Chiara Daveys. Chiara is 17 years old living alone in England, supported by her group of friends after the passing of her mother.
What she's unaware of is the 6 overprotective older brothers she has searching for her after she was taken when she wa...
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Since when was year 9 maths homework so fucking difficult?
It could partially be because I haven't had to do school-type maths anymore since finishing year 11.
I'm so bloody glad I don't have to do this everyday, 5 days a week anymore.
I look up and meet the eyes of my best friend Josh's cousin who had made his way to my house, assuming that's where his older cousin is.
Josh wasn't here, surprisingly, and the homework apparently couldn't wait any longer to be completed.
And I'm the only one here.
That means I apparently had to help.
So, I allowed the 13 year old who'd walked the couple street's distance with his homework filled backpack into my home.
And now I'm also struggling.
Austin stares at me unimpressed whilst I bite my lip in concentration.
The question had something to do with the area of a trapezium and the area of some other ... shape...with parallel lines and too many angles labeled with letters.
"I thought you passed your maths GCSE?" Austin groans before biting into some toast I'd given him.
"I barely scraped the grade 4 that I got. And, in my defense, I haven't done maths like this since my GCSEs, which were over a year ago," I mutter.
He just sighs and blows out a breath, looking around my living room.
"Well, Squid," I get up from where I'd been sat on the floor, my legs clicking and aching in protest, "I have a job to get to so I suggest you go back to your house and wait for your cousin or his maths genius boyfriend to get there."
He nods and packs up his stuff.
I managed to help him with 3 questions out of 5, so I'd say the time wasn't totally wasted.
Stupid fucking maths homework.
I definitely haven't missed that.
He leaves after politely declining my offer of a cup of hot chocolate, and I get ready for my shift.
Thank God the weather is getting better now it's late July, almost August, so I don't have to wear tights under my black denim skirt.
I grab my white tank top and denim skirt, putting it on with a matching denim jacket as I live in Britain, meaning the weather could be sunny and warm, then piss it down with rain.
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