7 Days - A One Week Love

Wednesday

"Are you off already, sweetie?" Mom is sitting at the kitchen table with Steph and Dad at breakfast, casting a look at the big wall clock that is hanging in our kitchen. 

"Yeah, I am meeting the guys before school. Last day and all, you know?" I reply while trying to tie my shoes and appear completely nonchalant. 

"Aww, Mackenzie, that is great! I am glad you are making the most of it," Mom gives me a wide smile and I fake a smile back. 

Yes, definitely making the most of it. By drowning it in alcohol. 

If she knew I was going to get drunk, I don't think she'd be that approving of those last day antics. 

But alas, she doesn't know. So I smile, give her and Steph a kiss on the cheek goodbye and pat my dad on the shoulder, as to not distract him from his paper. 

"Bye, see you all later!" I yell as I am letting the door fall shut behind me and step down to the road, where I can already see Lily. 

Waiting with a brown paper bag that undoubtedly looks like alcohol. Tequila, baby! I hug my friend tight when I get closer and she has to laugh against my shoulder. 

"If I knew I'd get such a hearty greeting, I'd show up with a bottle of tequila every morning," she grins and I have to laugh. 

"Let's go?" I wiggle my eyebrows and Lily nods, hooking her arm into mine. 

Strolling through Western Springs Park, we open the bottle and decide to take celebratory sips in the middle of a field. 

"To the last day of prison!" I cheer Lily's fist and take a big gulp. It burns and I have to cough. 

"Please tell me you didn't forget to bring the lemons," I cough out and Lily laughs. 

"Yes, Ms Picky, don't you worry." But soon it is my turn to laugh as Lily coughs and doubles over after taking a sip. 

"It's just disgusting without them," I shrug while she recovers, nodding vehemently in agreement as she gets up. 

After having calmed down and discussed what uncultured swines we are to drink tequila without lemons and salt in length, we continue our stroll through the park to Henry's.

"Alright, alright, alright people!", Tom yells across all of us talking. Henry is lighting his, I think, second joint during this hour, while Mel is a bottle deep in her Mom's red wine and Tom has had, as always, one too many cruisers. 

Standing up on the small wooden table in Henry's garage surrounded by us sitting on the mismatched couches and chairs, he raises his cruiser. "To 12 years of school! It's oveeeeeeeer!" He roars and we all grab our drinks and take big swigs. 

"Well, technically it will be over later today," Mel speaks up and we all have to laugh at Tom's expression of dread. 

Suddenly Lily exclaims and turning to her, I see her rummaging through her backpack. 

"I've got markers!" She proudly presents said markers and Tom loses his shit once again. 

"Fuck yesss!" He yells and even Henry, who can never be bothered by anything, tells him to shut it. 

And so we spend the next 20 minutes we got before school starts writing on our uniform shirts in another silly leaving tradition, marking our names on the uniform that has trapped us in the institution that resembles prison but calls itself school. I see this as an act against the uniform, against the stolen individuality.

Take care, ginger root - Kenzie I write on Tom's shirt, referring to his hair colour and the dare he took in year 10 to eat one whole raw ginger root and his pathetic reaction of spitting it out afterwards, which resulted in me calling him ginger root for the whole year to follow.