When I wake for real,I’m running late. Too late for breakfast, even if my stomach was keen on the idea, which it certainly isn’t.
A shower does little to clear my head. Nor does the sight of Patrick’s smiling face when he joins me in the kitchen, scarfing down half the pot of coffee I made for myself.
“Need a lift?” he asks with enough cheer that I worry for the first time he wasn’t joking when he said George expressed her gratitude.
The man’s got little else to be happy about. Since my arrival on the scene, his irritation at dropping a place in the line of succession has been clear to see.
Between his dark wavy hair, firm jaw, ever-present stubble, and piercing blue eyes, I understand he’s attractive to women. He’s scrawnier than me but put him in a suit and the ladies all swoon. And the men.
I’m sure he’s lying. Almost sure. The niggle of doubt is enough to make my hangover symptoms worse.
“No,” I reply without bothering to elaborate on how I need my car and wouldn’t be seen dead in his.
“Sure? You’re probably still drunk from last night.”
“I am and I’m not.”
“It’s no trouble.”
I spin away from the dining room, already knowing that if I engage any longer, I’ll just get led down some rabbit hole with nothing good waiting at the other end.
Even clipping the speed limit, I’m running late for my firstlesson. It’s English so I don’t have to pay much attention. Anton produces any of my required essays for the class, so I’m just here to coast and make sure the teacher doesn’t have any gripes about attendance. I think I actually fall asleep at one point, startling awake in a manner that would earn another kid a smatter of laughter but which for me, no one would dare.
Kari catches up with me between first and second period, escorting me from English to Chemistry, even though she’s not in either class.
“Need something?” I ask as we approach the lab room. “Or did you sort yourself out the same way I did?”
“By bottom feeding? No. Strange that.”
“That’s not the part of her I was eating, but if that’s what you’re into, I’m sure you can find someone to oblige.”
Her jawline hardens, eyes turning strangely flat. “My father wasn’t impressed by your display.”
“Really? Strange. He had all night to tell me that himself but decided to do it through the medium of his daughter.”
“Don’t do that,” she snaps. “You’re lucky I’m even speaking to you right now.”
“Doesn’t feel particularly lucky.”
She flashes a full glare at me for a second before remembering expressions cause lines and reverting to her typical emotional bankruptcy. “Aren’t you even going to apologise?”
“For filling in when my date inconveniently cancelled? No. Are you going to apologise for standing me up at the last minute?”
“Don’t be stupid. You deserved it.”
I let a smile spread my lips far wider than usual. “Yeah. I deserved a date who doesn’t spend every minute of the evening social climbing or inserting herself into other people’s good graces. George was a revelation.”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing to want others to think well of me. Why don’t you try being pleasant yourself for a change and see how it feels?”
“Seems like a lot of effort with little reward.”
The teacher walks by us, sending me a frown when I don’t move into the classroom.
“Gotta go.”
She spits out a sarcastic laugh. “Because your schoolwork means so much to you.”
This morning it does. I have a surprise assignment for another kid in class and don’t want to miss the opportunity, but she doesn’t need to know that.
