Lucy is sitting on the beach next to another girl.
This is my mate Mindy.
The girl nods,
gawping into her phone
and grinning.
Someone else is behind them,
standing over a mountain bike,
a cigarette limp between her lips.
And that’s Jan.
Lucy points
but doesn’t turn.
She’s sort of retro.
She must mean the cigarette but I don’t know.
Lucy gives me twelve quid
for the completed homework plus
two more maths assignments.
Can you translate French? Jan asks.
She sucks on the cigarette
like someone who hasn’t been
smoking very long –
a quick pull,
hardly inhaling.
I can do most subjects.
It sounds arrogant
but all I mean is that
studying is the one thing I can do.
One thing out of a hundred failures.
My dad is being a right pain
and it’s parents’ evening next week.
Jan speaks to my burn.
I flick my hair to cover it.
I’ve tried Google Translate but it’s pointless.
I need to write a description of my family.
You can make it up.
All right.
Another sixth-former needs a personal statement
for UCAS, Lucy adds.
I can give you bullet points.
I’m about to smile gratefully but say instead,
UCAS forms will cost extra.
The last one took forever.
Lucy grins. Of course.
I mean,
time is money.
Right?