Her New Disguise is Butterflies
13
"Whooooooooooooo lives in a pineapple under the sea? SPONGEBOB SQUAREPANTS!" Oliver sung at the top of his lungs, running around the living room on Sunday morning. Joanne was eying him cautiously, making sure he didn't run into the glass coffee table and impale himself on one of the sharp edges. I, for one, couldn't care less. Everyone else deserved to be miserable, just because I am.
"Smile, Bliss, it might never happen," dad grinned, squeezing my cheeks in between his fingers. I wriggled away from his grasp and stood up, stomping off upstairs and into my bedroom. I crawled into bed and pulled the covers up to my chin.
I'd not even changed my clothes from yesterday. I was still in the same Spongebob pyjama bottoms, my white top and grey hoodie from yesterday. I had toe socks on my feet to keep them warm. My bedroom floor was littered with tissues, soaked in my salty tears.
According to Joanne, Josh had been round whilst I was sobbing and wallowing in my own self pity, as she put it, but she told him that now probably wasn't the best time. Thank god she opened the door and not dad. He'd have sent him straight up the stairs to see me all salty and snotty. As disgusting a picture that would've been.
None of my wonderful friends have been round, but Polly's been calling my phone non-stop since yesterday. She's worried, bless her. I think I'll let her worry for one call longer, then I'll answer and get her to come over. I might be grounded, but dad can't stop Polly from coming to see me. She'll chew his ears off about woman's rights and so forth. Things that have nothing to do with my current situation, but she feels relevant. Either that or she'll start a conversation about periods.
I wrapped myself up in my duvet and wiggled my toes, reaching for the remote control for my tiny portable television. I flicked it on and decided to watch the episode of Spongebob Squarepants I'd started watching downstairs, until dad decided it was best to annoy me.
My phone was buzzing away on the bedside table. I picked it up and raised one eyebrow as 'Tart' flashed across the small screen. I didn't want to talk to her. I couldn't stand her boasting about how she's got Max and I've got no one. As I rightfully remember she didn't like him, called him an idiot and probably more when his back was turned. I hope he knows he's second best to Matt. I didn't answer her call. Left her hanging.
There was a knock on the front door and I closed my eyes, pressing the mute button on the remote, listening in on the conversation going on between dad and whoever was standing on the doorstep.
"Please don't be Josh," I whispered, "please, don't be Josh."
"Periods, Mr Bradley, that's what it is!"
I felt a tiny smile creep onto my face. Only Polly could start a conversation with my dad like that. She was trying to find a way to get upstairs and see me in all my pyjama wearing, smelly glory.
"Polly, just go upstairs, I don't need to know about a woman's bodily functions!" My dad said, extremely loudly.
Her footsteps began hitting the stairs and before I knew it her head was poking into my bedroom. "Hi," she smiled brightly, in an attempt to cheer me up. She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her and walked over to my bed, climbing in beside me. "What are you watching?"
"Spongebob. My future husband."
She giggled. "Now, we all know that's not possible. You're too big to live in a pineapple, and would you really want to live near Patrick?"
"Yes. I would. He'd be a better friend that Tart Face any day."
"Blissy, Adolf Hitler would be a better friend than Sacha at times."
I smiled softly. "True. So what are you here for? Going to try and reassure me by telling me, Josh doesn't mind that I puked on him, that I ran away and that I'm pathetic?"
"Hmm, sort of. He did tell me he wasn't bothered. He also told me that he wants to get to know you, but you won't let him. Bliss, your putting up a wall around yourself, and no one can get in."
I shrugged. "He'll find someone else in a flash."
"Bliss, he's already got Jenny Darby creeping around, you didn't notice that on Friday night, you were too busy with your head down the toilet, but seriously, she was all over him like bees round flowers the second they came off stage."
"I'm so glad you didn't use the phrase 'flies round shit' then, Polly."
"Bliss, seriously. Come on, talk to me. We need a plan of action or Jenny's going to get her nasty false claws into him and never let go."
"He'll want her anyway, she doesn't wear toothpaste, or paper bags, fake illness to get him on his own in the medical room. She hasn't got Mrs Thorpe on her back constantly, and she doesn't have an embarrassing dad. She won't puke on his jeans and make a fool out of herself after drinking far too much booze. She's older and has more experience. Let's face it, Polly, I never stood a chance."
"No, no, and no again, don't say that! You do have a chance. He came looking for you when they came off stage, and when Libby said you'd run off to the toilets, he came to find you. I mean, he had to prise Jenny off first, but doesn't that tell you something?"
"That he feels sorry for me?"
Polly slapped her hand to her forehead. "No, that he likes you."
I shrugged. "I don't care anymore. I'm giving up on love and Joshua Franceschi."
Truth be told, I'll never get the happy ending you read about in books, and see in films. It doesn't happen for me at all, ever. So why should this be any different?
The Princess had competition from a Lord's daughter. She was equally as beautiful, everything about her was perfect. She had the Prince under her spell from the second their eyes met. He swore he'd love the Princess until his last dying breath, but all that seemed to be forgotten when she stepped into the room.
"Smile, Bliss, it might never happen," dad grinned, squeezing my cheeks in between his fingers. I wriggled away from his grasp and stood up, stomping off upstairs and into my bedroom. I crawled into bed and pulled the covers up to my chin.
I'd not even changed my clothes from yesterday. I was still in the same Spongebob pyjama bottoms, my white top and grey hoodie from yesterday. I had toe socks on my feet to keep them warm. My bedroom floor was littered with tissues, soaked in my salty tears.
According to Joanne, Josh had been round whilst I was sobbing and wallowing in my own self pity, as she put it, but she told him that now probably wasn't the best time. Thank god she opened the door and not dad. He'd have sent him straight up the stairs to see me all salty and snotty. As disgusting a picture that would've been.
None of my wonderful friends have been round, but Polly's been calling my phone non-stop since yesterday. She's worried, bless her. I think I'll let her worry for one call longer, then I'll answer and get her to come over. I might be grounded, but dad can't stop Polly from coming to see me. She'll chew his ears off about woman's rights and so forth. Things that have nothing to do with my current situation, but she feels relevant. Either that or she'll start a conversation about periods.
I wrapped myself up in my duvet and wiggled my toes, reaching for the remote control for my tiny portable television. I flicked it on and decided to watch the episode of Spongebob Squarepants I'd started watching downstairs, until dad decided it was best to annoy me.
My phone was buzzing away on the bedside table. I picked it up and raised one eyebrow as 'Tart' flashed across the small screen. I didn't want to talk to her. I couldn't stand her boasting about how she's got Max and I've got no one. As I rightfully remember she didn't like him, called him an idiot and probably more when his back was turned. I hope he knows he's second best to Matt. I didn't answer her call. Left her hanging.
There was a knock on the front door and I closed my eyes, pressing the mute button on the remote, listening in on the conversation going on between dad and whoever was standing on the doorstep.
"Please don't be Josh," I whispered, "please, don't be Josh."
"Periods, Mr Bradley, that's what it is!"
I felt a tiny smile creep onto my face. Only Polly could start a conversation with my dad like that. She was trying to find a way to get upstairs and see me in all my pyjama wearing, smelly glory.
"Polly, just go upstairs, I don't need to know about a woman's bodily functions!" My dad said, extremely loudly.
Her footsteps began hitting the stairs and before I knew it her head was poking into my bedroom. "Hi," she smiled brightly, in an attempt to cheer me up. She stepped into the room and closed the door behind her and walked over to my bed, climbing in beside me. "What are you watching?"
"Spongebob. My future husband."
She giggled. "Now, we all know that's not possible. You're too big to live in a pineapple, and would you really want to live near Patrick?"
"Yes. I would. He'd be a better friend that Tart Face any day."
"Blissy, Adolf Hitler would be a better friend than Sacha at times."
I smiled softly. "True. So what are you here for? Going to try and reassure me by telling me, Josh doesn't mind that I puked on him, that I ran away and that I'm pathetic?"
"Hmm, sort of. He did tell me he wasn't bothered. He also told me that he wants to get to know you, but you won't let him. Bliss, your putting up a wall around yourself, and no one can get in."
I shrugged. "He'll find someone else in a flash."
"Bliss, he's already got Jenny Darby creeping around, you didn't notice that on Friday night, you were too busy with your head down the toilet, but seriously, she was all over him like bees round flowers the second they came off stage."
"I'm so glad you didn't use the phrase 'flies round shit' then, Polly."
"Bliss, seriously. Come on, talk to me. We need a plan of action or Jenny's going to get her nasty false claws into him and never let go."
"He'll want her anyway, she doesn't wear toothpaste, or paper bags, fake illness to get him on his own in the medical room. She hasn't got Mrs Thorpe on her back constantly, and she doesn't have an embarrassing dad. She won't puke on his jeans and make a fool out of herself after drinking far too much booze. She's older and has more experience. Let's face it, Polly, I never stood a chance."
"No, no, and no again, don't say that! You do have a chance. He came looking for you when they came off stage, and when Libby said you'd run off to the toilets, he came to find you. I mean, he had to prise Jenny off first, but doesn't that tell you something?"
"That he feels sorry for me?"
Polly slapped her hand to her forehead. "No, that he likes you."
I shrugged. "I don't care anymore. I'm giving up on love and Joshua Franceschi."
Truth be told, I'll never get the happy ending you read about in books, and see in films. It doesn't happen for me at all, ever. So why should this be any different?
The Princess had competition from a Lord's daughter. She was equally as beautiful, everything about her was perfect. She had the Prince under her spell from the second their eyes met. He swore he'd love the Princess until his last dying breath, but all that seemed to be forgotten when she stepped into the room.