Blue Skin: Book One

Chapter 2

2

Nine Months Earlier…

There’s laughter and loud chatter coming from downstairs. I open my heavy eyelids and lean over to the clock on the bedside cabinet. It’s 7:05 a.m.

“Freya!” Mum calls up, her voice leaking through my locked door.

I ignore her and close my eyes. Another ten minutes sleep. Twenty if I skip breakfast.

Mum calls my name again, but twice as loud.

I groan, staring up at my ceiling, wondering what the hell she wants. She knows my alarm is set for 7:15. Maybe she wants to tell me that she’s finally kicked Tony out onto the street. Or better yet, to tell me that he’s jumped off a bridge because he’s been barred from every pub in Ammanford.

“Freya! You up yet, love?”

I rub my face, letting out a drawn-out yawn. “Yeah! Just taking a shower. Be down soon.”

I rip the blanket off and sit on the edge of the bed. I look around at my bedroom in disgust. It’s a pretty decent size—easily twice as big as my old one—but somehow it’s ten times as messy. The light brown carpet is covered with scattered clothes and shoes, my white dressing table is overflowing with makeup, and my bedside cabinet has two half-empty glasses of water and one cold cup of coffee, with murky milk floating on the top, a horrid shade of yellow and blue. And even after ripping down those hideous Justin Bieber and Little Mix posters, my light pink walls still have the marks where the glue has pulled off some of the paint.

I thought my life would get easier when we left that God-awful flat. A fresh start, a neater, more organised Freya. But that was just a pipe dream—once a messy cow, always a messy cow.

I’ll tidy it on the weekend.

Probably.

After a twenty-minute shower, I dry my hair, put on my makeup, and squeeze into my denim skirt and last season’s white t-shirt—not having a pound to my name is killing my reputation. I scan my bedroom for my new black boots, but even in this mess I can see that they’re not here. Probably still by the front door.

I check my face and teeth in the mirror, grab my book bag, and head downstairs.

Mum is standing in the hallway, her thick blonde hair tied back in a ponytail, her green eyes bright with excitement when she spots me. “Good news, Freya.”

“Yeah, what’s that then?” I ask, uninterested. I bet Tony got that job promotion. Just another reason to get drunk.

“I’m pregnant,” she replies, with childlike enthusiasm.

I throw her a false smile, praying that my face matches her own, but it’s extremely doubtful.

Mum’s look of happiness dissolves. I guess my acting is worse than I thought.

Oh, well.

“Why can’t you be happy for me? You said you’d be more positive.”

With heavy legs, I walk up to her and give her a hug. “Sorry. I am happy for you. Honestly.”

“Good.” She kisses me on the cheek. “Now, make sure you say something nice to Tony before you go to college. He’s got a good feeling about this one. We both have.”

“Okay, Mum. I’ll try.” I slip past her, heading to the kitchen. In the doorway, I spot Tony, bent over with his greasy bald head buried in the open fridge.

Maybe I’ll skip breakfast. A happy Tony is even more unsettling than an angry one.

Turning away from the kitchen, I hear the rattle of the fridge door closing. “Good news, yeah?” Tony says, just as I spot my boots by the front door.

I gather up the boots, sit on the foot of the stairs, and slide them on. They still don’t fit, but who cares about a little pain when something looks as good as these. “Yeah, Tony. I’m happy for both of you.” I don’t waste a fake smile on him; the day has barely begun.

“I’ve got a good feeling about this one,” he says, his thick, hairy arm resting against the banister, his cider breath wafting over me, causing me to shuffle over a few inches. “I reckon it’ll be a boy. What do you think?”

I shrug my shoulders. “Hopefully,” I reply without any eye contact. I stand up, adjusting my skirt. “Fingers crossed.”

Mum is standing by the front door, clutching her stomach like she’s six months pregnant. “We’ll all have our fingers crossed.”

“So, how far along are you, Mum?” I ask, painfully trying to ignite a little interest.

“Four weeks,” Tony cuts in, scratching his horrid man-boob with his thick fingers. “So, plenty of time to get the house ready for him.”

I nod with eagerness, unable to think of anything else to say.

There’s a knock on the front door, breaking through the silence with precision timing. Even though Mum is standing right next to the handle, I race over to open it. Sean is standing outside, his ginger hair shorter than it was yesterday, a black shirt tucked into his jeans. In a nerdy, desperate way, he almost looks kind of cute.

“Morning, Sean,” Mum says with a giant beam. “How are you today?”

“Good thanks, Jane,” he replies, tugging on each strap of his blue backpack. “Can’t complain.”

“That’s nice,” she says. “Are you coming inside for a few minutes?”

Before he has a chance to answer, I step outside and pull him away from the door. “We’ve got to go, Mum. We’ll miss the bus.”

“But you haven’t had any breakfast.”

“I’ll eat something in college,” I start to close the door. “See you later.”

The door slams before Mum can say goodbye.

“Everything all right, Frey?” Sean asks, opening the front gate. “You left the house pretty swiftly.”

I chuckle. “Do I really need an excuse?”

Sean smiles.

Walking slowly along the pavement, I contemplate telling him about the pregnancy, but I just can’t be bothered to go into it.

“That’s a nice outfit,” he says. “Is it new?”

I chuckle again. “A nice outfit? Since when have you ever noticed what I’m wearing?”

“Hey, I may have no dress sense myself, but I do notice when you wear something new.”

I prod his side. “You’re an idiot.”

When the bus pulls up, Sean lets me on first. “Thanks,” I say as I spot the girls sitting on the back seats. They call me over, so I continue along the aisle. Katie’s blonde hair is up in a flawless bun, and she’s wearing a white top and her cream jacket, and those skinny jeans with the rips across the knees, the ones that I pointed out to her on Saturday. I can’t exactly be mad with her though; I’d never be able to afford them. I really need a b****y job. Lisa is dressed in her tight leggings and grey top, her thick brown hair pushed over to the side, resting on her huge t**s. God, I wish mine were even half her size.

“I love your new boots, Freya,” Lisa says, moving over slightly for me to sit in the middle of them.

“Thanks.” I notice Sean standing at the front of the bus, looking for a place to sit. We lock eyes for a moment, but then he finds a seat next to one of the fat kids from the art department. “They hurt like a b***h, though, but they were all out of my size.”

“Couldn’t you order them in?” Katie asks, peering down at them in awe.

“No. They were on sale. I couldn’t afford them at full price.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Katie says. “I’m broke this month. My father thinks I should get a job.” She snorts. “Like that’s going to happen.”

“Have you done your assignment yet?” I ask them, patting my bag, making sure that it’s still in there.

Katie shakes her head and purses her lips. “Not yet. Mrs Williams said I could have an extension.”

“How come?”

Katie laughs. “Stress.”

I turn to her with a shocked expression. “Stress? You?”

“Hey, failing my driving test for the second time is very traumatic.”

“b****y hell, Katie,” I say. “Fair play, you’ve got some humongous balls for a tiny blonde girl.”

“Look, you don’t get anywhere without being a little cheeky. And as soon as I pass my test, we can say goodbye to riding the bus with ginger weirdos like that.” She motions with her head to Sean as he glances at us from the front.

“Yeah, tell me about it,” I reply, suppressing my guilt—and dishing out my second fake smile of the day.

Only about fifteen hours to go.