Lipgloss on your Wings - Branded Angel Novels book 1

Chapter 6

   Hilary Duff came on telling me to ‘wake up, wake up on a Saturday night’ but I was all to aware it was actually Thursday morning. Early. I couldn’t get to my phone quick enough to switch off my alarm ring tone, there’s only so much cheery song about going out you can take with a monster hangover.

My eyes wouldn’t open all the way so I had a half blind shower and half blindedly had to decide what I was going to wear on my maybe or maybe not date. I settled for my black denim, high waisted, gold-button up shorts which flared out on the legs slightly and come to just above the knee, opaque black tights, a black and white striped baggy cropped t-shirt and a red long sleeved plain cardigan and tan colour brogue style heels. I put it all in my trusted leopard print tote (which me and Boiye had luckily ran back to my house before going to the woods last night) with just enough room for my badminton kit.

   I actually have my own badminton racket, shuttlecock and carry bag, that I carry separately, I got it from work when someone bought it in a while ago because it was a bargain and it makes me look sporty, which is a really hard look for me to pull off.

   Boiye picked me up as usual, he looked great. The only telltale sign that he’d been knocking back vodka like it was going out of fashion, was that he was slightly red around the eyes. But really, I was just being picky, trying to find something to make me feel better about looking like a scarecrow.

   I slumped into the car with a groan as my aching limbs complained at me. “Just don’t say anything.” Boiye closed his mouth, gave me that knowing smile and we drove quietly to school.

   The school day passed quickly but with a throbbing headache it wasn’t quite quick enough. I’d swallowed down tablets before leaving for school and had two more at lunch, by history fifth period I was feeling a lot more human and less zombie. My spirits weren’t completely lifted by my recovery, due to the fact Alaster hadn’t said anything to me all day about that evening, in fact I was feeling down right sorry for myself. I found some comfort in the fact that Jarryd was at school, unscathed, and apparently unaware of the mob that came hunting him in the woods afterwards.

   I hadn’t mentioned what I’d seen to anyone, I didn’t want Jarryd to worry if there was nothing to worry about. Despite everything, almost everyone had turned up for school looking all different kinds of shit, almost everyone meaning Diane Lloyd was absent, probably didn’t want anyone to see her looking rough, heaven forbid. Otherwise she’d overdone it on the shots, which wasn’t unlikely.

   Me, Boiye and Alaster arrived at Media for last lesson, Jarryd and Addison came in a minute later from Science and we sat in acknowledging silence for a short while, aware that last night we’d all drank to much and very aware it was nearly the end of the school day. Of course, me and Boiye still had an hour and a half of badminton club to endure after that final bell rang.

   “A, we need to get motivated for badminton, we’ve got to kick Mr and Mrs Hutchins’ asses!” He made a violent fist into palm gesture.

   “Boiye, she’s my boss, and they’re, like, in their 60’s. You can’t talk about kicking their asses, even if it is at playing badminton.”

   “Whatever girlfriend, she’s your boss but it’s a job where you don’t even get paid, and I know they’re in their 60’s but that’s exactly why we need to beat them this time… because they’ve beaten us three times in a row now, it’s just embarrassing.”

   I looked down, impulsively. “I don’t get paid money for my job true, but it’s rewarding in other ways.” As in, making me feel like I’m doing something, anything, to at least begin to try to make up to the universe for what my mother did. Addison and Alaster each let out a snort of mockery at my mushy line, of course they would they didn’t know what had happened. Boiye knew everything, how I felt about it, every day. How, even though he never got to actually reply, I miss speaking to him. How, even though he never got to open his eyes once to see me, I miss seeing him. How even though he never knew me, nor I him, I loved him. Melvin Glendale was sixty seven years old, he was in a coma for five days, before he passed away, after being hit at fifty miles per hour by my mum.