Dazed

Chapter One

I wrenched a comb through my thick mud-brown hair, in a desperate attempt to tame the wavy mess, and stared painstakingly at the reflection in the mirror. The girl who gazed back at me had a deflated, lost look in her eyes. She looked detached from her surroundings.

With a sigh, I dragged some mascara over my eyelashes. I didn’t bother with face makeup, because my freckles would still be able to peek through the thickest of foundations. My skin was pale and plagued with them. My mum used to tell me they were kisses from the sun; I pondered over that a lot when I was young. Why did the sun want to kiss me? It didn’t make sense.

I swung my rucksack over my shoulder and made it for the front door. Curiosity overcame me, and I glanced somewhat dismissively into the sitting room. Dad was once again sprawled sluggishly across the couch, empty cans of beer at his feet to match his rough, unshaven face. No change there, then. No matter how much I wished and willed for him to get his life back, he stayed there day after day, soaking in misery and alcohol.

It was second week of the school spring term, yet the trees were still dripping with icy rain, and the skies were shaded in a powdery gloom of obscurity. Dread rose to my throat, drying it, as the uninviting school gates came in to sight.

“IMO!” Noah was waiting for me on the brick wall next to the gates, cheerily swinging his skinny, gangly legs. He leapt off. The bounce in his step never failed to irritate me. “Imo, did ya do the maths? Can I copy you? You know I’m not so good with numbers.”

“Fuck off. And don’t call me that.” I strode towards the main block. 4 minutes late. “I’m still mad at you for chatting on to Miss Rainsford about my dad. Now she keeps looking at me funny.”

Miss Rainsford was the teacher in charge of our form. She took the uncanny appearance of a crow. She was thin and old with wiry black hair that perched warily on her shoulder, and the type of spectacles you wouldn’t think got sold anymore, which slid off her beak-like nose. Ever since Noah had let it slip that my dad was in a mess, I found her eyeing me closely. It was only a matter of time until she kept me after class to have a ‘chat’.

“Imogen, I’m sorry. I wanted to help.” Noah had the expression of a puppy, eager to please.

I smiled weakly, being angry was too tiring and I knew I was going to forgive him at some point. “Whatever. Park after school?”

He nodded and we half ran, half walked to class.

Since year 10 had started, things had begun to change. The boys had matured a little, and by that I mean they had stopped saying ‘your mum’ or ‘that’s what she said’ after everything. Some had started putting gel in their hair in attempt to look cool and the smell of Axe body spray was stronger than ever in the school corridors. The girls started wearing more makeup, hitching up their grey school pleated skirts higher and batting their eyelashes hopefully at the year 11 and 12 boys. One thing everyone shared was that the stress levels had gone up significantly now that GSCEs were dawning.

School passed in a slow blur as the worries about dad over clouded my thoughts, making it hard to concentrate. Especially in double science.

Mr Griffon droned on unenthusiastically about ions and protons and neutrons and stuff I hadn’t quite grasped yet. How did they expect us to be keen to learn when the teachers acted even more bored than the students?

My trail of thought came to an abrupt stop as she burst through the door in a flush. My heart pounded stupidly against my chest. I pretended to study the floor, aware of the sudden heat of my cheeks.