People=Shit

Chapter 1

Chapter 1- Oliver

Explicit Language/ Drugs/ Sex/ Etc...

It was exactly one day before Oliver Sykes would go back to hell. Hell being school, of course.

Nothing was going right: his uniform was too big, his shoes were old and scruffy. Somehow, he'd managed to lose both his rucksack and his pencil case. Oli was honestly considering dropping out and running away to America with some hot chick he'd been talking to on Tumblr.

And as he lay sprawled out on his bed in the room he shared with his brother, his phone rang. If it was anyone but Lucy McKay, Oli would have ignored it. But as it was one of his favourite people in the whole wide world, Oli picked up.

"What d'you want?" he groaned, rolling over to lie on his front. "I'm busy preparing for tomorrow."

"Oli!" he heard Lucy's frantic voice and sat up, alert. "Oli, I think- I think..."

"You think what?" Oli demanded. A hard scowl etched itself on his face. Over the holidays, Oli had dealt with everything from serial rapists to lost toddlers trying to harass his friend and the events had seriously put him on edge.

"I think I'm pregnant!" Lucy burst out, obviously close to tears.

A pause.

"I think you're full of shit," Oli snorted, a grin taking over his features. "What you on? Lucy, you're fifteen! You're practically a virgin, sweetheart."

It was then that Tom Sykes chose to make his entrance in the late afternoon. He was smirking from hearing Oli's end of the conversation and sat himself down on his own bed to look at Oli across the room, head in hand, expectant.

Bugger off, Oli mouthed at his brother, who gave him the finger in return. Also aged fifteen, Tom Sykes was in Lucy's year and knew all about what went on in the crazy McKay household.

"But," Lucy continued through the phone, where only Oli could hear, "I missed my period! I'm four days late, Oli. And I boffed Michael from my maths set last week."

"Why 'boffed'? Why can't you just say 'shagged' like a normal person? Or 'banged'? Or 'fucked'. That's the best one."

"'Boffed' is funnier," Lucy defended herself, whilst Tom was desperately trying to motion that Oli should put her on speakerphone, an action which Oli ignored vehemently. "But that's not the point Oli. I'm pregnant!"

"I doubt it," Oli turned away from Tom. "I'll be over in five with chocolate, booze and a test, okay?"

"Test for what?" Tom hissed.

"Booze is bad for the baby!" Lucy protested to Oli, who pressed the phone closer against his ear, the smile on his face growing.

"You can always get rid of it," Oli suggested, before hanging up, cutting short Lucy's outraged splutters at the mere thought of aborting her precious baby.

"Get rid of what?" Tom questioned, voice now at a normal level as Oli had ended the call. "Test for what?"

"Test for none of your fucking business," Oli grabbed his wallet from the bedside table and hurried downstairs. Despite being early September, there was a slight breeze around the city of Sheffield, which was a relief compared to his hot, stuffy bedroom on the top floor.

Lucy lived a mere two-minute walk away, just over the high street, where there happened to be a Boots. Unsure of which brand to buy, Oli picked out several pregnancy tests and took them over to the middle-aged woman behind the cashier, along with several packets of crisps and a few chocolate bars.