Memories

She slung her bag over her shoulder as the bell rang and made a bee line for the front desk at reception. The staff knew her well; she had weekly doctors appointments which spanned for hours, the receptionists just handed her the sign-out book and a red biro. She smiled sweetly in their direction and let the doors close behind her. The freedom smelt fresh. She had twenty paces to turn back, twenty paces before she was off school property. With each came a fresh moral debate; there was so much more here to consider than just truancy. She hovered over the eighteenth, faltered at the nine teeth, then took the twentieth bravely, embracing the rush that accompanied such behaviour.
At the train station she bolted the toilet door behind her, dropped her full length school skirt and unbuttoned her blouse. She stepped into jeans, pulled on a top too low cut for her years and reapplied her makeup in the mirror. She stuffed her uniform deep into her school bag and made her way across the station. Rule breaking wasn't in her nature; she clutched her child ticket and swung her legs on a bench on platform two. She met him outside TK Maxx; he looked different from his pictures. He took her hand and led her to a part of town she'd not been to before. It was a long walk; they made conversation. Back at his he took her jacket. She'd never been in a council house before, but he didn't show her around downstairs. She caught a glimpse of the living room wallpaper, tangerine and lime green floral print, a room frozen in time. He led her upstairs. His room disturbed her, it was full of gadgets, playstations, television screens and computers, and shelves of games and dvds. He suggested music, signalling to the speaker system, and let her choose from his extensive cd collection. She recognised nothing.
He kissed her. She kissed him back, naively. Somehow they were topless and in his bed. He questioned the ribbons tied around her wrists. 'Those don't come off', she said. He was ill-looking, and thinner than she had imagined him to be. Wisps of dark hair grew from his chest and he hadn't shaved his face in a fortnight. She gritted her teeth, and climbed off, making excuses: she really ought to be getting back to school. He walked her to the bus stop, kissed her goodbye, turned back. She turned on her phone, and tapped a message out to her best friend. 'I am definitely, definitely a lesbian.'