My stomach drops when I see it. Not in horror – something closer to exasperation sculpts the feeling of my mess-hall-slop breakfast bottoming out. The hangar outside the equipment room rumbles with activity. Engines firing, boots on concrete, the crackle of announcements over the intercoms. I give the cacophony only dry silence in return, because Gal Veres has forgotten his helmet.
Morning all! throws glitter everywhere
My life is over.
I had decided never to emerge from underneath my duvet again, and my plan was working perfectly until my mum came barging into my room -which STILL doesn’t have a lock on it, despite all my requests, because Mum seems to think she has the right to just barrel on in and invade my privacy whenever she likes.
“Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?” she said with a sign, yanking the duvet off me.