Touchy

Chapter 17

Triple upload. It's so tiring to break up paragraphs on Word before uploading on here. THere must be an easier way. 

We'll talk in the morning: that was said to me last night and it's about 2:30pm the following day and no one's done any talking to me. Regarding that I'm at school now and mum and dad are at work, yes, but I didn't even get a bollocking this morning. For anything at that. Breakfast was usual, potentially even perkier than usual for some reason that I've put down to mum not having any meetings for the rest of the week. Getting home earlier due to no meetings is as much of a bonus for her as it is for me not having any extra revision sessions tonight. I wish that was the case though – it's not. I have English tonight and I'd much rather be anywhere else but school after last lesson on a Thursday.

"You're daydreaming again," Phoebs comments which only reminds me that I'm still physically stuck out on the field for another half hour with 'the bitches' as she likes to refer to them as. Joanne and her squad have been oddly quiet the past few days (with the occasional interferences I've had with them, which to my relief hasn't been many) and it just makes me think she's plotting something. To think the best, that she's finally gotten off my back feels way too optimistic. If only it was what I could believe.

"Can you blame me?" I shoot back in a bored tone as I stand away from the bases on the field, 'fielding' with Phoebs. So technically she's congregated over to me and fancies having a chat, something else I also can't complain about. P.E has gotten less gripping after every lesson we've had recently. I guess the looming figure of paper booklets and single tables and chairs in an utterly silent room is getting to us more and more. Or it's at least getting to the pair of us.

With a scowl on her face, she turns to watch the ball ricochet off Sarah's bat and head in the complete opposite direction from us. Meaning we don't have to join in, excellent. "No, but what are you thinking about? Are you thinking about prom? I'm getting really excited as the days go by for it," she beams at me with white teeth and way too much energy for a Thursday afternoon. Grabbing hold of my arm in too tight an embrace, she succeeds in getting my attention. "We have to go dress shopping. I've already cleared Saturday with mum. All I need is my best friend to come along with me now, so what does she have to say about Saturday?" Her puppy dog eyes don't work on me, they haven't for years, but it doesn't stop her from trying.

"Phoebs, I haven't even decided if I'm even going yet."

She gives me a disappointed look, one that I've seen all too often from people around here. "You should come, we can go together then. That would be the best. Who needs boys? Anyway, I think that dress shopping might entice you to come. And if it doesn't, I still need your opinion on what I'm trying on. No offence to my mum, but her idea of what suits me isn't quite the same as yours is. Secretly, I think she still sees me as her six-year-old who she could dress in whatever as I wouldn't say anything back. So, I need you Celine. Please."

Rolling my eyes, I can't help but think about actually going to prom. Yeah, the venue will look all sparkly and as jazzy as it can possibly be to give the hall they've selected an overkill look. Everyone will have gone all out to spruce up their appearances and make sure they look as glamorous as they're capable of doing. But I still can't help but having this hunch that something – or someone – will be there to say something spiteful to me, that they'll be snickering behind their backs at me. The only thing that my mind reminds me of is that there will be teachers there. No one dares to step out of line when they are there, even Joanne to a certain degree.