Sunday roast with my family's something I'd wish on my worst enemy.

So Danny, from Year 6, if you're reading this, I still hate you, you fucking knobhead. Get fucked.

I'm sick of ASDA's food. It'salways the same shite from ASDA – smile potatoes Mum still, somehow, overcooks. Roast chicken, which Michael still, somehow, overheats. Biscuits and saggy vegetables and fish fingers and stale rolls and chewy Yorkshire puddings and lumpy gravy that Mum makes Gavin get the Monday after we eat. And always, always the same nothing conversation.

"Tom, pass the chick'n," Mum says.

I do. But I have a roll to nibble on. Steve's picking me up from the station so I can have real tea with him.

"How's uni?" I ask. I put a piece of roll in my mouth because Michael's staring me down like I've pissed him off again.

"Fine," Gavin says a little too quickly. He doesn't look at me when he says it. His eyes are sunken and he has this expression on his face like he's ready to die.

"Law'll be good f'r you, Gav," Michael says, cutting into some rubber Yorkshire puddings drowning in gravy. "Y'know, Tom, you could go back, too. You could - "

"Nope." Nip it in the bud now. At least he doesn't seem as insistent as last time.

"Hm," Mum says. She takes a good long sip of her wine. "Oh! Y'know, Gavin's been selected for another schol'rship. 'aven't you, luv?" She smiles.

Gavin looks up for a second, smiles at her, then goes back to eating.

Mum takes in a breath and adds, “We're real chuffed for ya, luv.”

Gavin nods his head at her. “Thanks, Mum.”

"So, Tom," she starts, cutting up more chicken, "'ow's your work?"

"Fine." I put another piece of roll in my mouth. It's like chewing glue.

Mum clicks her tongue before taking in another sip of wine.“Mmm...Michael, 'aven't ya heard about new openin's a' work?”

Michael's eyes move between me and Mum before he says, “Yeah...yeah.” He mumbles something that I can't even understand, which ends with, “– he's leavin' now f'r Cardiff.”

"Cardiff?" I ask. I think Adrian's going out that way sometimes this weekend. "Huh."

"Wha' about Cardiff?" asks Mum.

"No, nothin'. One of my mates' headin' out that way for a weekend trip." Another piece of roll in my mouth. And I'm now convinced I'm gonna get sick from it.

Mum and Michael look at each other before asking, “Is, uh...are they...”

Honestly, Adrian's not my type. But, y'know, I'm just glad he's found someone who'll love him. Probably.

I still say, “No.” Because mentioning anyone by name at this point means, to them, that I'm fucking them. Even Steve's gone through it.

When I say that, they have this relieved look on their faces.

Gavin side-eyes me.

I sigh. My phone buzzes. I've got a couple messages. "One sec,"I say, standing up.

Steve's messaged me asking if I need an out yet. Murph's messaged me askingwhat I'm doing right now.

gettingready to hang myself why?

OMGTOMYM
OKAYHOLD ON
WHEREARE YOU??
I'MCALLING THE HELP HOTLINE
TOMMYWHERE ARE YOU???

Ohmy God.

Isnicker to myself.

whatdo you want?

Oh,I was wondering if you wanted to do the London Eye and high tea atthe Savoy tomorrow
Adrian'scoming, but just for the London Eye
Iinvited some of the people from my study abroad group, but they saidthey're spending the day in Camden
Wannacome?

Ineed an out.

Well,right now I'm doing some studywork and revisions for my math class
Maths
Maths?
Whyis it “maths” and not just “math”? Math is a subject andall-encompassing.
ButI digress, sorry for the tangent
Ihaven't eaten yet, but I'm also trying to make my nutella last

FUUUUUUUUUCK.

Oh
Okay!

Imessage Steve I need an out in 2 minutes. I go back.

“Thought you fell in'o the toilet,”says Mum. She finishes off her glass and stands to get more.

“No. People from work askin' if I cancover them.” I'm not really hungry anymore. I put my plate to theside.

“You will, won't you?” sheasks from the kitchen. “Puts ya above the rest. Might getpromoted.”

“Mhm,” I say, nodding. Then the topicgets dropped.

15 minutes later, Steve calls me. In anasally voice that's annoying from the start, he screams about anoverflowing bathtub from the flat above us.

“Gotta go. Thanks for tea, Mum,” Isay, walking over to give her a hug.

“Good seein' ya, Tom,” she says.

I pat Michael on the shoulder, and nod atGavin. “See ya next week.” And walk out. As soon as I do, I hissinto the phone, “I'm gonna maim you when I get back.”

Steve laughs. “What, you didn't haveanything else planned for tonight, didja?”

“No, but I could've.”I remind myself Murph offered something for tomorrow. “Then why'dhe ask if I was free right now?” I whisper.

“Wha?”

“Nothin',” I say. “You're payin'for tea tonight.”

“Why do you think I piss you off likethis?” he asks. “The kebab place, yeah?” But before I can sayanything, he laughs and hangs up.

Murph's messaged me two more times sinceI last wrote back.

Well,if anything changes, let me know!
Andif you're not free tomorrow, let me know when you are!

God,he's like an excited kid. Or a dog. I'm fucking tired just readinghis messages. God, that plonker's exhausting.

I snicker to myself while I wait for agoddamn truck to pass by. “Fuckin' dumbass.”