“In the 1930s, the country went through a massive depression that saw a third of the population without jobs. The great stock market crash and the heat waves left many without money or a means to make a living through planting crops.” The teacher droned on.

Spencer was half-listening, taking notes but mainly doodling on the margins of her paper. Little hearts with A+S inside them were the most common but there were also stickfigures of Aiden and Dano poking each other.

Any other day she would be paying attention, being the good student that had gained her respect from the teachers and interest from the less studious kids asking for notes but something was nagging at her. Ashley had picked her up that morning, looking pale and tired like she hadn’t slept at all the other night. Of course she was concerned, she asked, and got an answer she had dreaded to hear.

“I’m fine babe. Don’t worry about it.”

The walls were up; mile high barricades reinforced with concrete that she had chiseled away at diligently with her infinite patience and love. They were back up and it hurt her to know that Ashley still had something to hide.

‘I thought we were past all of that.’ She sighed inaudibly. ‘Guess not.’

A thought crossed her mind; one of those Davies-centric thoughts of ditching class with her girlfriend and heading towards the park or the beach, anywhere but the confines of the classroom. Just to get away from the monotony and be free for a moment. It was good in theory but then she remembered she was meeting up with Aiden to go anniversary gift shopping after school.

It was an exciting prospect. The whole idea of an anniversary with someone she truly loved was genuinely sweet and a great opportunity to show her how much she loved her. But that thought of what wasn’t being said still bothered her.

‘I hope it’s nothing too serious.’

Data Management for Ashley: nonexistent. Lost in her own world she sat in the back of the classroom slouched in her chair listening to Bloc Party on her i-pod, drowning out whatever lesson was being taught and that annoying sound of dozens of pencils scratching against paper. ‘Fuck, I hate school.’