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Seriously, he has a puppy look that I’m ready to commit a crime for.
I stand up and ruffle his hair. “Fine. I’ll try.”
“Yay!” He hugs my legs. “I love you, Kimmy!”
Then he’s running in the direction of the school, clutching the straps of his backpack.
“Love you, too!” I shout after him. “Don’t run.”
As soon as I make sure he’s made it inside, I head back to my car. Other kids hop from their parents’ vehicles, kissing them before heading to the school.
A scene neither Kir nor I have had in our entire lives. I’m probably the only sibling driving her brother today.
At times like these, the red clouds I harbour for Mum explode with passion.
I don’t care about myself, but she has no right to make Kir believe he’s also unwanted, a mistake, a fucking broken condom.
At least Dad tries. All my early childhood memories consist of him putting me to bed or hugging me as I slept. He’s also the one who has always nursed me when I have a cold.
Never Mum.
Dad is just a busy man and rarely at home to make much of a difference. His calls are hardly enough anymore.
I arrive at Royal Elite School – or RES – in record time since it’s not far from Kir’s school.
At the car park, I stare at my reflection in the mirror and take a deep breath. I can do this.
For Kir.
I flip my brown hair that’s intertwined with green strands – or it’s probably the other way around, more green, less brown. What? I love the colour. I’m just thankful I was born with light green eyes. Another thing to add to my green collection.
Okay, that sounded a bit off, even in my head.
I come out of my car, clutching the straps of my backpack as I stride through RES’s huge entrance. Royal Elite School has ten gigantic towers and a magnificent building that goes back to medieval times.
The golden lion and shield logo is all about the majestic power of this place.
Rich, influential people send their kids to this school so they’ll have an easier initiation into society. After all, most of the UK’s politicians, parliament members, and diplomats have walked the halls of this school – Dad included.
He’s now a renowned diplomat who works closely with the European Union in Brussels, and for that reason, we barely see him. Maybe everything will change now the country is leaving the EU.
But I’m fairly sure he’ll find a way to boot himself someplace else. It’s as if he doesn’t want to be with us – or with Mum.
Usually, I would walk these halls with my best friend, Elsa, by my side, but since her accident and heart disease complications, she’s now resting at her house. In the meantime, I’m all on my own between people who either hate me or pretend I don’t exist.
The familiar jabs begin.
“She thinks she’s all pretty now?”
“Once fat, always fat, Kimberly.”
“Look at those thighs.”
“Elsa’s little bitch.”
My skin prickles the more their words seep under it. I try to tune them out, but like the fog, they’re impossible to ignore. They keep multiplying by the second, heightening and filling my head with those thoughts.
The grey ones that taste like bitterness and burn like acid.
