Reasons Not To Be An Idiot

I sat in my two-hour long photography class, bored out of my mind. My teacher’s droning on about something or other, but I know it all anyway.

“… And to get a small aperture what would the ‘f’ number be? Anyone know the answer? Erm… Elizabeth?” My teacher turns to me and I shake my head from my thoughts.

“Uhh… A larger number, such as f16. ”I reply, no effort being put into my words. I know the answer, and she knows that I know the answer – that’s why it’s me she always asks. She smiles gratefully at me, realising that I was the only in this class that was ever going to give her a right answer. I place my head back onto my hand and lean my elbow on the table. I stare half-heartedly at the board as the teacher writes notes on there for the rest of the class to copy down. I needn’t bother, I know it all anyway.

See, here’s the thing… I’m Elizabeth Almond. I’m 17 and I guess you could say I’m a bit of a professional when it comes to photography. My dad’s a photographer, and he’s been teaching me the skills since I was old enough to hold a camera without wanting to bite it. From the basics to the complicated, I know practically everything. I’m of a professional standard, and there’s no doubting that. Dad’s proud of me, and it shows; I have the latest Canon cameras at home, and all the equipment that a photographer could ever need. I get called a snob, and all these other kind of insults, but I don’t let it get to me. I’m good – better than good – at what I do, and they’re just jealous. That’s what dad tells me.

The bells rings shrilly and it jolts me out of my place. I lift my head from my hand and reach down to pick up my bag. I shove all my things back into it and push my chair back from the same place it’s been in for two hours. I stand quickly and side-step round the chair, pushing it roughly back into its place before heading for the door. If I take too long, my teacher will no doubt try to collar me into some kind of exhibition for the art department or something. And, don’t get me wrong, I’d love to do it, but I just don’t have the time. When I’m not doing school work, I’m out with my dad helping him with his business. He’s not home much, so when he is we spend as much time as possible together. ‘Live like today’s your last day’, he always says to me.

I sigh as I make my way out of the room. I need to find Sam, but I don’t know where the hell she’s going to be. Sam’s my best friend. We’ve known each other for as long as I can remember, and she’s practically my only friend in this godforsaken hellhole. Sure, we have our little group of friends, but we don’t really talk to them much, we tend to stick to the two of us. I met her in year three, when she ran over to me in tears – she’d left her lunchbox at home, and so had nothing to eat. The staff wouldn’t give her anything, as they said she’d have to get her parents to pay. I knew that, from the moment I handed her one of my two marmite ‘sammichs’ (as we still call them), we’d be friends for a long time.

Someone jumps on me from behind and I scream. “Jesus fuckin’ Christ!” I turn around to be met with my best friend is fits of laughter. I narrow my eyes, hitting her arm lightly and scowling. “That’s not funny, Samantha.” She stops laughing abruptly and glares at me. No-one gets away with saying her full name, not even me most of the time. I send her my best grin and she merely rolls her eyes at me.

“How was double photography, love?” She links her skinny arm through mine and we walk towards the double doors at the other end of the corridor.

I shrug. “It was alright, I guess. Nothing that I don’t already know.”

“I’m not surprised. What don’t you know?” She mocks and I nudge the side of her body with my own.

“I don’t know why you haven’t given me any tropical juice…” I let my voice drift off towards the end, shooting her a sideways, pleading glance. I can practically hear her roll her eyes as she swings her bag round on her shoulder and unlinks her arm from mine to unzip it. I push open the door with my left arm and Sam pushes open the other door with her left arm. She giggles next to me as we do this and says quietly to me.

“We’re like the mafia or something.”

I turn to her and laugh lightly. “You’re really weird sometimes, Sam.” I see her roll her eyes as she closes her bag and swings it back round on her shoulder.

“Here’s your stupid bloody tropical juice, your majesty. All cold and fresh, just the way you like it.” I wink at her and she winks in return. We both burst into obnoxious laughter as I reach over her body and take the bottle of liquid sex from her outstretched hand. She re-links our arms as we continue walking out of school.

*

“Dad! I’m home!” I shout as I enter the front door, and then shut it behind me, throwing my bag down on the floor, placing my keys in the pot by the door and kicking off my shoes. “Dad?” I call out again, walking towards the kitchen. “Dad, are you home?” I enter the kitchen and see a small note left next to the kettle, placed to stand up against a mug. I sigh, knowing what the note will say before I’ve even read it. ‘Sorry for leaving without saying a proper goodbye…’ or ‘They called me on such short notice, I’m sorry honey…’, it’s always the same kind of thing. He’s left, hasn’t said goodbye, and just left me some stupid note to explain his absence. I reach the letter and pick it up, unfolding the flattening out the creases before reading it.

“Liza,
I’m really sorry for doing this to you again… But I’ve been called on a last minute job in Madagascar and the pay is brilliant, I couldn’t turn it down.
You know, as always, that I don’t want to leave you without saying a proper goodbye. But the flight was at 2 this afternoon, and I know you don’t get out until 3.20.
I’ve left some money for you in your bedroom; you know where it’ll be. :) Feel free to tell Sam she can stay round, I know she probably always does anyway. Oh, and tell her I say bye too.
Love you lots girly, see you in a few weeks,
Dad. X”

I glance over the letter quickly, taking in his handwriting. I sigh, feeling tears well up in my eyes. I rub at my eyes frantically. I glance into the cup and notice that he’s put my favourite hot chocolate powder in the cup, ready for me for when I returned home. I feel a smile creep across my face and I don’t remove it until I look up at the clock. It reads 1.30pm and I race up the stairs, quickly grabbing a small bag and racing back down the stairs again. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.” I mumble as I attempt to get my shoes on in a rush without falling over. I stumble slightly as I stand up straight, shoes placed firmly on my feet, and I reach over to the keys pot, grab my house keys, grab my phone fro my pocket and ring Sam’s number. “Come on, pick up. Pick up” I mumble, bouncing slightly in anticipation. It rings five times before she picks up.

“Yello’, what’s up love?”

“Sam, I need a lift to airport, quickly.” I say quickly, already grabbing a jacket and opening my front door. “Meet me at the corner, by the bus stop.”

“Oh, umm… Okay. See you in a few.” She barely replies before I mumble my thanks and hang up the phone, shoving it back in my pocket and slamming the door shut behind me, not bothering to take the time to lock it. I straight away take up a fast pace as I walk towards the bus stop on the corner where Sam is meeting me, not paying attention to my surroundings. I feel my right shoulder bump into something and I mumble a quick sorry before I carry on walking briskly towards my destination, head down and hands shoved roughly in my pockets.

I turn the corner and see Sam already waiting there in her car, passenger door opening as she sees me walking – or rather storming – towards her in her rear-view mirror. I climb in and shut the door, pulling the seatbelt across my chest and plugging it in. She re-starts the car and pulls out, turning her head to me slightly in the process.

“What’s the rush, hon?” She says and I thrust the letter, that I didn’t realise I was still holding, in her direction. “El, I’m driving, I can’t read that now.” I sigh in defeat, retreating my hand and opening it up to read to her.

“So, wait… His plane is leaving at 2, and you’re getting me to drive you to the airport?” I nod, now realising how stupid it sounds. “Aww, El! You’re such a sweetie.” She coo’s and I shoot her a disbelieving look, causing her to roll her eyes. “I mean, come on El. He told you he’s leaving and get me to drive you to the airport so you can see him off? If this wasn’t your dad it would so be out of some soppy romance movie.” I roll my eyes at her this time and she leans across to nudge me lightly. “You know I’m kidding, El. I just think it’s really nice that you want to say a proper goodbye to your dad. Since, like, you know… He practically always leaves without doing so.” She pauses, as if trying to find the right words. “It’s just nice. I don’t know how else to say it.” She half-smiles at me and I return it half-heartedly. I do know what she means; I just don’t really know why I’m doing it. Because, as she said, he practically always leaves without saying a proper goodbye to me. I guess I should be used to it by now, but there’s always this little piece of me that wants to curl up in a ball under my duvet and cry my eyes out until I feel better… But I can’t do that. I’m 17 now, I’m independent. I don’t need to cry every time my dad leaves without saying a proper goodbye, and only leaving a note to let me know where he’s gone this time. I sigh once again – I seem to be doing that a lot today. Sam sends me a knowing glance and I bring my knees up to my chest, sitting awkwardly on the seat. She reaches out a hand to me and rubs my knee sympathetically, causing me to lean towards her slightly, my head now resting sideways on the back of the seat.

“Thanks for helping me. It means a lot, it really does.” I mumble, averting my gaze as my cheeks begin to turn a vibrant red.

“Its fine, honey. You know I’m always here for you, no matter what it is you need; I’m here.” I smile gratefully in her direction and close my eyes, now resting my forehead on my knees.

“Wake me up when we’re there, I need to sleep. Clear my head, you know?” I hear her make a ‘mhmm’ noise in response and I let myself drift into a light daze of unconsciousness.

*

“Dad, wait!” I shout, running through the crowds, shooting out mumbled ‘sorrys’ to the people I barge past forcefully, trying to get to my dad as he gets nearer and nearer the front of the queue. “Dad!” I scream again, as I begin to feel my chest go tight. I see him turn and look around, trying to see who’s calling his name. I fasten my pace and reach out to him as he turns around again, facing back towards the desk. “Dad! Wait!” I shout again, almost at his side. He turns around again and sees me. His face portrays a look of shock, but he leaves his place in the queue anyway, setting his bags down on the floor next to his feet.

“Liza?” I pick up my pace and run towards him. He still looks surprised, but he opens his arms and embraces me tightly as I run into him. “Liza, what are you doing here? I thought you finished at 3.20?” I wrap my arms tightly around his waist as the tears finally leak out of my eyes, silently making their way down my face as I completely ignore his question.

“I wanted to say bye to you properly, Dad.” I mumble, and he sighs patiently, raising his hand to stroke my hair lightly.

“I didn’t realise you finished early today, Liza. I would’ve waited for you otherwise.” I squeeze him tighter and he wraps both of his arms around my shoulders. “I’m sorry, I’ll check next time.” I nod lightly against his chest, his shirt getting wet from my tears.

After a few minutes I pull away slightly and bring one my hands to my face, I cover it with the end of my sleeve and wipe at my eyes roughly. “Sorry for rushing on you like this.” I mumble, almost hoping that he won’t hear me.

“Hey, don’t be silly, you have every right too, Liza.” He lifts my face up by chin with his thumb and kisses my forehead. “I love you, girly. But I really have to go.” I nod and embrace him in one last hug. “I’ll miss you, Elizabeth.” He murmurs into my ear, and I squeeze him before replying, hitting him lightly in the arm for calling me by my full name in the process.

“I’ll miss you too, daddy. Have fun.” We both let go and he ruffles my hair before picking up his bags. “Don’t cause too much trouble.” I joke and he chuckles lightly.

“Of course not. When do I ever?” He winks at me before turning and walking towards the desk. I roll my eyes at him, even though he can’t see, and giggle lightly to myself as I watch him walk away. There’s no point me being too sad, he’ll be back in a few weeks. I know that he’ll be fine, because he always is, and, plus, I have Sam to keep me company. She always does anyway; I don’t even have to ask anymore.

I sigh happily, knowing that I’ll be fine whilst he’s gone, and turn on my heel, walking back towards the exit knowing that my dad has shown his passport and ticket. He’ll be getting onto his plane now, where he’ll sit in his first class seat, throw his head back on the seat and let his eyes fall closed; then he’ll say to the air hostess that he was ‘just resting his eyes’, like he always says to me. I smile slightly to myself and shove my hands in my pockets, hanging my head slightly to keep people from shouting at me if I accidentally knock into them.

I reach the entrance of the airport and see Sam still sitting in the driver’s seat of her car, right where she dropped me off. I climb in and smile gratefully. “Thanks for everything, Sam.” She just nods in reply, smiling widely as she sees me smiling.

“As long as you’re happy, it’s fine – you know that, El.” I grin at her and pull my seatbelt across my body, plugging it in the other side. “So, where to now?” She turns to me and asks, starting up the car and getting ready to leave. I grin at her and she grins back. We say in unison: “Pizza and ice-cream!” Man, I love my best friend.