First Time

37

Aiden

Remember, remember, the fifth of fucking November.

How can anyone forget when it's the one day every year you could close your eyes and easily feel like you're living through the fucking blitz?

Fireworks started popping off as early as six this morning. Some people clearly struggle with the concept of Bonfire Night. There really should be a law against waking anyone up before 8am at least.

In fact, Bonfire Night should just be banned altogether. It baffles me how we dedicate a night to remembering a guy who tried to blow up parliament.

To be fair, I rate the guy. At least he'll never be forgotten. I'd love to go down in history in infamy. Go out with a bang.

But my life is destined to end as insignificantly as it started.

Anyway, rant over. Since I'm awake now, I might as well get up.

***

I make a conscious effort to be late to school this morning to avoid seeing Emily. If she wants space, I'm more than happy to give it to her.

As usual, some coffee-breath office woman rants on about how being late to school affects my learning and that I should learn to be punctual for when I get a job.

I love how teachers just assume all school kids want to get a job when they finish their education. I'm pretty sure some girls just want to marry a rich guy and some guys just want to make money from drug dealing for the rest of their lives. We don't need to be punctual for any of that.

The day goes by as drab and dull as always. Lesson after lesson of shit I don't care about. Teachers trying to scare us about our GCSEs and how if we don't revise, we will fail. And if we fail, the world is going to end, and aliens will finally take over.

Failing to prepare is preparing to fail.

If I hear that phrase one more time, I'm going to jump out of a window.

And of course, they have to keep hounding us about being safe tonight with fireworks. It's as if they were all given the same script this morning in their staff meeting.

By lunch time, I decide that I can't be arsed with school today. I text the guys that I'll see them tonight at the Bonfire party and make my way out of the school gates.

On my way home, I do a quick check on Twitter and Insta. Mo put a new post up of some boxing gloves and the caption:

Boxing sesh 2nite w my boii Kyle 👊

Alright. At least some good will come from today. Maybe it won't be so shit after all.

***

The Bonfire Bonanza is the usual shit every year. A DJ playing loud club music, stalls selling food, booze and fireworks and thick smoke billowing out of huge bonfires making it impossible to see or fucking breathe.

And it wouldn't be complete without the centrepiece, a burning statue of my main man, Guy Fawkes.

The place is full of drunk teenagers playing around with fireworks and sparklers, shooting them at each other. A good percentage of them doomed to end up in hospital by the end of the night.

You walk on as much shit as you do grass since these pigs can't be bothered to walk three steps to the nearest bin.

All in all, it's great fun!

"You look like a slapped arse, what's wrong with you?" Lace finally asks me as the four of us sip beers near our bonfire.

"It's just the same old shit every year," I whinge as a drunk girl collapses into me then staggers away.