My angry thoughts soon melt away into remorseful ones as I push my knotty hair back and sink against the nearest wall in the corridor, defeated. Regret fills me as I think of my phone in Professor Hartley's hands and his pitiful gaze sweeping across the barrage of messages flooding my screen. Sometimes I'm looking for pity to feel better about myself, but I certainly don't want it right now and definitely not from him.
A sniggering group of students walk past me, bright smiles lighting their faces as they pass by me without a glance.
I sigh, leaning my heated head against my hands to calm the fiery anger screaming inside me. It won't affect me, anyway. They live far away now, they've always been disappointed in me, I've always failed - none of this will change.
But there's just something in this situation that shatters the perfect illusion of family my naive twelve year old self believed in.
Dragging myself out of the abyss of negative thoughts I've plunged myself into, I get to my feet and head towards the elevator to grab something to eat. With all the drama that's happened today, I haven't even had a chance to eat or realise what the gnawing pain in my stomach is - hunger.
As I arrive at the canteen, my eyes immediately settle on a rowdy group of students. Martha-May-June-July is amongst them, makeup layered on like pastry and hair so straightened that it looks drier than straw. I tighten my jaw, dig my nails into my palms, and walking away from them towards the queue, my hunger stopping me from punching her square in the fake face and making a dramatic exit. So far she's said nothing to make me hate her as much as I do, but if there's one thing I despise, it's sniggering and talking behind someone's back.
I'm stopped before I get in the queue by Grant. His face is lit with a pearly smile as I force my anger to simmer down so my sour mood doesn't spread to him.
"Hey," he greets as I manage to push aside my everlasting family problems to reply with a, "What's up?"
He shrugs, "I don't know, I was wondering if you were still mad at me for asking about the rumours."
"That was less than 45 minutes ago, dork," I say flatly, "But I was just in a bad mood because of all the work I need to do to catch up. Trust me, I'm not missing another lecture."
With a little laugh, he gestures towards the table where he was sitting as I give up on grabbing myself breakfast when Martha-Mongoose heads for the line, probably to get some water with a side of air. I take a seat opposite Grant, a heavy sigh leaving me unintentionally as the parent situation lingers in the back of my mind, testing my patience and self-control.
Oh, how I wish I could reach in there and rip it out of me.
"What's wrong?" Grant asks as I shrug and don't offer a reply.
He pushes his plate of food towards me and I accept half of his sandwich with a 'thanks', my mind too scrambled to feel bad about taking his food, "It's nothing, just English," I lie through my teeth, making eye contact to make it more believable as I take a bite of sandwich.
Ew. Whose idea was it to put cheese and onion inbetween two pieces of bread? Why ruin cheese like that? I swallow with some trouble, desperate for a drink of water.
"Don't worry about that, I can help you out tomorrow if you want?" he offers as I decline quickly, not wanting my parents to come and scare off any potential friends.
"No, it's fine, I'll just work through it slowly. What have you got planned for today?" I ask, putting the sandwich down inconspicuously as he makes a sound of indifference.
"I dunno," he starts, "Well, actually..."
He pauses, as if carefully selecting his word choice, "I was going to ask out this girl I've liked for a little while."
My eyebrows raise as a smile infiltrates my face, "That's cute! I'm sure she likes you back," I encourage as his eyes widen a little.
"Really?" he asks, strangely shocked, "I was getting the impression that she wasn't interested."
I laugh, "Well I mean, I don't know who the girl is but if you like her she must be pretty cool."
With that, I stand up, making a beeline for the exit, "Catch you later?"
He remains quiet as I head out, regretting my choice of social interaction as the weight of the divorce pushes down on my shoulders as heavily as lead. I don't make it out before a giggly tone of voice directed towards me pierces through my ears.
"Look, guys, it's the girl who's sucking off Professor Hartley to get less shitty grades," she cackles like a witch as her group of friends snicker.
Keep. Fucking. Walking. I chant to myself, my inner badass cracking her knuckles and preparing to fight a bitch. This isn't secondary school anymore, but how wrong of me to think that the annoying taunting and giggling from the popular crowd would stop.
Leaving their laughter behind, I soon end up in the elevator and mash my finger into the button for the top floor, finally breathing as the doors close. As aesthetically pleasing as our english professor is, why on bloody Jupiter would I suck him off to get better grades? He's stiffer than a brick, and I don't mean down there - he's boring as fuck. It wouldn't even work, that guy isn't the lenient kind. Besides, even if was guaranteed to work, I wouldn't do that - okay, maybe I would, I am that desperate, but still - who wants 'choked on dick' written on their gravestone? And what even gives her the right to put me down for bad grades? Every single one of us in this damn university are here because our grades were as awful as each other's. She probably did worse in her GCSEs than I did, at least I got a freaking C in English.
I'm so wrapped out in my thoughts that I don't register the elevator door opening. With a deep exhale, I head towards room H2, praying that Professor Hartley isn't in.
I swipe my student card over the handle and it clicks open. Opening the door, I pause for a moment.
Thank god - he's nowhere to be seen. Spotting my phone on the desk (definitely not where it dropped when I threw it at the door), I throw it face down on my unmade bed, not in the mood to deal with the texts.
That same, persistent feeling of dread fills me as I'm left alone in a silent room to sort through my thoughts. My hair isn't dry from my shower earlier and still falls around me, leaving a damp shadow on my shirt. My first two days at university have had enough drama for my entire life. First I'm late to my first lecture of the year, then I get roomed with my professor, then I completely miss my second lecture of the year, then I run into the most bitchy group of girls in the world, then I get told my parents are getting divorced, and then I get accused of sucking dick.
These are the times where I wish I had friends. I reach for my bag, pulling out my old laptop and setting it on my lap. My mind flits to my older sister. Out of all the people of my family, Lara was the only one who would come to me while I was sobbing away at my most recent failure in school and tell me that it was okay and she'd always be there for me. I lean back in my bed and start up my laptop, pulling the sleeves of my jumper down around my fingers out of habit.
Finding Skype, I hesitantly click on her icon. We used to talk a lot when I was younger, but in the past few years before I left for university, she drifted apart as she focussed on her studies more and found a boyfriend. The dialling sound continues for a few moments. I'm about to hang up as it suddenly clicks, there's some crackling sounds, and the face of my sister comes into view.
"Hey, Quo!" she greets, as bubbly as I remember her.
"Hey," I reply, all awkwardness disappearing as a wave of nostalgia washes over me.
She ties her dark blonde hair back, warm brown eyes meeting mine, "You don't look so good. What happened? How is university?"
I sigh, preparing myself to get into it, "Nothing like yours was, I assure you."
She laughs a little at that, "Come on, Quorra, it can't be that bad. What's happened?"
I end up spending the next hour relaying every tiny detail about the past two days to her, feeling the burden lift of my chest, leaving only one ligering in the back of my mind. She gasps and sends angry glares at all the right moments, making me laugh and respond with 'I know!' way too often. As soon as I'm done, she leans back, as if the news physically blew her away.
"Whoa," she comments as I nod, throat dry.
I haven't talked to anyone or revealed that much to anyone at all in the past few days.
"Martha-Mulberry sounds like a total bitch. At least you have a hot professor though, mine were ugly as hell," she tries to lift my spirits as I shrug.
"I guess those glasses are pretty cute," I mutter with a sigh, "But nothing seems to be going right at all. And hey," I remember, throwing my hands in the air, "Mum and dad are visiting tomorrow."
She quirks an eyebrow before understanding sweeps across her perfect features, "Oh... Yeah, that. How are you dealing with that?"
"When did you find out?" I ask, preparing for disappointment.
Lara shrugs, thinking back, "I've been busy moving in with Bennett these past few days so I di-"
"WHAT THE FUCK?! LARA! You moved in with him?! WHEN WERE YOU PLANNING ON TELLING ME, YOU MUPPET?!" I shout through the scream, jaw six feet under and family issues discarded.
She slowly brings her hand closer to the screen and I'm utterly confused until, among the cloudy pixels, I spot a silver band around her ring finger.
I immediately hang up on her, speechless.
They're engaged?!
She calls me back instantly, and it's as if I can hear her laughter from my dorm room even before I pick up again. As soon as we connect, she apologises.
"I'm sorry, don't yell at me! I have headphones in! I was going to tell you tomorrow, I was planning on coming to visit with mum and dad," she explains.
"Are you still coming?" I ask, adding a pinch of sugar to my sour mood.
The look she gives me makes me cross my arms and lean back, knowing the answer already.
"Come on, Quo. I want to but Bennett and I are busy tomorrow," she looks upset at my reaction.
I sigh, "Well now we're just two lemons staring sadly at each other through the screen. You shouldn't have told me in the first place."
A silence passes as she fiddles with the ring on her finger, "Sorry, sis. But how are you dealing with.. you know?"
I don't answer, glad that the screen can't detect the tears of frustration behind my eyes, "I'm fine. It won't affect me now that I'm staying at university anyway. I won't be able to tell the difference."
She knows me like the back of her hand, "I know you're lying. Quorra, Skype me whenever, okay? I don't care if it's two in the morning and you're upset because you dropped your burrito."
I can't stifle a laugh at the image that brings to mind - it's really something I'd do.
"I promised you I'd always be there for you, and I'm not breaking that promise. Let me know what happens tomorrow, okay?"
I nod as she smiles at the screen, the perfect angel I know my parents love more than their other disappointment of a daughter, "Love you, Quo."
"Love you too, Lara," I return, about to hang up.
"And oi - don't go around sucking anyone off for good grades, it's not worth it."
She hangs up as I roll my eyes and close my laptop, feeling refreshed. It was easy enough for her to comfort me - she came out with a dozen A*s and an A in Further Maths (A was the highest you could get but she was still upset). Oh, how I wish the intellect wasn't watered down through each sibling. Frankly, we're worried for my youngest brother, Jayse.
Now all there is to do is wait for my parents to turn up tomorrow before all hell breaks loose.
Checking my watch, I find that I have a while before my 4 o'clock lecture.
Let's try and be on time for this one...