Tuesday & Max

3

I FEEL LIKE A 6/10

I GOTTA GET UP EARLY TOMORROW AGAIN

WHAT GOES ON BEHIND THE WORDS?

IS THERE PITY FOR THE PLAIN GIRL?

She sits on the toilet in the Doe, knees together, plain black underwear and jeans around her ankles and her skin goose-bumpy from a small open window behind her, trying to focus hard enough to read the graffiti on the back of its door.

Her vision swims.

Why does this always happen?

She arrived at the Doe just after one. It's an interesting little bar, wood-panelled and strung with fairy lights, and Tuesday found Jack in a corner with a pool table with Daliyah, Stella, Albie, Emil and Naomi; all housemates, apart from Naomi, who's apparently a girl from his course. The doormen didn't start until six, so getting into the bar wasn't a problem despite her age; and neither was staying in it.

They started with beer, a good pool-playing accompaniment. Tuesday won two games against Jack and lost one to Emil. Stella bought a bottle of white wine as the day-drinking phased into the evening and Tuesday sat with her and Daliyah, getting to know them, as Naomi took pictures of the boys as they played on a camera that looked too expensive to be with her on a budding night out.

Vodka followed the wine; vodka with coke, vodka with lemonade, vodka with an energy drink. Eventually it was just vodka on its own, in tiny little glasses lined up like soldiers on the table.

And now she's here, in the toilets, trying to read the graffiti and trying not to puke.

            Breathe, breathe, breathe.

She checks her phone for the first time since three o'clock, when she messaged Julia to let her know a lift wasn't needed yet.

Missed call: Julia (6)

Message: Julia (6).

Shit, shit.

The bathroom door creaks open as she's trying to figure out how to handle this.

"So is your course good?"

It's Daliyah. Tuesday recognises her voice.

"Really good, I love it." Naomi.

"Boys?"

"Loads."

They both laugh.

"Anyone you're after?" Daliyah asks.

"Yeah, actually-there's-"

They both start mumbling and it erupts into laughter.

"No, go on, tell me," Daliyah insists.

"But I feel bad!" Naomi laughs.

"Why?"

"Alright-it's silly-hang on. She's not in here, is she?"

"Who?"

Tuesday's stomach plummets. She knows what's coming before she hears it, lifts her knees up with a jerk that makes her feel queasier so they won't spot her feet underneath the door. She can just see them, Naomi as pale as Daliyah is dark, Naomi touching up her lipstick, Daliyah rearranging her curls.

"Tuesday?" Daliyah says. "I think she's outside with Emil."

"It's just-Jack's pretty much perfect for me, you know?"