“You should still tell him. Even if he
doesn’t do anything about it, at least he knows.”
realistic, told me.
I quickly changed the subject, and we
chatted on for about an hour. We talked about my plans for new, empowering
songs, the snobby girls at school and many other things. Among those ‘many
other things’ was the fact that Gary, the aforementioned eye-shadow-wearing-guy,
was trying to form a band with some classmates.
“Maybe you could write a song? You
know what Gary’s like at English.”
“I don’t think they’d really like my
I told her, surprised at my own
“Why shouldn’t they like your songs?
They’re rock and heavy-metal, the band wants to play rock and heavy metal,
they’re awesome, the band want to be awesome, it all works out!”
“I have to go now. My parents will be
wondering where I am. I have to face mom sometime. Enjoy the rest of your
I said in a lighter tone than what the
words should’ve sounded like. I was as nervous as hell, I didn’t want to face
mom after she had spoke to me so cruelly and slapped me. The fact that I’d said
that I hated her was sure to get me into trouble as well.
I deliberately took ages walking home,
not stepping on any cracks in the pavement, walking into a newsagents shop and
spending a quarter-of-an-hour choosing the blank-book and packet of sketching
pencils that I didn’t even need (always useful to have though). I eventually
arrived at the gates of my home, I took a very long time unbolting the gate to
get through, though normally I just climbed over it. I was one step away from
counting the blades of grass on the perfectly mown lawn.
I took my key out of my bag, slowly
and deliberately searching each pocket, though I knew exactly where it was,
fumbling with the lock for ten minutes. I eventually let myself in, gave a
shaky call of “I’m home!”, hearing my voice echo through the polished hallway.