Chapter 4
Chapter Four
I woke up at eight AM to the awful sound of my mother shrieking my name when she walked in to deliver a fresh pile of washing.
"Jain! Get up, right now!"
I tried to open my eyes. The makeup from last night held them together. Mum had to be joking.
Wasn't it a Saturday?
"Mum, it's Saturday. " I groaned, burying my head into the pillow.
"Yes, and you've got your private session in one hour with Madame Frost."
Oh, fuck.
"Mum, cancel it. Please. I feel sick."
"Cancel it? No! Look how well you are doing with your French now—"
" Please ! I'm dying. I can't even see."
The duvet is pulled away from me.
"Then I suggest you get up and wash that crap off your face. What the hell were you drinking?" Mum stormed out, not waiting for an answer .
I sat up, leaving my head behind on the pillow as I tried not to vomit. Somehow, I made it to the bathroom, spending the best part of an hour in the shower. When I finally surfaced, I had to dash back into the toilet to be sick.
"I'm never drinking again," I muttered as my mum shot me a look.
Madame Frost was seated at the gleaming mahogany table, smiling at me kindly.
"En francais, s'il vous pla?t."
How did you say fuck off I'm dying in French?
Over an hour later, I finally made it back to my bed. I fully intended to sleep for the rest of the weekend.
"So, how is English coming along?"
I groaned inwardly before peering at my mother through tired eyes.
"I think I may be better at French," I muttered, as the familiar anxiety filled my stomach when I thought about it.
I wasn't engaging with the damn subject, no matter how much I tried. Mrs Fern had reassured me that once I understood the question, I would understand the answer. Then she would proceed to help me understand the question.
Now she was gone.
"Maybe we need to get you extra English tuition. I'll find out how much it is. I'm not sure I can afford it as well as French," Mum mumbled anxiously, clearly trying to do the math in her head. I felt terrible then, so I sat up.
"I could get a job—"
"Darling, you could , but this is your final year. I want you to focus on your studies. Maybe less partying and more studying would be a good idea?"
I nodded glumly, knowing she was probably right .
"You didn't...do anything foolish last night, did you?" Mum stared at the floor, her face paling when I hesitated.
I hadn't done anything stupid, no.
I'd managed to disentangle Sarah and Kate from the boys, and we had danced most of the night away. But, as much as Harley wanted a repeat of our one-time fuck session, it wasn't going to happen again.
One, it had hurt like fuck. Two, it wasn't anything explosive. So I didn't see what the big deal was. Harley had puffed away on top of me and lasted about three seconds before letting out a rather girlish cry and collapsed on top of me out of breath.
No thanks, I'd rather order pizza and watch Netflix.
"No, Mum, nothing daft."
"Good. You don't want to end up like me, working in a shop all day for a pittance. I always wanted to study psychology…."
My mind drifted away as Mum told me the same story she told me every other month.
My phone pinged, and she sighed.
"Why don't you go to the library? I used to spend so much time there before I met your father."
"Mum, I'm going to sleep. I'm eighteen and hungover. I've done my French lesson, and now I need to sleep, or I'm worried I might die."
Mum rolled her eyes before nodding, pursing her lips. "I'll ask your school about English tutors. Sometimes they have certain students that will do it at a reduced rate."
"God, Mum, it will be Zita Winfred. She's a bloody know-it-all and a nightmare. I don't want to." I pouted as she ignored me, muttering to herself as she walked away.
I knew I would end up with Zita frigging Winfred. She was the most stuck-up, arrogant girl in the whole school. Yet, she aced every exam, in every subject. She even scored the highest in our county for English, making her the go-to girl for any potential study buddy.
I drifted off to sleep, my mind filled with thoughts of exams and presentations, Mr Silver glaring at me with disappointment before dropping a big fat red F on my papers.
I woke up with a start, sighing with relief when I realised it was dark. I grabbed my phone and saw it was eleven PM.
Had I slept all day? I was starving, too, so I trudged downstairs, being as quiet as I could. My mum was asleep, as she needed to start work at six AM.
On a Sunday.
I realised that she was right. I wanted to push myself as far as possible to give myself as many options as I could, and if that meant asking for a study buddy, then so be it. I needed the help.
I made some toast before sitting at the table to eat it. I had decided to agree to a buddy. I knew it would be Zita, but I would have to put up with her for the foreseeable.
Ugh.