A woman with short pink hair opens the kitchen door, noise spilling through from the room across the hall.
“Hey, Trish.” I give her a smile.
She walks into the kitchen and pours herself a glass of water, leaning against the work surface to drink it.
“Hard at work?”
I shrug. “Exams.” Trish rolls her eyes.
“I wish they’d leave you alone. Let you get on with learning instead of this constant testing.” I can’t help smiling. I’ve never found a subject that Trish couldn’t turn into an argument.
“What’s today’s torture?”
She shakes her head. “Don’t get me started, Toph. It’s all lies – don’t forget that!” She puts the empty glass down, her black sleeve riding up to show the tattoo on her wrist – twelve stars in a neat circle, with a broken heart in the centre.
(Making Trouble: freebook.tallerbooks.com)