Of Mayflies and Men, Chapter 2

Part 1   Part 3   Part 4    Part 5

Note from Writer X In no way does this story encourage underage drinking. Alcohol is a dangerous substance that should be used with care and is addictive. Please take this story they way it should be; as a funny tale about teenage life. Not as an encouragement for using abusive and dangerous substances. Thank You

There is a saying among our generation ‘No one cares unless you’re pretty or dying’. And it’s true. I was never pretty enough to be noticed but the second I fitted the dying category people started caring. But it didn’t matter to me, not one bit. I would be leaving this mortal shell soon enough. The day dragged by as they always did and by lunch time the whole year and possibly the rest of the school knew. I would say around 70 people came up to me in one hour alone, and I felt a bit special. Of course I was aware that these girls are like tigers, and the first opportunity they get to stab you in the back they will. They came to me as if I were their queen and they were my subjects, except I was sitting in a £3 blue plastic chair, that smelt faintly of cheese and had some suspicious stains. By minute 20 I was utterly bored and as a joke told someone I wouldn’t hold a grudge to the grave if they ordered a Dominoes pizza for me. Needless to say, that was one hell of a pizza. And yes, I did pay…… for the garlic bread. My 5th and last ever lesson came. As a final goodbye my best friends had organised for the local milkshake ‘shack’ to bring in milkshakes for everyone in the class. And despite my teacher refusal, we got one for her as well. ‘ To Electra. The next few years and moths are going to be hard, but we will always be here. You’re our sister, and you will be with us forever.’ Rose toasted. The rest of the class gestured with their shake cups, in a rather disorderly fashion. We spent the rest of the lesson dancing around to music, running around the school  like mentalists and taking photos. At one point I had to rush to the toilet, but the corridor was full to the brim with people. But it gave me an idea. ‘Em, B. Rose. Lets do a tracking shot selfie around the whole school.’ I said excitedly. ‘What? Seriously, has dying made you into some kind of genius or something. What is a tracking shot?’ Bella asked. ‘It’s what the do in movies when a character is moving whilst they are filming. Except with this we do it as if I am taking a massive selfie with the whole school. We could put a few clips up on Snapchat and Instagram as well!’ Despite the looks the others gave me, we did it. In total it took about 15-20 minutes. The stairs were the main issue. How do you make stairs interesting when there are flights and flights of them? Drying paint is more thrilling than stairs. By quite a lot. We got back in the time, and I said goodbye to everyone fairly quickly. The day had dragged on and frankly I had better things to do with my life than mope around this s**t hole. But I was going to miss it, because it was my s**t hole. After grabbing the booze we waltz out the school gates with around 20 of my other friends and I shouted: ‘On to the station girls. There is cider to be drunk and boys to be snogged!’ We caught the train just in time, and texted the lads. 3:45, Herlings. xxx We jumped off the train and nearly knocked over 5 or 6 commuters. One shouted at us and I told him to ‘sue me’. The path from the station to Herlings woods wasn’t long but it was through a muddy field. Not the kind of muddy your mum complains about on your shoes, no the kind of muddy that your dog needs a wash because of and not the kind of muddy that girly-girls complain about. It was the kind of muddy that looked like the heavens had cried on the fresh soil for a millennium and that a thousand animals had walked in. So we improvised we place ourselves along strategically marked points – Emily’s idea not mine – and threw the bags along, from one to another until each one reached Bella at the end, who had braved it all and sprinted through it. Once all the bags were safely in a pile not to her, on solid ground, we each made our crossings.  It was tough, but due to the lack of bag weight it was easier than expected. At one point I had to do a pivot – the first time I have ever done one outside of a netball match – in order to clear it. After around 20 minutes we made it. Considering the fact we were already 10 minutes late I wasn’t surprised to see the boys had already arrived. Their school backed onto the woods and it was practically a two minute walk down a – rather less muddy – road. There were about 30 or so of them there, including Rose’s……sort-of-almost-unofficial-yes-it-is-confusing-boyfriend Rob. The rest were all our guy friends or friends of our friends. When they saw us approach on came the cheeky wolf-whistles and ‘Jesus Christ, don’t rush’. We walked towards them rather gracefully and chucked the bottles at them. Including my 4 ciders and what they had the round up looked a little like this:

  • 10 bottles of cider
  • 18 beers (3 6 packs)
  • 3 bottles of WKD (2 blue and one suspicious looking orange one)
  • 1 bottle of Smirnoff
  • 1 bottle of Smirnoff Apple (my request to Rob (I love apples))
  • 200 pack of cups from Poundland
  • Some chips and other food goods to wash it all down and absorb some of the drink.

Writer X writerx9@gmail.com


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