“Ignore him,” Gareth says, dragging me away. He drops his voice lower. “That’s Joseph. He dated Esme for six months and I think he was on the verge of buying a ring when she dumped his arse.”
A ring? From that muppet?
I press my lips together to stop a growl.
“He’s seen the video?” I ask, taking another glance without being obvious and calculating the height and weight differences between us. Then wondering what the hell Esme saw in him because whatever attracted her, it’s hidden from me.
“Fuck no. Even Tarryn’s not that big a dipshit. Joe’s ready to go off without any input.” Gareth shakes his head. “That you’re still standing means he doesn’t know you hooked up at all.”
He nods across as Joseph does the same move on a large Samoan kid, who looks completely startled before shrugging and heading on his way.
“My advice would be to stay the fuck out of his path till he finds a new girl to disappoint.”
The last word prompts a spurt of laughter and I pull out a serviette with rashers of bacon and a toasted muffin I put aside from this morning’s meal. The cafeteria serves breakfast and dinner for free to any boarding students, but lunchtimes are at our discretion and my finances won’t easily stretch to cover the cost of a tuckshop lunch every day.
A few other students join our table until the wider group stretches across three, and we’re the noisiest in the area. It’s comfortable, like slotting back into the space I vacated at home.
It’s only as I joke about and share a few laughs I realise how, deep down, I’d been worried that I’d be excluded. There’s precious little I hold in common with this crowd, but no one seems to care. Some of the tension I’ve been carrying in my neck and shoulders eases and I’m in a fantastic mood by the time the bell calls us back to class.
The two afternoon lessons drag. Social Studies and Economics. My eyelids weigh about half a tonne each by the time I clock out of class for the day.
When I turn my phone back on, a message is sitting there from Coach Welter.“Dinner’s set. 8.00pm next Wednesday. I’ve reserved a suit rental in your size. Wear it.”
Below that is the private address for Maxwell Antigua and the link to the black-tie clothing rental store. I gulp at the price list. Seems Coach forgot I signed up for this sponsorship gig because I don’t have any money.
The first bit of shine gets knocked off my bright future.
I’m close to the bone as it is. Suit rental costs will be nothing compared to the sports lawyer Coach talked about. How much will I have to invest into this opportunity before it manifests into the money I need?
More than I have, that’s for sure.
After a moment of panic, I dial home.
“Hey, Mum,” I say, closing my eyes as I try to think what she’ll be doing on a Monday afternoon. Her cleaning shifts are during the night, professional offices aren’t keen on seeing the staff who tidy up after them, so relegate them to the small hours. “How’re you doing?”
The stiff chatter goes back and forth a few times before I summon the courage to ask her for what I need. She ticks her tongue against her teeth, not a good sign. If she has to put that much thought into it, the money isn’t there.
“I could pull down a loan,” she hesitantly suggests, and I wince, both at the notion and the reluctance in her voice.
The payday loans available for people at our level come with a far higher repayment rate than the ones richer people can apply for at a bank.
“Leave it with me,” she says, injecting more confidence into her tone. “I’ll sort something out.”
It’s painful to think of the consequences of those words. Worse still to understand that if she can’t get one, I don’t think I can swing it. Even using my emergency account, I’m not sure enough funds exist.
I watch Esme walk across the quad, heading for Joseph, the blond boy with the rage-on for her even harder than mine. She gets to the outer layer of the circle of friends surrounding him, then falters.
Her teeth nibble at her bottom lip, her brows pinch together with anxiety, she drops her frowning gaze to the asphalt of the yard.
Joseph barely glances her way, but he speaks to the girl nearest him, triggering smiles and laughter from the group.
Esme abruptly turns and walks away, each step faster than the one before.
Interesting. Judging from that short performance, he can’t be the one who gave her the STI. Looks like she was fucking around behind tried-to-put-a-ring-on-its back and the thought makes me smile.
She clutches her hand to her neck, a chunky gold necklace strung around it, probably worth a year’s tuition. She’ll have more, just as expensive, sitting in her room.
And an idea opens up to me. Quick. Easy. Painless.
