She's Just A Skater Girl

'I'm British, baby.'

I ended up running full speed home, which according to my watch, took about 3 minutes. Well, I guess 13 minutes late wasn't too bad.

And actually, it wasn't too bad compared with Trent. About 7 minutes after me, he arrived out of breath (even though he drove) and red-faced.

I narrowed my eyes at him suspiciously. "How come you're so out of breath if you drove? What have you been doing?"

Trent fidgeted again, a key sign that he was lying. "Nothing.... Not that it's any of your business anyway!" he retorted.

"Well it is some of my business! Honestly, I won't let you go out in England if you can't come back on time! We might as well leave for the airport now, kids! Make sure you've got everything!"

And with that, everything went into complete chaos with everyone trying to get their suitcases, holdalls and various other bits and pieces. Then there was me. I ran up to my bedroom to find my suitcases and bags lined up neatly, just how I had left them. Piece of cake, I thought grinning.

First, I grabbed my small patterned rucksack with things for the 8 hour plane journey and plastic Walmart bag full of skateboarding magazines and the posters from my bathroom – basically my most prized possessions.

After I had quickly loaded those into the front part of the van, I went back up to fetch my suitcase. It was red (my favourite colour) with white polkadots and filled to the brim.

Here we go, one, two...three! On the count of three, I tried to yank up the hefty suitcase, expecting it to jump up easily into the air in my hands. Not a chance. Instead it moved over onto my foot in a small, difficult leap and crushed several of my toes. Nice going, I thought as I struggled to push the monster of a suitcase of my already mangled foot. Looks like I'll be needing some help.

"Treeenntttyy!" I sang, skipping into my brother's room. It was already bare (trust him to be able to lift his suitcases) and he was sitting on the floor, tapping away on his phone. "Wanna help me move my suitcase?" I said, batting my eyelashes.

"No." he grunted.

"But Trenty! I need you help!" I whined. I normally hated that type of whiny girl, who would beg for help in a stupid high-pitched voice while batting their eyelashes just to get what they want; but in this case it was fun and actually annoying Trent, so it was worth it.

Trent sighed, and he was obviously giving in.

"If I do it will you stop bugging me?"

"Sure. Come on, then."

Trent followed me round to my room, and with one easy heave, he lifted up my suitcase.

"W-what? How'd you do that?" I questioned, flabbergasted. I knew Trent was strong, but he made it look so easy, and trust me that suitcase was an absolute rock.

"It's called 4 years of football training, Riles!" he said, scoffing.

"Boasting is a bad habit." I reprimanded as he took the suitcase down to the van. To be honest, I couldn't believe he'd actually done that with minimal complaining. Maybe I'm rubbing off on him...

***

You call me up, it's like a broken record

Say that your heart hurts

That you never got over him getting over you

And you end up crying

And I end lying

Cause I'm just a sucker for everything that you do