I WAS JUST TRYING TO BE FUNNY | ✓

▬ 08

I HOPE IT'S YOUR BONES THAT SHATTER, NOT MINE

            I've barely stepped from behind the Thatcher billboard before someone calls my name. White coat billowing, kicking back gravel, an ER nurse races toward me down the path. My knees nearly collapse under me. Until I blink.

It's just Miles.

He slows to a halt in front of me and plucks the white earphones from his ears to wrap them around his iPod as I do my best not to choke on my heart. 'Hey.' He smiles. 'What're you doing?' 

'Planning a terror attack,' I snap, pleased that my voice is sharp and doesn't give away the fact blood is still gushing in my ears.

The energy in his posture wanes as he massages his collarbone, however, he decides to brush past his discomfort and speaks in a tone that attempts a few seconds of time travel. 'It's good I found you.' Were you looking? 'I were wondering if you could tutor me in maths too.'

Gravel grousing under my trainers, I turn and continue my way home. This is why Sonia should've lied. 'No chance.'

'I'll pay you, obviously.' He falls into step beside me and I accelerate my pace. 'I need a B for my offer, and if I don't get into uni, my dad'd be so disappointed and Má will kill me.'

I glower at his dusty New Balances. Why do people keep acting like their personal ambitions are my problem? 'Find an actual tutor, innit.'

'Then I'll have to tell my mum. If you help, I can pretend we're just hanging out, like.'

As if I'd hang out with him. Jaw clenched, I redirect my glare from his trainers to meet his eyes. 'Why can't your besties help?'

'They're dense...'

Oh, Kilometres! What grand deduction skills you have.

As if he reads this from my mind, he drops his head forward for a laugh. Then his near-black eyes pour into mine, sticky as date syrup that'll stain me for days no matter how hard I scrub my skin, and he brings his hands together to beg. 'Look, the only GCSE I got an A in were PE.'

This alone would be enough to infuriate me and it certainly suffices as the last straw. Somehow, I manage to speak with every muscle in my face and neck flexed to the point of snapping. 'Who the frick does PE for GCSEs?'

'Those of us who weren't child prodigies.' Is he trying to be funny? If he is, he accurately gouges from my expression that I'm entirely unamused and gives a dog-like shake of the head. 'How much does Sonia pay?'

'Tenner.'

'I'll pay fifteen.'

How is possible that every time I think we've reached the peak of how much he can do my head in, he reveals a whole new mountain? 'I'm not gonna make you pay me fifteen and her pay me ten when you live here and she lives in Eastwick.'

Clamping hands over my eyes, I curse myself for being weak enough to care. He is not my problem. He is not my problem. I have my own exams to pass. Don't–

'Fine. Ten is calm.' I interrupt before he can get too excited. 'But only if you let me ask you an intrusive question.'

Miles freezes. He wipes the sweat from his forehead with his wrist. 'Er... sure.'

'Why do you live here?'

The question is vague but he understands exactly what I'm trying to get at. 'My grandparents pay my tuition — my dad's parents. My mum's too proud to "accept handouts" but they only let us move here under the condition we go to "proper" school. Not that they ever said nowt bout the state school I went to in Leeds so I dunno why they care.'