I sat at the backside of the classroom, the sweet scent of the autumn leaves played with my nose. The sun blazed down, through the trees and into the uncovered window beside me. The light was almost blinding. An unexpected draft danced through a partially open vent and across my desk, blowing my papers up gracefully. I smiled to myself, as I watched them dance the same dance the wind had previously danced. Up, down, loop the loop and repeat. It was fascinating to watch, but the excitement of autumn break was hastily creeping upon me. Mrs Maurice, who was my teacher for most lessons rambled on about how we all must be safe, because she wants to see us all together the first day back, and no injuries… She was a small, frail character. Her face was a little craggy and of an ebony colour. Eyeliner, Lipstick, Mascara. Eeek! At least she made an effort, I guess?! Her short, curly, dark brown hair bounced around as she sprung around the classroom, she was so excited, and she just couldn’t hide it…
Although, the enjoyment and happiness was soon to be wrecked, as the day that my boyfriend was due home from his early break in America edged closer… I saw it as the day my suffering was to begin again.
The bell rang a song. Well, I lied. It is ‘supposed’ to sound like a song on the last day before the holidays, specifically the song, “Celebrate Good Times”. But, it really doesn’t. Anyway, Mrs Maurice sighed heavily as she was, once again interrupted in one of her month long speeches. However, deep sighs of relief jumped around the classroom, to the fact that she had no choice but to stop talking. Everyone rushed out, but as always, I strolled unhurriedly across the classroom, and was the last one out, but that was no surprise. I made my way to the school’s main reception, and let myself out the school door. Giggles and shouts of the eager students pierced through me, making me feel somewhat jealous with every second. I picked up my pace, and rushed across the field to my home.
My house isn’t so big; it’s just of an average size really. Two floors, not including the attic, 2 bedrooms, and 3 bedrooms including the attic. My brother and me share a room. Well, he has his stuff on 95% of the room, and I have my desk, and my bed that is actually free for me to use. Yeah, It sucks but the world keeps on turning. I approached the door and dug through my bag to find my key to open the door. I headed in, threw my things all over the kitchen floor without a care in the world. You see my parents are away so I don’t have to look out for these things until the day before they are due home. I skipped into the living room, I guessed, since my happiness wasn’t going to be here long, I might as well make the most of it. I switched on the stereo, and turned it up. Luckily, one of my favourite songs blurted out at me. More importantly, there was a strange smell that hung around the house. It smelt a little of paint, but more of cookies. ‘Oooh! Maybe momma made me cookies before she left!’ I thought to myself hungrily. I hurried into the kitchen and ripped open the cupboard. There they were, mint chocolate chip cookies, sat all alone on the middle shelf. Taunting me. The only thing that was missing was Hallelujah music, a gospel choir and a beam of light that shone directly onto them. Damn! My momma knows me too well. I snatched them out of the cupboard and slashed them open. The sugary fragrance clambered up my nose, forcing me to devour them right away. I left two on the kitchen counter for later, when I was a little peckish but couldn’t quite be arsed to cook something.
‘Beep.’ My eyes lit up, as my phone vibrated near my, err, man areas. I pulled it out and checked it. ‘One New Message’. I smiled, as I always do when I get a new text. ‘From Logan – Hey you. I’m coming home a day early. I will be at your house in around 15minutes, make sure your in, make sure the doors open, and there better, and I mean, there better be a drink of some form waiting for me. You know what I like.’ My heart picked up to an abnormal pace, I rushed around, getting out cans of lager, bottles of vodka, bottles of rum. All the alcohol I could find. I had forgot what he likes. I knew it was one of them. But which one? I took a chance, and poured him a class of vodka, and mixed it with tropical fruit squash. I know, that’s the squash he likes…
The door crashed open minutes later; I had just finished putting away the bottles as his heavy footsteps echoed around the house. His largely built figure came around the doorframe, and towards the glass of Vodka Tropical I had just made. He looked at it puzzled for a moment and then took a swig. His face went of a crimson shade. He looked directly at me. He looked angry. He made his way closer and closer to me, drink in one hand, the other clenched tightly and his teeth were gritted.
“This isn’t what I like?” He growled, throwing it over my new jacket. The glass fell to the floor, and smashed at my feet. “You know this isn’t what I like!” He took a firm grip of the collar of my jacket, and pulled me across the kitchen, pushing my face close to the bottle of rum that stood innocently amongst the overrun of beer my parents had bought over the years. I nodded in fear; he let me go. I hurried to get it ready for him, tripping and stumbling over the broken glass that was scattered on the floor. I passed him his drink, and he took it in one drink. This was going to be a long night. A very, long night.
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-Adam (TheMuFFin)
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