Chapter 6

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"You're staying at a hotel?"

"Mum, where would you put Alex? On the lounge?"

She bites her bottom lip as she thinks about it.

"Do you think that is appropriate for the future king?"

"No you are right." she sighs. "We just miss you that's all."

"I know."

I hug her hard. She looks at my uniform as I put it on. The smell of the detergent still lingers in the white cotton shirt. I try to tuck it into the skirt. My mother fusses over me, pressing out the pleats of the blue and white tartan skirt. Tiny gold and red lines run through it, tying in the school emblem colours.

"Don't you think that a longer skirt might be ideal for your graduation?"

"They are all this length."

She frowns at me.

"Hey, you were the one who taught me how to sew."

"Hurry up then, your father will want to get a good car park."

"Oh, the driver will take us."

Her face lights up like she's just won the lottery.

"Driver?"

I nod as I slip on the blazer.

"Drop us at the door and just one phone call away for when we are ready to leave."

"Ok." She smiles.

We walk out to the lounge, my father engrossed in a football match. Alex regards me coolly as he looks at the skirt.

"Did you want something to eat or drink before we go?"

"No thanks mum."

She wanders into the kitchen as Alex gets up to me.

"Did you forget to put your skirt on?"

"It's not that short. Jeez."

"And the school allowed this... attire?" He says with derision.

"Well, I wouldn't say allowed."

He looks around, my mother still in the kitchen, my father has his back to us. Alex gets a wicked grin on his face. He pulls me in, his hand making its way down the skirt, trying to find the hem.

"Make sure it comes back to the house with us." he says lowly.

My jaw drops at his cheekiness.

"Dirty boy." I whisper.

Mrs Bryson is waiting at the front of the school, in anticipation of our arrival, and by that I mean Alex. In all of the graduation ceremonies I have seen happen at this school, I don't ever think I have seen one like this. The gardens and pathway to the hall are clean and looking perfect. The auditorium looks like it has been scrubbed so that it is pristine and Mrs Bryson looks like she has spent a week at a salon in preparation. The driver stops and scurries to the door, opening it. I step out and my parents follow.

"Mrs Bryson, you remember my parents, Mary and Dale?"

For a moment I wonder if she does remember my parents and all the times they were called to the school for when I skipped gym class, the cigarettes found in my bag during a random bag search, getting paid to do other students assignments. The list was long. In the end they agreed that I was bored and was acting out, so they fixed it. Additional work, assignments and classes, anything to keep me occupied.

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