To Be Honest

Truth or Dare and a Bubble Bath

Sometimes even a bubble bath can't mend a crushed soul.

I lay chin deep in floral soup, heat lights on, magazines piled on a pop up rack beside the bathtub, my face lathered in green mush- yet I still feel down.

Four long tedious days have passed since my expulsion. I have spent them caged inside these stupid forty-six walls, eating chinese takeaway with only my mum for company. Together we have watched 3 seasons of Gossip Girl with manicure and pedicure breaks inbetween and icecream on the stand-by. I had just excused myself from episode 1 of season 4 to have a bath. I can hardly deal with my own life at the moment- yet alone the lives of six melodramatic teenagers. Mum had nodded and smiled, saying she'd be downstairs if I needed her.

Mum is the only one on my side after the whole event has passed. Dad hasn't talked to me since the day it happened. He flew off for a conferance in Brazil and the only thing I've heard from him since is through email- suggesting online courses, apprenticeships, community service and an ad from the local bar, hiring waitresses. He's clearly given up on any previous ambitions he had planned for me. I have heard nothing from any of my friends, whom I had gather from recent facebook pages created (R.I.P Emily, Rest in peace E.P, The Danger of Drugs- Emily Parton, Emily is Gone:(, etc) believe me to be dead. I can't bare to get in contact with them, it's too embarrassing, better off they think me dead. My mum, on the other hand, has become my new best friend- cleaned my smudged mascara in the back seat of the car on the way home, made me warm soup in bed and sat with me as we ate, constantly telling me that everything is going to be alright. She's the best.

I don't really know why I'm so upset. It's just expulsion. But I mean, where do you go from here? What else is there? Something crazy thing like this to tarnish your record definitely narrows the choices down. Every ambition, every goal I've ever had, they are too high for me to reach now, slowly being covered in dust. I have always been the kind of girl that has every step set out before her, mostly by other people. But the step before me have slipped though the cracks in the pavement, and if anymore steps are laid there, they'd fall too.

I hear a knock on the door. Mum speaks softly to me through the other side of it.

"Sorry baby, I know I said I'd leave you be, but we've lost gas so I'm getting take-out. Is that cool with you?"

Woken from my serenity, I feel the chill of the water and shiver. How long have I been in here? "Yeah mum, I'll be out in a tick."

I listen as her footsteps fade down the hallway, the metronome click of heels on tiles. I sigh.

Everything echoes- the splash of water as I drag myself from bath to out-of-bath, the splat of green face mask down the sink, the scream from the drainage hole as I pull the plug, the slurp as the final puddle of water disappears. I refuse the creeping thought that that resembles my future, the last dregs down the drain. I'm not that far gone ,yet, am I? I still have a little puddle of hope left. I stare myself in the mirror.

"Pull yourself together babe."

I rinse my face, apply moisturiser and waddle down the hall in my trackies and uggboots. This has become my daily outfit- mum doesn't seem to mind, and no one else ever sees me. As I enter the kitchen I hear mum's voice. "...of prawn crackers, cool, yup that's it, mmhm, thanks, yup, zero four, zero six...". I slump onto the sofa and reach for the remote.

Steamos steam vacuum cleaner will clean anything, look at that, every carpet, every floor, there is nothing steamos can't-

*click*

And the fight for women's equal pay conti-

*click*

That's right gabby! Four plus four is eight! What is five plus f-

I switch it off, just as mum walks in.

"I ordered from Rina's dal, the usual, what 'cha doing?"

"There's nothing on TV." I reply. She scoots over to me on the couch.

"Aw, don't be like that. TV is boring anyway, why don't we play a game?"

I roll my eyes. "Like what?" I ask.

"Like... truth or dare!"

"Noooo," I groan, and cover my face with a pillow.

"Party pooper." She crosses her arms over her chest.

"Hmmpf." I huff, and cross my arms too. I see her look over at me out of the corner of her eye and I start to giggle. She looks ridiculous, with her hair in rollers and a childish frown on her face. She looks like the talking stuffed animal on TV from a couple of seconds ago. As my laughter, muffled by the pillow, drags on- she joins in, reaching over and grabbing my waist, wriggling her fingers evilly. I roll on the floor in hysterics, flailing wildly as she tickle tortures me.

"Okay, okay, fine!" I give in. She lets go. "As long as you don't make it like, super embarrassing."

"Okay, okay, fine!" Mum begins in a high-pitched whining voice, imitating my earlier pleas. I shove the pillow at her stomach and she doubles over. My mother is a beautiful woman, with bobbed, mousy brown hair and tanned skin. People used to say I look like her, but I think we're polar opposites. My hair is a warm blonde, and she has a soft, rounded face where I have higher cheekbones and more pointed features. I used to wish I looked like her, but right now, even as she laughs, she looks old and tired. I want to reach out and hug her- for so many years I have been blind to what my mum has done for me, how much it has worn her down.

What have I done.

"Can I start?" She asks, snapping me back to reality. Without waiting for an answer she continues.

"Truth or dare."

"Dare." I reply, knowing that this is my safest option.

"Ooh," She teases. Her face lights up. "I know." She runs off into the kitchen, and I hear draws opening and closing. Her head pokes above the counter top,

"Left hand or right hand?"

"What?"

"Left hand or right hand?!"

"..Right hand?"

More bashing and scraping.

"Left hand or right hand?"

"Left hand." I respond more confidently. She cackles, placing another item behind her back.

"Left hand or right hand?"

"Left hand, how long is this going to go for?"

In response I hear the sound of the blender whirring, drowning out any answer she might have had for me. Minutes later she emerges, in her hand a glass of watered-down pink/brown slush.

"No way." I say, backing up against the couch. She takes a step closer.

"No, I am not doing anything with that."

"Nope, you picked dare," She gloats. "Drink it."

"Muuuuumm" I whinge.

"Do it." She says. I snatch the glass from her and poke out my tongue, take a swig... and spit it out.

"Eugherhh" I mouth, tongue lolling out. She is lying on the floor, wheezing for breath, tears in her eyes, squawking like a mad woman.

"You-" She pants. "Your face-"

"Oh HAHA" I say sarcastically. "You're not that  funny"

She collapses into another fit of laughter, and I can't help but laugh too.

The taste still ingers on my tongue."What did you do to me?" I moan.

Her face straightens.

"Vinegar, chocolate, and pizza sauce." She says triumphantly. I gag.