“I bet you’ve practiced loads.” He mumbled.
“I get left alone in the house very often; I have to know how to do it.” I shrugged.
We watched it, and I took the plates into the kitchen and washed up. Marcus dried up, and I suddenly noticed a letter lying on the door mat. I wonder what it could be…
It was addressed to Mum and Dad, so I opened it.
Dearest Lucifer and Genevieve,
It has come to our attention that you have been skiving your duties. You are also leaving your underage daughter home alone, frequently.
You are now sacked.
They never told me. They’d been going into headquarters to fetch their stuff. They always knew stuff before the letter came… But it doesn’t matter anymore, because they’re not here. Two months before the letter had come, they’d known. I felt ashamed of them. I felt angry… at Mr. Gee… He knew they were having difficulties… Life isn’t exactly easy when you’re an agent… in secret…
“Is everything alright?” Marcus asked.
“Yep, I’m just being silly.” I said, a single tear rolling down my cheek, and putting the letter in the shredder.
He pulled me into a hug, and whispered in my ear that everything would be okay.
“What do you want to do now?” He asked, after the hug became awkward.
“We need to do some studying.” I sighed.
“What? Why?” He looked stunned.
“Because those textbooks aren’t going to read themselves” I rolled my eyes, thinking it was obvious.
“No, I meant why do we need to do some studying?” He asked.
“Oh, well, I’m still not the legal age for leaving school yet. Besides, I enjoy studying.” I replied defensively.
We went up to the office, and I pulled out GCSE level English, Mathematics, Chemistry, Biology and Physics books, while Marcus just stood there, looking like a goldfish.
“Don’t tell me that you never studied at home before.” I laughed.
“I finished school, so no, and I don’t need to.” He shrugged.
“Well fine, if you’re so good, you can help me.” I laughed, asking him to take a seat on to a bean bag, and plonking myself down on another.
“I can’t believe you have bean bags in a study-room!” He exclaimed.
“It helps me to concentrate.” I shrugged, flipping open the Mathematics textbook.
I got through about two hours of them all, but then I started yawning, so decided that perhaps it was time to get ready for bed.
“You don’t stay up late?” He pondered.
“It’s been a big day today.” I pointed out.
“You’re avoiding my question.” He said flatly.
“I usually stay up later than I have done today, but I’m honestly really tired.” I said, and he made a comment about my having slept so much on the train that he thought I’d be wide awake by now; I stuck my tongue out at him.
I got washed and changed, then went into my bathroom to brush my teeth. I met Marcus on the way out of the bathroom, as I was going down the stairs to make sure that all the lights had been turned off, seeing as we were smack-bang in the middle of a recession.
I smiled at him, and we said goodnight, then when I’d made sure that all the lights were switched off, I went into my room, climbed into bed, turned the light off (clap-lights are awesome), and fell asleep… after three hours.
The annoying thing about me is that I can never fall straight to sleep, but it was nice to be under the covers and awaiting sleep to find me.
I woke up in the morning and had a shower, got dried and changed and then straightened my hair.
“Good morning.” I mumbled to Marcus sleepily, as I was about to go downstairs to make omelets for breakfast.
“Morning” He smiled.
I went down and got out all my ingredients and utensils, and started frying up some omelets.
I served them onto two plates and poured two glasses of pure orange juice out, then shouted up the stairs that breakfast was ready.
He came down the stairs, looking really tired, rubbing his eyes, and I giggled.
“What are you laughing at?” He asked.
“Nothing” I smirked.
His eyes suddenly stopped being tired when he saw what was on his plate.
“Even at home my Mum could never get her omelets to look that neat!” He exclaimed.
“Just practice – that’s all it takes.” I smiled.
“Show off.” He muttered, rolling his eyes, but sitting down and tucking in.
“I was wondering…” I began, not knowing how to phrase it so that it wouldn’t offend him.
“Yoff?” He asked his mouth full of cheese and ham omelet.
“Did you have an objection to wearing a shirt?” I laughed.
“Does my not wearing a shirt bother you?” He smirked, having finished his mouthful.
“No” I said short and sweet, and immediately looked down to eat my breakfast.
“So, with that, the shirt remains off.” He looked triumphant.