Sadly, our one week break is over and it\'s time to get back to the hustle and bustle of school. Adelaide is buzzing with the news of our test timetable being released. No one ever tells you this, but it\'s really hard being a senior in high school: juggling school, work, SAT prep, your social life and college applications is an extreme sport.

Speaking of college applications, I\'m still undecided as to what I want to study-okay, not really undecided, more like I want to eventually go to law school but I need to have a Bachelor\'s degree first. I\'ve still not figured out my niche which is a really bad thing considering I\'m months away from graduation.

Making a mental note to speak to the guidance counsellor, I make my way to my locker and grab my materials for first period.

\'\'Can you believe this school, Mel,\'\' Paris says, stomping angrily towards me. I slam my locker shut and groan in annoyance. \'\'You saw the sign board too?\'\'

\'\'Fuck, yea. How can our tests be next week? It makes no flipping sense! First, they make us wear ugly ass uniforms and now this. Outrageous!\'\'

Our uniforms consist of a white shirt with the school logo embedded on the right side of the shirt and a plaid, pleated, grey skirt for the girls and the boys\' attire is similar, except they have to wear grey slacks.

It\'s ugly to say the least and I miss wearing whatever the hell I want back at Linkdale.

\'\'I feel your pain, Paris. I barely understand whatever the fuck Mr Clark is saying in Maths class and I\'m running on like four hours of sleep due to homework and college applications.\'\'

\'\'Uggh, don\'t remind me of college applications,\'\' Paris whines as I hand her a pen. \'\'I still don\'t know if I want to go to college.\'\'

\'\'You don\'t?\'\'

She shakes her head and I\'m surprised because this is news to me. Back when we were in 10th grade, she talked about how much she wanted to be a surgeon just like her dad. What changed?

\'\'Don\'t tell my parents I said that though or they\'d ship me to a nunnery or some Catholic private school to \'figure out my life\',\'\' she air quotes with a hint of sarcasm. \'\'My dad wants me to go into the medical field and I\'m like taking AP classes and shit, but it\'s like, I still don\'t know if university is the IT factor for me, you know.\'\'

I nod in understanding and hug her. She reciprocates this and we pull apart. \'\'It\'s overwhelming, I know, but don\'t sweat it too much. Tell you what? Let\'s make an appointment to see the guidance counsellor. Maybe she\'d give us some clarity.\'\'

\'\'Makes sense to me.\'\'

The first bell rings and students are already rushing out of the hallway, scrambling to get to their various classes. Paris and I make our way into the room on the left, next to the janitor\'s closet and settle into our favourite seating positions at the back. There are only about seven students in class and the rest start trooping in.

\'\'If I don\'t die of exhaustion or caffeine combustion this week, I\'d be a monkey\'s uncle,\'\' Paris remarks as she gets her writing materials from her handbag. Paris brings this Louis Viton handbag to school instead of a regular backpack because it was a gift from her grandma who passed away last year much to her dismay. I make a mental note to visit Grandma Maggie at the nursing home as I wait for Mr Clark to arrive.

\'\'Don\'t be dramatic. It\'s just test week and…\'\' Paris is no longer paying attention to me but is instead focusing on the door. I turn my attention to her focal point and I can see why she stopped listening to me. He gives her a grin and a wink as he makes his way to the front of the class and she blushes like a lovesick puppy.

\'\'Am I missing something here?\'\' I tease. She snaps out of her daydream and responds. \'\'Nope, definitely not.\'\'

\'\'So we\'re going to pretend like Ryan did not wink at you and you did not undress him with your eyes?\'\'

\'\'We made out that time at the club.\'\'

That explains it.

\'\'And, fuck it was so good. I mean, I thought I had kissed guys but he puts all my exes to shame really. He\'s such a good kisser and knows how to use his tongue…\'\'

\'\'TMI, Paris.\'\'

\'\'I can\'t help it, Mel. I like him a lot and before you say it was a drunken, sloppy kiss, you are my witness, I wasn\'t drunk: tipsy, most definitely, but not so out of it to not realize that that was the best kiss I ever had.\'\' She holds my hand and squeezes it. \'\'Help me, I think I\'ve been stung by the love bug.\'\'

I understand where she\'s coming from. I was a lovesick puppy too, and I still am, ever since I started dating Bob. I guess when you just know, you know.

\'\'I could be your wingman and see if he likes you back, although judging by that wink and the fact that he\'s staring at you again, I think the feeling is absolutely mutual.\'\' Ryan keeps stealing quick glances at her and I\'ve caught him once or twice…or five times.

\'\'You\'d do that for me?\'\'

\'\'You\'re my main bitch for life. I\'d probably steal Saturn for you if I could.\'\' I\'d gladly do that because I know that she\'ll always have my back. We\'ve been through a lot together since 8th grade and I\'d never trade her for another bestie.

\'\'I love you, Mel.\'\'

\'\'Ditto.\'\'

..............

I rush home right after school and send a quick message to Bob to inform him that I won\'t be reporting to work all week because of test week. One of the perks of dating your boss: you get to slack off for a while. I\'m kidding, it\'s not actually slacking off and I\'d never take advantage of the fact that Bob and I are dating. I take my job very seriously because I need the money and you have to work for money.

No one hands out freebies to anyone in this country.

The apartment is empty and I\'m glad, not that I was expecting anyone anyways: mum\'s at work and I have to pick up Sophie from school in an hour. Without removing my uniform, I settle on the dining area and bring out my Maths textbook. This week is homework-free week and I\'m glad because it gives me time to prepare.

\'\'If you want to get a head start, you might as well start now, Mel.\'\'

That\'s the motivation I need right now.

Scratch that, the right motivation is: if I don\'t pass, my scholarship might get revoked. The school insists that I remain in the top five of the class and maintain at least eighty percent. So far, I think I\'m doing great. Not to brag or anything, I\'m currently second in my class rank and it\'s been that way since 9th grade. Lee, a classmate of mine from Asian descent always beats me to first position. It\'s fucking crazy how that boy is super smart and he may probably end up being our Valedictorian next year when we finally graduate.

I can\'t wait to graduate and finally be an adult who\'s ready to explore the world around her. Also, I can\'t wait to get to the point where I don\'t have to hide my relationship with Bob. Bridgewood is a small town, and I sure as hell know that they\'d gossip, but I really could care less. I\'ve stopped giving a fuck about what anyone thinks of me a long time ago and I\'m going to chase my happiness.

Bob is my happiness and I really see us being together for a long time. I just have to get around telling mum without being thrown out of the house.

My life is so complicated.

\'\'Let\'s see here, Permutations and Combinations.\'\' I open the big ass textbook and zone my mind in on the numbers even though there\'s a ninety nine point nine percent chance I may end up consulting the Indian Maths gurus on Youtube.

My phone rings unceremoniously, disturbing my train of thought

\'\'Weird, it\'s an unknown number.\'\' I pick it up cautiously. \'\'Hello?\'\'

\'\'Hello, is this Melody Jones?"\' a ferminine voice says from the other end.

\'\'This is she.\'\'

\'\'My name is Denise Porter and I\'m calling from Linkdale High. You were registered as the number to call in case of an emergency. Sophie had a mini accident and we\'d like you to come and pick her up.\'\'

Oh no!

\'\'Is she okay? What\'s going on?\'\' I rapidly fire at her. My brain is already in panic mode as I grab my keys from the counter.

\'\'I thinks it\'s best you come here, Miss Jones. We\'d be expecting you.\'\' With that, the line clicks dead and I say a silent prayer.

Please be okay, Sophie.