Page 61 of Unspoken Words
I shrugged and pushed my bowl away from me. “Sure.”
“Who are you going with?”
“Nobody.”
“Maybe you could go with Tristan?”
My eyes met hers. “Mum, really?”
She surrendered her hands to the air. “It’s just a thought.”
“Well, it’s a stupid thought.”
I hadn’t said all that much to Tristan since the day Connor hit him. I’d been angry with the jerk for blatantly baiting Connor. The things he’d said, the caress of my cheek … he’d never said or done anything like that before. It had all been for show, and I’d told him as much the next day when he’d come around to apologise. Since then, we’d exchanged a ‘hello’ at the letterbox and the odd hi and bye during school.
“Eloise, you’ve worked so hard this year and sacrificed so much. You deserve to enjoy your end of school celebrations like everyone else.”
“And I will. I’ll just do it on my own.”
Mum sighed and pushed my bowl closer to me. “Suit yourself. But stop playing with your food and eat it.”
I groaned but did as I was told.
*
The pressof pen topaper.
One simple full stop.
The end.
“Well, done, Miss Mitchell. You may leave,” Mrs Gemperle whispered, as she collected my exam and gestured to the door.
Relief surged through me like a bolt of lightning as I laid my pen down having just finished my final exam, and I headed out of the room before I screamed for release. School … life … it was all currently one big snake pit I was desperate to climb out of.
Stepping outside, the spring sun left a pleasant kiss on my face. I inhaled and breathed—really breathed—for the first time in a long time. Crisp, clean air filtered in through my nose and out through my mouth. Birds chirped, and leaves blew in the breeze. Students laughed and sung along to a radio while a distant train sounded its horn as it pulled into the local station.I’m free. I’m finally free.
It was bliss, all of it, bliss.
“How’d you go?”
I turned to see Tristan, hands in his pockets, a crumpled expression on his face.
“Good, I think. I feel good. You?”
“I don’t know. I finished. That’s the main thing.”
I smiled. “It is. You should be proud. You’ve completed high school.”
“I am proud. But I need a score of at least eighty-five percent to get into the engineering course I applied for. After my efforts in there,” he said, pointing back at the hall. “I’m not sure I’ll get it.”
“You will. Have faith.”
“Thanks. I’m trying.”
We descended the steps and began walking to the bus stop.
“So how ‘bout you?” he asked. “What percentage do you need?”
