STYLE • Derry Girls

1.3.1

"I just can't get my head around it." Erin frowns as she stares at a photo of her dog, "The fact that he's gone forever."

"It's so sad, it really is," Clare nods, "It is so, so sad. But at the same time, what's done is done, so let's crack on." She taps her revision with her pen and Erin makes a face,

"Well, I'm sorry, Clare. Had his sudden, tragic death interrupted your studies?"

Clare takes a sip of her energy drink before nodding, "Well, it has a bit actually, yeah."

"How can you be so heartless?"

Orla chimes up from the back of the room, "Don't cry, Erin, he's in a better place now. Unless he's not, you know, because he's gone to hell."

Michelle's loud voice is what wakes Maeve from her slumber, "Can we please talk about something about else? I'm half torn - this is wrecking my head."

Maeve groans as she sits up from where her head had been resting on Michelle's lap, her head spinning and a sickly feeling in her stomach.

"What?" Erin snaps, "Have you been drinking?"

"Yes, I have," Michelle nods, "And so has Maeve. And for future reference, if any of you invite me to a study sleepover again, and I'm desperate enough to accept an invitation, there's a good chance I'll have a litre bottle of Pernod in my bag."

"Ugh, I feel bokey." Maeve grimaces, holding her head to try and soothe the aching.

"Lightweight." Michelle snorts and the Murphy girl slaps her arm.

"I shouldn't even have to sit the exam," Erin says, "On, you know, compassionate grounds."

"Ach he was a dog, Erin," Maeve snaps, "Just buy one of the same breed and give it the same name - it'll be like it didn't even die."

The other girl gasps, "I can't just replace him! Toto was much more than a dog, Maeve, Toto was my best friend."

Michelle shifts uncomfortably besides Maeve, "Christ, I feel a bit bokey too." She stands up and heads over to the window, drawing the curtains to get some fresh air.

Noticing the sunlight outside, Clare panics, "Sweet suffering Jesus! It's morning already? What are we going to do?"

"Maybe we could start by calming the fuck down." Michelle raises her voice and Maeve stands up and heads over to the window for some fresh air too, in hopes of it curing her nausea.

"Calm down?" Clare asks loudly, "We're still on William of Orange! We haven't so much as looked at the famine!"

"We've got the gist, they ran out of spuds. Everyone was raging."

"Can everyone just bring their volume down!" Maeve snaps, "Right now it's at about a 7 and if it raises anymore I'm gonna boke, so bring it down to a 2."

"Well, I can't tell my rebellions from my risings." James comments, his voice much lower than the girls'.

"And whose faults that? If your lot stopped invading us for five fucking minutes, there would be a lot less to wade through!" Michelle tells him and, of course, Maeve has to add her two cents,

"English prick."

Maeve rolls her eyes when she takes notice of Clare starting to hyperventilate, "Nothings going in. Nothing is going in and every time I try to make notes, it..." she lifts her shaking hand up with wide eyes, "What's happening to me?"

"There's quite a lot of caffeine in those, Clare." James points out, "How many have you had?"

"I don't know, five? Twenty three?"