"I think you've made me infertile."

Seb is sat opposite me at the table with an icepack sat on his crowned jewels, narrowing his eyes at me in an accusatory fashion. I shoot him an apologetic half grin, but I don't think it'll offer much condolence. Really, he should be thanking me – Seb, Bardo's resident Casanova, could do without the ability to get his long string of amorous exchanges pregnant.

Now, don't assume that makes Sebastian Walker a cocky, arrogant playboy. Well, he is, but he's nice with it. His personality is exceptional - he's kind and genuine and honest - and frankly, I think that's why so many girls fall in love with him, completely head over heels. No doubt his looks help; tall, dark and handsome with a panty dropping smile to match. I'm immune to all of these qualities of course. Seb is practically my brother, on top of the other four siblings I have.

"I've told you before, just don't get involved." Alena says, pushing her tuna salad lazily around her plate, not bothering to hide the grimace that plagues her expression.

Seb scoffs, shooting me another narrowed eyed glare. "I had to – I really thought she was going to kill him this time Lena."

I grin through my mouthful of pizza. "I was." I splutter out, ignoring the distasteful look from Alena. Of course, as a renowned germaphobe, I expect nothing less in response to my impoliteness. I swallow and mumble a quick apology, earning a grin in return. "He deserved it though." I try to assure her but her expression in response is dubious. That excuse she has heard plenty of times before and each time, like the last, she assumes I'm being dramatic.

Shaking her head, Alena returns to engaging in conversation with Collins who sits opposite her. Once more, she's fluttering her lashes, twirling her ebony hair around her fingers and giggling at every other thing he says. Seb and I throw one another a knowing glance and extract ourselves from the conversation.

Neither of us can understand how Owen can be so blind to Alena's insatiable flirting. Maybe it would help if she actually openly admitted these feelings she's harboured for a year, but our wallflower seizes up every time its suggested, so it'll be down to Collins to make the first move. He will, eventually. He clearly likes Alena; seen in the way he grins when she giggles, or flushes red when she smiles at him, and even how he taught himself simple phrases in Filipino to greet her parents when we all end up around hers for dinner, simply to impress her. Not to mention she is ridiculously gorgeous, and humble with it too.

All that said, both Seb and I agree that their relationship must start organically, and me and my big mouth getting involved will probably do little to help their blossoming love. But hell, if they'd just get on with it already!

Owen Collins hasn't attended St Bardo's for long. He transferred last year to join our sixth form and since then, Lena has been besotted. I'd be lying if I said I didn't understand why. He's attractive, in that boy-next-door sort of way. A mop of messy blonde hair, face scattered with freckles and a casual, approachable aura that hangs around him. He plays cricket, soon to be professionally I'd bet, and honestly, the amount of rainy days that Lena has dragged me to the bleachers to watch him play, I cannot count. It's a mystery as to how he remains so blissfully ignorant.

"Oh!" Alena exclaims, pointing what I'm sure is an accusatory finger in my direction. With a pizza slice hanging from my mouth, I freeze. "Party, Halloween weekend; we need to outfit shop."

I roll my eyes and tear the pizza from my mouth with force. "It's not even October yet, we've got time." She gasps, slapping a melodramatic hand to her chest, her eyes wide with shock.

"Not if we want a good costume!" She cries. I roll my eyes and take another bite. We love Halloween, my friends and I. It's certainly our favourite annual party and never once have we missed it, but planning seems to get earlier each year.

"It'll have to be next week. I'm booked up with detentions." Accepting of my conditions, she nods and begins rattling on about the group outfits that she, myself and our other girlfriend Nat could wear. As it was devils last year, it's out of the question to do a repeat, obviously, so I'm sure I hear the suggestions of nurses, cheerleaders, police officers, which only forces me to interject. "You know Halloween is supposed to be scary. Why don't we dress like the people from the purge!" I suggest with shrill excitement.

Seb scoffs and looks me up and down. "If you think I'm letting you go to a party with alcohol wielding a weapon, you're hugely mistaken."

"What are you, my guardian?" I drawl sarcastically.

He grins at me, theatrically drawing a halo above his head with his fingers, earning a chuckle from me. "Didn't you know, I'm going as an angel this year." I raise a brow at him but smile all the same. "Now, your angel says, behave." Confused, I turn to follow the direction of his gaze, immediately wishing I hadn't. With Hendrix sauntering up towards us, I can't help but wonder if this boy actually has a death wish. He was on the receiving end of my fury this morning, wasn't he? "Hey Eli." Seb greets.

Elijah nods curtly at him and Collins, firing a suggestive smile at Lena. Of course, she blushes – the hopeless woman – and coughs awkwardly when she becomes victim to my stare. "What do you want Hendrix?" I ask.

I tilt my head to look up at him, jaw clenched so much that it aches. "I've come to apologise." He says lowly, in a way that almost sounds sincere. I frown. This isn't usually how our interactions go, so I look around avidly, searching for some sort of trap. Like a flying flour bomb – believe me, it's happened. There isn't anything though, apart from a couple of his lackies watching us to evaluate the current calamity of the situation, ready to swoop in if things go sour.

"Apology not accepted." I snap, taking a rather vicious bite from my pizza slice. "Now piss off." He doesn't though, so I groan in agony. "Look Hendrix, we were enjoying quite the pleasant lunchtime before you showed your face and made us all want to barf up, so can you make it quick?" I seethe. His jaw twitches at my hostile tone, itching to offer a witty retort of some sort, but then something shifts. His face relaxes and his stupid green eyes begin to twinkle with amusement. "What?" I spit out through gritted teeth.

"Well, I came asking for my jumper back." He says in a whisper, as if to preserve the last remaining shreds of my dignity. I narrow my eyes at him, noticing that he's once again wearing his smoothie stained shirt.

"No."

"Charlie!" Alena gasps. "Don't be so rude." I roll my lips into a fine line, working hard to suppress the rage that's already boiling, bubbling viciously inside me.

"It's not his jumper! He wanted it, I needed it. You don't understand," I grit. "I can't take it off."

Seb looks at me confused, but Lena seems to catch my drift, her mouth falling open in realisation. Hendrix chortles and aids in helping both Collins and Seb in understanding my current predicament. "It's alright Osborne. You've got decent tits, shouldn't be embarrassed to show them off."

With the thinnest, most taut smile on my face, I stand. I take a piece of Seb's pizza, ignoring his calls of resistance, and slap it across Hendrix's face. "My tits are fantastic, you prick." With a tomato puree makeover, he scowls at me, reaching forward to take food from my own plate, but I catch his wrist. "Lets not."

"You just bitch slapped me with a pizza!" He protests.

Much to my surprise, it's Alena that comes to my defence. "Completely justified. Where are your manners – talking about a woman's boobs? If you had a little respect Elijah, maybe fewer people would feel compelled to wrap a peperoni pizza around your head." Just as my eyebrows raise, so do Elijah's. I turn back to him, self-righteous grin on my face, and emphatically release his hand.

"Yeah Hendrix." I drawl in a mocking melody, deciding a moment after to stick my tongue out at him like a five year old.

"And you!" I stop short, spinning back to face Alena with a startled expression. "You've just been threatened with expulsion, and you can't hold your temper enough to let this one go? Eli is a lot of things, but there is no way he'd force you to get naked in front of a hall full of people. Think logically." She proclaims.

I splutter for a moment, not sure what to say. What is this double-crossing behaviour? Treason, of the highest order! "But –"

She shakes her head and raises a hand to stop me. "No Chaps, you're both as bad as each other. Grow up. And stop wasting perfectly delicious pizza!" She screeches the last part, her voice breaking as it raises a few octaves. I quick realise what her problem is – her diet. She's just upset that while she's eating salad, she has to watch me slap pizza on to someone undeserving. She huffs and returns to her salad, flushed red. Perhaps I can forgive this public betrayal.

"Yeah Chaps." Elijah mocks.

"Don't call me that." I snap at him. "Now piss off." I add, slumping back into my seat before taking a mouthful of my pizza weapon. Hell if I was going to waste it.

~

I've endured the schools free guidance counselling for the past four years. Originally, it was an hour here and there for 'cool down time', but eventually, my session became far more regimented in a hope to tackle my rather volatile emotions and minimal anger issues.

Perhaps they'd be better well received if I thought Miss Hardy had a clue what she was doing. Imagine trying to talk through the anger issues of a girl with the stimulus in the room all the while. Hendrix, if that's not clear enough, because she decided that we both had obstacles we needed to overcome.

"I've heard what happened this morning." She says in that awfully condescending voice as I sink further into the chair, arms folded with a frown on my face. "I thought we'd discussed that you were going to start trying to manage your anger?"

"You know," I begin, my tone edged with venom. "I'm getting pretty sick of the fact that's it's always, 'Charlotte, manage your anger', and not 'Hendrix, how about you manage not to piss her off?'."

"You can't expect your environment to always cater to you." She tells me.

"Yeah, yeah, so you've said. Control and discipline and all that." She raises a brow and my brush off. "But when you wave a red flag in front of a bull, it's never the bull that ends up in the shitter, it's the dickwad that aggravated it." I cast a narrowed glance to Hendrix who is sat with his head tilted back, eyes closed.

"Interesting analogy. Perhaps Elijah can help us identify why he does like the aggravate you." She says, turning to him expectantly. He peeks open an eye and waits. "Elijah. Charlotte believes you intend to aggravate her. Can we discuss?"

"Well, that's because I do." He admits quite easily. I scoff in response. "It's called retaliation. It's been happening for years. Charlotte just forgets that she's just as much to blame."

"How am I to blame?" I snap. "You always start -"

"Don't act like you're an innocent bystander." He interjects.

"No interrupting," Miss Hardy tries to remind, but the argument is already ruling the room.

"I might not be innocent Hendrix, but you always take it a step too far!"

"Because I want to win." He groans, shrugging his shoulders as if it's obviously.

"You want to win? What are you, a nine year old?" I snap back.

"Least I'm not an aspiring arsonist, you crazy bitch." He seethes.

"Enough!" Miss Hardy squeals, her timid voice breaking at her forced volume. "We do not insult, nor do we swear, in the counselling room."

I stand with a huff, hoisting my bag on to my shoulder. "We don't do much of anything in this room." Hendrix raises a brow at me but I ignore him, too exhausted to even engage. "I'm going."

"Please sit down Charlotte." She pleads with me.

"For what? I'd rather not subject myself to constant berating. It doesn't bode well for my hair trigger emotions." I deadpan, spinning on my heels before leaving the room. Neither Miss Hardy or Hendrix follow, not that I'd expect either to. This is usually how are sessions go - me storming out in a method of self preservation while the pair of them stay at chat.

I'm sure he's bribing her. It'd explain why she thinks the sun shines out of his arse.

~

Sitting in childcare and development class this afternoon leaves me feeling completely lost. I'd like the blame it on missing this morning's lesson to shower in the girls gym rooms, but I reckon my rather distracted attention is too blame too. I'm unbelievably miserable following counselling, as I am every Monday afternoon. It's fair to say I have a lot of catching up to do.

Frankly, it's never been a lesson I can focus in, considering, for a reason that still to this day I haven't managed to understand, Elijah sits two rows behind me. Me, dreaming to be a child psychologist, it makes sense to endeavour in childhood development. Elijah, whose biggest dream is to be a huge pain in my arse, has no reason to care about the cognitive development of infants.

I'm overcome with relief when the bell chimes, freeing me from the captivity of this class, only to quick be downtrodden when I realise that I'm only being transferred to a difference cell. It's detention.

"Ms Osborne. Mr Hendrix – a word please." Begrudgingly, the pair of us sulk to the teachers desk as the rest of the class funnel out. We stand beside each other, looking down on to the middle aged, greying teacher who gleams up at us. In either hand, she holds out a small, silver USB, one for each of us. "Congratulations. You're having a baby."