Evol

chapter nine

author's note -

hi babies! have an amazing day and please remember to vote!!

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Monday 3rd June, 2019

Day 1.

I woke up earlier than my alarm.

Dark eyes were already in my mind, and I rolled out of bed, stretching despite the pain.

I avoided my reflection in the mirror. I knew it was just going to look worse.

Shoving on jeans and a yellow jumper, I packed my bag and lurched downstairs.

Mum winced when she saw me. "Is it still too sore to put make-up on?"

"It hurts to touch, Mother."

"Come get some breakfast." Dad called from behind the paper. Usually I'd refuse, but I was early and actually needed something.

So I sat, pushing my glasses onto my head. "Wow," Mum muttered. "She sat."

"I'm early," I said, buttering some toast and biting into it slowly, careful not to re-open the cut on my lip. "This toast is good."

Mum turned her beady eyes on me. "What do you want?"

I closed my eyes. Busted. "Nothing."

"Come on. Who compliments toast, of all things? Go on and ask."

"It's nothing!"

Dad peeked around the newspaper. "Darling, what is it?" He asked.

"Fine." I put the toast down. "I need $18."

Mum crossed her arms, sitting down. "What for?"

Dad was watching me now. I sighed, "do you remember Friday night?"

Both faces tightened.

"I already had plasters on. A friend bought them for me, and I need to pay them back."

"$18 for plasters?" Her voice was suspicious, as always.

"I put on cream and had a pack of frozen peas."

Dad dug in his pocket, tossed the money over. I smiled at him gratefully. "There you are, honey. Tell them thank you from us. God bless them."

I nodded, knowing I wasn't going to include the last part. Pocketing the money, I was out in ten minutes.

There was a nervous buzz in my stomach on the way to school; I put it down to the injury and people seeing my face in school. What else could it be?

Getting out, I locked my yellow Beetle and spied the person I was after in the corner of the lot, lounging on a black classic. His friends surrounded him, and I ignored flashbacks of Friday night as I walked over.

Julian was smoking, taking long drags. A thick cloud floated around him. Strangely, though, he wasn't looking at me.

I stopped in front of him, ignoring the stares I got. "Hey."

He didn't look.
"Hey," I repeated, and his friends turned to smirk at me. I was careful not to look at Bleu, the ginger one.

Julian took another drag. "Julian," I said, inching closer. This was weird.

He turned his head, blew smoke in my face. I coughed on it, in my nose. "What are you doing? Passive smoking is as bad as if you smoked yourself!"

When the smoke cleared, I froze. Julian was looking at me, but there was no recognition in his eyes. They were flat, dark, cold as ice.