"You were still in nappies at five years of age?"

I sigh and shake my head at my own idiocy. "Well I set myself up for that one." To hide my pink cheeks, I grab my bag and pull out my lunch. "Want half?" He shakes his head, but I know he does. n.o.body can resist my awesome sandwiches, especially after already having a taste. "That's a shame. I made two, just in case..." I hold up the foil wrapped eight inch baguette and smile when it's s.n.a.t.c.hed from my hand. "You're welcome."

He merely responds with a groan at his first bite. I smile at my work and once more put my pen to the paper, feeling pleased with having pleased him.

I haven't felt this happy in a while now. Though the second the bell rings and I exit the cla.s.sroom, my good feeling is gone.

"I think I'm depressed," I say to my dad when he gets in from a tiring day of work.

He stops, his tools in hand and a bag over his shoulder. I watch the door close behind him on its own and then look at my shoes to hide the embarra.s.sment in my eyes. "Why do you think that? You seem fine to me."

"I'm just... I feel down. Nothing makes me laugh anymore and nothing makes me happy."

He drops his things on the ground and leans forward to kiss me on the head. "Is it your monthly?"

"Oh my G.o.d!" I cringe and back away. "Why has everything got to be about a girl's period? Maybe I'm actually depressed."

"Okay," he sighs and tilts his head. "What can I do?"

My mouth drops open. "Are you serious? You're my dad! You're the adult! You're the one who's supposed to tell me what to do!" He opens and closes his mouth, struggling for what to say. "Forget it. Forget I said anything."

"You know, it would be nice if I could one day come home to a smiling face for a change," he shouts as I stomp my way up the stairs.

"And it would be nice if my home was a happy one for a change!" I shout back and slam my bedroom door, effectively ending the conversation.

Tears of frustration fall, but I stop them after the first three. They're useless tears that will only make me feel worse.

Eloise: Do you want to sneak out?

Hayley: Need you ask? Meet you at the church in five?

Eloise: Bring a bottle of something strong.

Hayley: All I've got is a bottle of Jack left over from last weekend.

Eloise: Wicked! :D I'm on my way.

I lock my bedroom door and switch off the light. I doubt my dad will bother me now. When he's in a sulk, he's as bad as I am. His pride won't let him say he's sorry and I'll be d.a.m.ned if I'm going to say I'm sorry to him.

Outside my window there's a ledge that leads to the conservatory. I grab my bag and quickly climb out. My top gets stuck on the corner and tears slightly when I drop to the ledge.

b.u.g.g.e.r.

This is one of my favourites.

Pushing my anger at my own idiocy from my mind, I carefully make my way towards the corner of the ledge where a wooden pillar holds it from the ground, watching my feet on the tiles so as not to dislodge any.

Right, I've done this before. I can do it again.

Inhaling a large breath, I crouch and slide myself over the edge so only my top half is clinging to the tiles and my bottom half is dangling as my feet try to find the pillar. When they make contact my heart steadies its rhythm, giving me enough time and courage to lower myself further and wrap my thighs around the narrow wood.

With one last move and with trembling hands, I push myself even further over the edge, using my legs as an anchor to the wood, until I'm only holding onto the ledge with my fingers.

I blow out the breath I was holding and finally release one leg to find the porch fence with my foot.

When I'm safely on the ground my relief is unimaginable. Why the h.e.l.l am I doing this again?

Who cares, let's get drunk and forget about it.

Chapter Eight.

Eloise "Coffee," I grumble as I walk into Crystal's and fortunately she hands me a coffee the second I step behind the counter.

"You look awful," she tells me, clucking her tongue and rolling her eyes. "Rough night?"

"If I could remember it, I'd tell you." I slurp down a large gulp of coffee, ignoring the fact it burns the majority of my tongue and pallet. "Can I have five minutes?"

Crystal fiddles with the pins in her silvery hair and levels me with a sharp gaze. "Yes, but don't forget you're running the show until eleven thirty. I have an appointment I need to attend."

b.o.l.l.o.c.ks, I completely forgot about that. "No problem. I'll just use the bathroom and take a few painkillers."

"They're in the cabinet in the staffroom. Stay out of my codeine; you don't want to be mixing that with whatever is in your system."

I sigh and make my way into the staff room, dashing into the bathroom to expel the contents of my stomach. f.u.c.king h.e.l.l this day is going to suck a.r.s.e.

Isaac I check the clock on the wall for the eighth time and tap my fingers against my desk in frustration. She's twenty minutes late. I'm a.s.suming she isn't coming.

f.u.c.k.

I don't have time to waste waiting around for a student who clearly doesn't give a s.h.i.t about her education.

I start to pack away, angrily thrusting my workbooks into my bag. I'm not sure what's upsetting me more, the fact I don't get a taste of those wonderful sandwiches she brings or the fact that she didn't b.l.o.o.d.y call the school to leave a message to tell me that she's not coming.

Well I'm not helping her any more than I already have. She's on her own.

I f.u.c.king hate time wasters.

When I leave the cla.s.sroom, I immediately move to the window that overlooks the carpark and check to see if Katherine's car is there. It's not, which means she's already left for her lunch.

Looks like I'm flying solo.

Great. Just great.

I hate it when plans are cancelled last minute without my knowledge. I could be doing so many better things, but instead I'm now forced to drive to the nearest cafe to grab something quick to eat.

Pulling up outside Crystal's, I almost curse at the sight of the queue. I see two of the baristas racing around looking like headless chickens without a clue. They're only young girls and they're clearly out of their depth.

There's no chance I'll be getting served within the next twenty minutes and I don't have that kind of time.

I'm about to climb back into my car when I notice somebody behind the till, somebody who should be in my cla.s.sroom completing her work but is, instead, looking stressed and tired, with some kind of dark stain down the front of her top and light pink ap.r.o.n. It looks like coffee. I hope she hasn't burned herself.

I'm going in there, aren't I?

Yes... yes I am. b.o.l.l.o.c.ks. Why do I care?

The door jingles as it opens, but n.o.body looks over. The noise level is ridiculous and the staff are still racing around with trays of drinks.

Tables where people are sitting are full of empty cups and plates that people are moaning about. Can't they see the girls are busy enough?

"I already told you, we're completely out of gingerbread syrup." Eloise's voice is the one I notice above all others. She sounds frustrated and exasperated.

"I can see a bottle right there on the f.u.c.king wall behind your head!" The young man responds angrily, his voice loud and booming.

"And like I just said, that's the display bottle. Its contents aren't real! Would you like a shot of chemical jelly in your coffee?"

"For f.u.c.k sake, just get me a latte and make it quick." The man orders and slams a five pound note on the counter.

Eloise doesn't lose her stride or her cool. She only nods and repeats the order to the other girl behind the counter, who gets to work making the drink.

The man steps to the side to wait for his beverage as Eloise serves the next customer, who seems a lot nicer than that a.r.s.ehole male.

I wait patiently, keeping an eye on her exchanges with each customer as she switches between taking orders and making drinks. The girls in the front dash between clearing tables and helping behind the counter.

There's no routine. This place is a mad house. I know they're doing the best they can, but this is just ridiculous. They either need a better routine or more staff.

"This is f.u.c.king disgusting!" The same angry guy from moments ago shouts and slams his takeaway cup down on the counter, causing the bottom to crumple and the contents to spill across the desk. "Make me a new one!"

"p.i.s.s off somewhere else then. I'm not making you another one. There's nothing wrong with that one!" She just reached her edge. I watch as her face reddens and her hands tremble with anger.

"I'm a paying customer. You can't talk to me like that."

"I can and I will, seeing as that's how you're talking to me. Get the h.e.l.l out."

Oh dear. This is escalating quickly.

The man turns as red as his angry opponent. I see his hand reach for the cup and my mouth slowly falls open as he swings his arm back and throws the paper cup directly at Eloise's face. The cup, still containing liquid, cracks her on the forehead and crumples further. The contents explode down her nose and cheeks, before the cup bounces away and tumbles to the ground.

I'm not entirely sure what happens next. All I know is that I have the man by the lapels of his jacket as another customer grabs his arms. Together we drag him through the door and throw him forward. He tumbles over the bonnet of my car, cursing and spitting profanities when he hits the unforgiving concrete.

"You f.u.c.king coward, throwing a hot drink in a young girl's face!" My ally shouts and nails the grounded man with a kick to the ribs. The man lets out a yelp and shudders, before scrambling to his feet gripping his side. "What the f.u.c.k is wrong with you?"

"f.u.c.k you!" Our enemy wheezes and uses my bonnet to lean on.

I control myself, wanting more than anything to smash his pudgy face into something. "Get out of here and don't come back."

"I'll wipe the floor with you if you ever do, you fat balding Muppet." My ally threatens, pointing his finger at the man as he staggers away.

I don't wait another second to thank the man for his help; I merely turn and race back into the store. Eloise isn't there and fortunately the customers left behind seem to be helping the young girls clear the tables.

I see that the other baristas are clearly shaken, but they aren't my concern right now.

"Where is she?" I ask the one behind the counter as she cleans the worktops down.

She gives me a curious look before pointing at the door on the side wall that reads 'staff only.' I nod and push it open, revealing a tidy looking room with ap.r.o.ns and coats hanging along the wall. Pictures and certificates line the rest and a comfy looking couch sits near a small TV. There's no Eloise in sight.

Eloise Tears fall freely as I bury my now cool face into my bent knees and hug my legs tightly with my arms. I can't stop the sob that rises through my shaking chest and tightening throat.

My sticky hair clings to my temples, but I don't care. I just want to go home and curl up under my bed with my blanket.

My lips sting, but I know they aren't badly burned. The pain isn't welcome. I hate pain. I'm a baby when it comes to pain, but I don't want to move. I feel safe right now.

I can't remember the last time I was that scared.

He threw coffee at me!

Another sob rips through me and more tears dampen my knees. Who cares? I'm drenched anyway. My white top is ruined and my stress level is unbearable.

I can't do this anymore.

I don't want to do this anymore.

There's a light knock at the door.

"Go away," I demand, wishing I could just disappear.

The knock is more aggressive this time.

"Are you deaf?" I cry, gripping my legs even tighter. "I said go away!"

The door opens with a creak, but I don't bother looking up. Why would anybody want to see me like this? Can't they tell that I don't want them here? I bet its Hollie. She's too nice for her own good.

"Go away," I plead, my voice quiet and sounding as defeated as I feel inside.

"Eloise."

My entire body tenses when I hear his voice. What is he doing here? I can't handle this. "Don't, I'm embarra.s.sed enough without you seeing me like this."

I feel his warm hands on my wrists and I can't find the energy to fight, so I let him pull them away from my legs. He keeps a hold of my limp wrists, standing and pulling me to my feet.

"You look sticky," he comments as my eyes open and meet his. I only see concern in his, but his presence alone is making me nervous. It's not because he shouldn't be in the bathroom alone with me, but because I'm too humiliated to describe and the need to burst into tears again is overwhelming.