Bianca was woken by a rattling sound from below. Someone was tidying up the kitchen. Her head pounded with every cupboard door that was slammed, every fork or spoon that clattered in the sink. Great. Just when I've got the mother of all hangovers, someone decides to scrub down the kitchen, she thought resentfully. She looked at her alarm clock. 'Eight thirty?!' Groaning, she rolled over on her front and buried her head under the pillow.
Slowly the sounds from the kitchen receded into the background and the memory of the night before returned to her still foggy mind. It had been her club night at the KSV and she'd spent the whole night in the pub. A pretty wild night for a Wednesday. They had danced, drunk too much beer, and stood on the bar. And had she had a row with Freek? It was difficult to sort out what had actually happened. She reached for the bottle of water next to her bed to take away the bad taste in her mouth.
Suddenly her gaze fell on the pile of clothes in the corner of the room. The sour smell of stale beer penetrated her nose. Her new black dress that had cost an arm and a leg! She slid quickly out of bed and crawled over to the pile of clothes that she had dropped on the floor last night, in a foggy state of mind. The black dress was a pathetic, stinking heap. She had spent a whole month's grant on that dress! And then that stupid prick Freek just throws a glass of beer all over it.
Tears of fury welled up. She shut her eyes and was once more standing in the pub, the beer just thrown over her by Freek (a boy she had gone out with a couple of times) dripping off her. She stared at him in indignation.
'Well it's your own fault,' he snapped at her. 'You threw shit all over me.' He pointed at the wet patch on his trousers.
'That was water. Prick!' She turned around quickly, feeling the tears welling. No way must Freek see her crying. Never. She marched off, but not too fast to hear him hissing 'Stupid bitch' after her.
Bianca cast away the dress with a dramatic gesture. Why on earth hadn't she worn her usual pub outfit? A month of living on baked beans just to make an impression on that idiot Freek.