuffling over to my wardrobe. It was nearly summer break, but like always, the small town of Staveton,Victoria had a distinct and constant year-round chill.

In addition to that, my home town received the highest amounts of rainfall nationwide. In fact, I rarely saw the sun at all; an extremely strange phenomenon in a country renowned for its great weather, but I guess somewhere had to claim the title of wettest place on earth.

I grabbed a pair of jeans, my favourite blue flannel shirt and my converse, before making my way to the bathroom. I desperately needed a shower.

"Mum can I please borrow the car tonight?"

I paused at the bathroom door and waited for a reply.

"I leant it to Dylan tonight sweetheart I'm sorry," my mother's voice echoed up the stairs. "What do you need it for?"

I groaned. Of course my brother had taken it.

Dylan and I had just turned 17 and we'd both gotten our drivers licenses. As a combined reward for this astonishing feat, our parents had graciously bought us a car.

Dylan and I are twins, unfortunately. The first set in the Bradway family tree. Thanks to our parents, we both have golden hair, although mine is darker and way curly than his.

Our green eyes also vary in shades. Mine are a dark emerald green whilst his are a bright piercing peridot. The most obvious - and quite frankly the most annoying - difference between us however, is that my fair, pale skin refuses to do anything except burn when the sun dares to rear it's ugly head, whilst his turns bronze after mere seconds of going outside, regardless of the weather.

A travesty and one of life's great injustices, as far as I'm concerned.

I leant heavily against the bathroom door frame and ran a tired hand down my face. "Alex's play is tonight and I'm late. Can you please drive me?"

An annoyed yet resounding "sure" followed me into the bathroom and propelled me under a warm steaming shower.

I ran my fingers through my drenched hair, trying desperately to loosen the usual abundance of knots that had formed during the day.

Giving up, I turned the tap off and reached for my towel. Another messy bun would have to do.

I opened my phone again to check the time; 5:46pm. I had 14 minutes.

I quickly got dressed before rushing along the hallway and down the stairs as fast as I could. It didn't matter how much I resented everything to do with high school productions - or William Shakespeare for that matter - I could not miss this play.

"Mum I'm ready, can we please go?" A huff sounded from the kitchen and my mother appeared in the doorway. Her hair, a mirror image of mine, framed her face and fell just past her shoulders. Her flour coated apron was tied haphazardly over her shoulders and around her waist. I sniffed the air. She'd been baking. How hadn't I smelt that earlier? I was usually particularly talented at locating food.

I looked up again at her face. Her blue eyes were furrowed and I knew she was pissed.

"Yes we can go. A little notice would have been nice though Victoria, you had all afternoon to get ready, and I'm assuming you should've been there ages ago."

She turned on her heel, quickly untying her apron and hanging it on a hook my dad had screwed onto the pantry door. I grabbed the keys to my Grandad's magnificent old yellow Mercedes Benz, and followed her out the back door and through the yard to where it was parked on the street.

I had secretly been hoping that Mum and Dad would give the car to Dylan and I for our birthday. After all, I'd had my eye on this baby from the first time my Grandad had taken me for a ride.

But alas, nope. They'd gotten us a Prius.

"Thank you thank you thank you. I'll get a lift home with Marla." Mum nodded as she put the key in the ignition.

"Seatbelt please." The engine fired up and we were on our way.

I leant forward to turn the radio on, and the time blinked back at me on the dashboard clock, it's bright red numbers screaming "5:50pm".

I had 10 minutes. Not to worry. With mums driving, we'd get there in no time.

_______________
PLAYLIST
1. I Need a Woman - Hockey Dad
______________
Hey!
I've only just started writing "Yellow" so apologies for the slow progress that will follow!

Throughout the story, each chapter will have a new song attached that will contribute to a playlist that is symbolic of Tov's life.

I'm hoping you like the sounds of things so far, but give me a chance to get the ball rolling and I promise it'll be great (I hope!)

Much love,
Erin x