five
likkle misfortune.
Frankie.
I may have madethe biggest mistake of my fucking life and how I managed such a fuck-up is beyond me.
The momentI plant my arse on the bus, sweaty from running to catch it, I text Za about my misfortune. My thumbs barely finish before my screen lights up with her name.
I slump against the cracked window, forehead pressed to the cool glass as I answer.
“You’re fucked,” she says flatly.
“As shit.” I groan loud enough for the old lady across from me to cut her eyes at me. I flip her off and return to my freak out. “I’m finished.”
“How’d you even manage that?”
The back of my hand rubs sweat off my forehead, taking some of the makeup with it.
“I don’t know!” I say with annoyance. “I remember texting everyone for a rain check before we crashed last night. Then when I woke up this morning my phone was dead but we were solate for church, I only managed to charge it a little before we left. I only turned it back on after church.”
“Fuck,” Za drags. “Maybe you pressed create group instead of send separately.”
I moan as I hold my head up with one hand, trying my best not to throw up. That one stupid mistake caused me five of my best flings.
I blame Wray and alla him bloodclaat Nephew.
“I’m gonna kill myself,” I deadpan. “Seriously, it’s all over for me. Thank you for being my friend for as long as you did.”
“Stop it,” Za groans. “Any of them reply?”
I finally sat up. “Well. Jordan blocked me on everything, the bastard. Troy is in my messages cussing me to rassclaat. And the rest just exited the chat without a word.”
“Fucking hell,” Za mutters, shaking her head. “Jordan would’ve fixed our coffee table.”
“Don’t remind me.”
The phone rings against my ear and I check the caller ID.
Benny.
I press decline and bury my face in my hands. “I can’t believe I fucked up this badly.”
Za sighs, softer now. “It’s alright, love. They’ll get over it. People blow up, they vent, and then they forget. You’re fine. Just… maybe text every one individually next time.”
I can’t help but snort at that. “Yeah, sure. Genius idea.”
My phone buzzes again. I lift it and see Benny calling. Again.
“Oi, I gotta take this. It’s Benny,” I mutter, holding the phone to my ear.
“You should ask him to fix our table.”
My God.
“Oh, enough about the bloody table!”
“Alright! Alright!” she yells back before sighing. “You coming round Mum’s for dinner?”
