The Dating Game

Chapter Two

Juliet

"Have you got your lunch, sport?" Dad asked.

I nodded meekly, gesticulating to the russet paper bag on the kitchen counter. I stuffed it into my actual schoolbag before munching into the last slice of buttered-toast. Dad brought me a glass of water from the tap to wash it all down and in my own time, I had devoured the toast which was my breakfast. Standing up, I slung the schoolbag around my shoulder and hugged my dad goodbye.

"I might be a bit late coming home from work but I'll be back for dinner time, I promise. If there's any changes, I'll call you. Have you got your phone?" Frown lines began to materialise on his forehead due to his eyebrows wrinkling together.

Dad has been over-protective of me since Mom died and I was only five when she died. Ever since, he's tried never to leave me home alone for so long and he's always been there. Despite the disproportionate protectiveness of a dad, I have to give him credit; he's brought me up well and I couldn't ask for more... except maybe a mom, too.

But he's always been in the midst of the crowd during ballet shows (something my mom always wanted me to do) until I could no longer do it by the time I was twelve. He's held my hand through all the hard-hitting times at school where people were taking the misinterpretation of my name way too far and he defended me like any dad would. I'll always love him for that.

"It's in my bag," I replied.

I wasn't the most confident girl about. I couldn't formulate a whole paragraph and tell it to my dad in one sitting and he knows I'm like that. I've always been the timid girl who hides away in her room and gets work done. I suppose there's always the benefit to the curse, right? Regardless, I can always see that it harms him sometimes when I reply oh-so shortly or bashfully. But I was like that to everyone so he can't take it personally.

I took the glass of water from Dad and gulped it down in prior to pulling out the dish washer and putting it in there. I leaned in close to Dad and hugged him. My head was leaning against his chest, my arms around his back whilst his were around my shoulders.

"I love you, sport. Have a good day, alright?" he said, pulling back.

I nodded. "I love you, too, Dad."

Pacing out of the house, I made my way down the path before closing the black gate behind me. Dad wasn't in work for another few hours so I thought I'd close it. As I began to walk to school, I found that the birds were singing me a song. I wasn't too sure of what the tune was, but it was tranquil and serene. I found myself bobbing my head until the school was in sight. Composing myself, I heaved a sigh before entering the school.

I felt out of place with my jeans and knitted jumper. It was only October I was wearing jumpers, despite what some of the other girls were wearing: shorts and tights, tank tops with thin cardigans or just a top. Then again, I did have to keep warm. I can't stand being cold and I'd rather be warm than cold.

Fiddling with the Coke lid strapped to the piece of string, slung perilously around my neck. I cut myself on the jagged metal edges and retracted my hand immediately. Ceasing walking, I stared down at my finger to notice the small cut. Some blood was oozing out of it already. Picking up my pace, I commenced to sped-walk to the girls' bathroom.

I leaned forwards – due to my short height at being only five foot two – and rinsed the tap, holding my finger with the cut directly under the faucet. Closing my eyes for a moment, there was still a bit of pain with it as a group of senior girls strutted into the bathroom, their legs shown off in thin tights and incredibly short shorts.

"Oh, it's the Queen," said one of the girls. I didn't actually know her name, but I could hazard a guess of what her status was at this school. She scoffed as she threw her sleek blonde hair over her shoulders, turning around to the rest of her band of "loyal" followers.