❤4EVA❤ – by Rachel Hogg

‘He likes you’, Clare mouths, as a hand reaches over the back of my coach seat and pulls my ponytail for the tenth time.

‘No, he doesn’t’, I whisper back. Though, secretly, I hope he does.

Richie Simmons. The best looking boy in Year 10. Floppy dark hair, piercing blue eyes and a battered leather jacket (‘Used to be my dad’s. Wore it to Glastonbury in ’71’). He plays the drums, and is so much more mature than any of the other boys in our year. Of course I fancy Richie Simmons. But then, so do the rest of the girls in Year 10.

‘Got any chuddy?’ Richie’s face appears between the coach seats, like Jack Nicholson in The Shining.

‘God, Richie. You’re always on the scrounge’, says Clare, in mock indignation.

‘Here, I’ve got some,’ I say, fishing a Wrigley’s Juicy Fruit from the depths of my school bag.

‘Ah, you’re an angel, Susie.’ Richie takes the stick of gum from me. Clare gives me ‘a look’, and I feel the colour rising in my cheeks. Continue reading “❤4EVA❤ – by Rachel Hogg”

Daphne By Michael Mann

People are creatures of habit. I noticed these things as I gazed out from my kitchen window, that overlooked the busy city streets. The people. Their patterns.

07:42 the businessman walks by my window. Wearing his suit on his commute to work, rushing for the morning train, that by my calculations he would usually just make.

08:13 The group of teenagers, in their school uniforms. The boys showing off, like primates throwing their own shit. All to impress the young girls who are already far more mature, yet not old enough to know it.

08:24 The mother with two children clinging to her leggings as she dragged them off to school.

Then she walks past my window. Continue reading “Daphne By Michael Mann”