Jobs

Lucy has three jobs lined up

before I leave the beach hut:

a chemistry project,

some maths,

a personal statement for a sixth-former.

If I do the work, I get paid,

wouldn’t have to scab off Marla any more,

could stop putting my hand into her purse.

Lucy gets a cut of course.

Why don’t they just do the homework themselves?

They won’t learn anything in the long run.

Lucy is confused.

You’re not one of those worthies, are you?

I think about everything I’m missing from school –

how I might have had a shot at college before

I ran away.

Now I won’t even get to do my exams –

stuff I could pass

without much preparation at all.

I’ll be poor and end up like Kelly-Anne,

relying on men who make me miserable.

Lucy passes the joint.

I shake my head and instead

help myself to some of her Haribo.

The little bears are sweet.

You’re hiding something, she says.