Blair O'Connor was the life of every party-popular, fearless, and always the center of attention. But behind the perfect image was an abusive boyfriend who slowly stripped away the girl she used to be.
After finally breaking free, Blair transfers...
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Had I really come to school in my bright pink curlers like I'd told Patrick I would?
Yeah. Obviously.
A girl had to look perfect, didn't she? Even if it meant walking through those school gates looking like a neon porcupine.
This morning, when I clattered down the stairs, my dad took one look at me and burst out laughing—like the eejit he is.
"You're seriously doing it?" he managed, still grinning as he handed me a plate of toast.
"'Course I am!" I shot back, like it was the most obvious thing in the world.
For a moment, I thought he might burst out again, but instead, his laughter softened, and something else flickered across his face—something quieter, something that sat deep behind his eyes.
"Jesus, you really are your mam's double," he said, shaking his head as if the sight of me transported him somewhere else. "She did that before, y'know."
He laughed, but I caught it—that ghost of sadness, the way his smile wavered just slightly at the edges. It didn't last long, though; he blinked, as if clearing it away, and handed me the butter.
"Don't let the lads slag ya too much," he added, like an afterthought.
I just grinned. "Let 'em try."
Because my mam had done it first, and if she could march out into the world in curlers, then so could I.
"Morning, Blue," Eloise said, plonking herself down on the pavement beside me, her bag thudding to the ground with her usual lack of grace. She was all energy, as always, brushing her curly hair back with her hands. "I so should've come with my curlers in!"
I shook my head, smirking. "We could've been twins, El. Next time?"
"Obviously," she said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. With a dramatic sigh, she flopped her head onto my shoulder, making herself comfortable.
The early morning chill clung to the air, but her presence was warm, familiar. It was just Eloise being Eloise.
"So," I started, my voice turning just the right shade of teasing, "where's your girlfriendddd?"
Her head shot up, and her cheeks instantly went red, just as I knew they would. "Not my girlfriend," she protested, rolling her eyes hard enough to give herself a headache. "But she's on her way."
Bullshit.
I raised an eyebrow at her, biting back a grin. If Eloise and her "not-girlfriend" weren't together, then the laws of the universe simply didn't apply. Planets would fall out of orbit. Gravity would cease to exist. Dogs would start doing maths.
