Summer break’s over.
I’m going back to that hell hole called boarding school.
I don’t wanna go. I don’t wanna!!!
Arghhhhhhh. Lord, please.
I’m not ready for the shared bathrooms. I’m not ready for roll calls at 5 a.m. I’m not ready for the school socks that itch like punishment. I’m not ready for the girls who moan in their sleep and the stupid-ass dining hall food and the way the matron looks at me like I’m already guilty.
Can someone please run me over?
Right now?
Because I’d rather be hit by a bus than hear the words “Lights out!” or “Where’s your tie?” ever again.
“I’m going to miss you,” my mum whispered as she pulled me into a long, tight hug that smelled like lavender and goodbye.
I didn’t say anything at first. I just stood there in the doorway of my room, suitcase already
